His fingers, firm on my chin, pull me toward him as he swallows every moan, before he finds his own release. His growls vibrate through me, and my skin prickles with the delicious scent of his skin, of his body, of every single thing about him. I will never get enough. I honestly believe there won’t be a single moment in my lifetime, where I walk this earth, that I don’t love Travis Phoenix.
There’s a loud bang down the hall, someone slamming a door. We freeze, tangled, his hands digging into my hips, my heart lurching in my chest. But no one comes in, and after a beat, he starts to laugh. A real one, and I can’t help laughing, too, our bodies shaking together under the blanket because fuck all of this, really, if you can’t laugh about it.
After, we sit by the window, staring outside, me on his lap, his arms curled around me. “Tell me everything,” he says, tracing patterns over my thighs. “What has your life been likein the last two years? I want to know all of it. Even the shit you don’t want to tell me.”
“Well, after Gran died, Mom didn’t really want to stay in the house, so she got herself a new place and helped me out, too. Reagan and I got the shittiest little apartment in the city, but we love it. I purchased it, so I have to figure out what to do with it now. Then, I got a job at a law firm, nothing crazy, but it was good, you know? Not that the city life is truly for me, I mean, I haven’t missed it at all.”
“Sounds like you,” he murmurs. His hand is tracing lazy circles on my knee.
“It wasn’t always great, though. After...you, I don’t know. Something never just felt quite right.”
He squeezes my hand. “You date anyone?” he says, his voice hesitant.
I snort. “Reagan kept trying to set me up with all the desperados from her office. I tried. Didn’t really take. There was one guy, but he just, well....”
“Wasn’t me,” Travis says, and there’s a smug little curl to his mouth.
I elbow him, but it’s gentle. “Basically, yeah. What about you?”
He looks out the window, and just stares. He stays quiet so long I start to wonder if maybe I don’t want to know after all.
“I tried to go there,” he says finally. “But it never went any further than one-night stands, even if she was nice, I just couldn’t let myself open up to anyone. I was a fucking shell of myself.”
I swallow, and stare out the window now, too.
There would have been a lot of girls.
I know Travis, and it is one way he copes.
It hurts, I can’t deny it. Imagining him with all those beautiful women, just fucking a different one each night.
He notices my expression, and takes my chin, turning my face towards his. “There was only ever you, Mischief. There will only ever be you. No one else could ever compare.”
My heart melts a little.
There’s a knock, the lightest tap on the door. A nurse steps in—maybe twenty, pretty in a “my skin rejects all sunlight” sort of way—grins at us. “Hey, sorry to interrupt, but it’s time for group therapy, Travis.”
Travis’s arms tighten around me. “Yuck, time to go talk about feelings.”
I laugh, climbing off his lap. “Don’t talk about me too much.”
He laughs.
The nurse smiles, blushing every single time her eyes swing in his direction. I’m quite certain he’s popular in here.
“Go be an inspiration,” I tell him, and he tips his head back like he’s considering it.
“Are you coming tomorrow?”
“Every day,” I say. “Even if you get sick of me.”
He presses a kiss to my lips. “There isn’t a world where I would ever get sick of you.”
I leave with a smile on my face.
Maybe the next few weeks won’t fix everything. But for the first time in a long time, it feels like we have a place to start.
