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What it leaves behind, I can’t even explain. But it’s suddenly like I’m the one staring into his soul.
Staring at someone who’s just like me.
“That’s okay, baby girl,” he says with a mixture of both tenderness and sadness as he reaches out his hand and cups my cheek.
His palm is warm and a little rough, but I find something about that touch of roughness soothing.
“I’m already shit,” he says as he leans in so close his breath hits my face. “I’ve been shit for a long time.”
It’s my turn to be shocked as I look up at him. Is he messing with me? How could he possibly believe that? Especially after what he did for me today?
Hating the expression on his face, I tell him honestly as his thumb strokes against my cheek, “You’re not shit to me.”
His thumb suddenly stops, and my heart skips a beat, afraid he’s going to pull away or dismiss me.
Before he can disagree, I blurt out, “In fact, I think you’re pretty fucking great.”
An unwanted blush blooms on my cheeks and heat creeps down my neck. I’m not the least bit eloquent, but I couldn’t live with myself if he walked away thinking he’s lesser than he is in my eyes.
Still trapped in his penetrating gaze, I watch a transformation take over his face. What little bit of tenderness that was there disappears, replaced something fierce and hard.
Something that both terrifies me and takes my breath away.
Suddenly he makes this deep, rumbling sound in the base of his throat and his fingers curl possessively around my cheek.
Before I can prepare myself or pull away, he’s pushing into me and kissing me.
The first press of his lips against my lips is downright electrifying, and I swear my entire body lights up with a sizzling, crackling heat.
As if he’s just as surprised, he stiffens up for a moment. Then he’s groaning and pushing me up against the wall.
The first press of his lips was hard and possessive, as if it was meant to claim me, but the next pull of his mouth is done like he’s a man that’s been starving.
Starving for me.
There are so many reasons I shouldn’t be doing this, so many reasons to
push him away, but I find myself grabbing at him. Grabbing at him like I’m afraid he’s going to suddenly disappear like a phantom from a dream.
His kiss is better than any drug… better than any self-inflicted pain.
With his hard body pressed up against mine, fitting like it was always meant to be right here, the rest of the world is falling away.
There’s only him and the way he makes me feel.
And like this he makes me feel… free.
Even with his body acting like a cage, trapping me against the wall, my soul is soaring.
Hand sliding from my cheek to the back of my head, his fingers thread through my hair. Then he tugs, arching my head back so he can further devour me.
His lips push and pull, urging me to open for him. Urging me to give the last bit of myself to him for safekeeping.
I resist at first, afraid of where it will lead.
As if he can sense my conflict, his kiss suddenly softens, becoming tender and loving. With his mouth, he shows me I can trust him.
Trust him to keep me safe.
