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His hand fisted my hair, and he deepened the angle, giving me more of his cock. He breathed into my mouth and gave me slow and deep thrusts. “I promise.”
2
Bones
I could tell she didn’t remember much from the night before.
She woke up at noon, threw up in the bathroom, had a glass of water, and then swallowed a few painkillers to thwart her migraine. She got back into bed, crawling like she could barely stand. She lay on the sheets, her eyes closed.
I went into the kitchen and made lunch. I made her a sandwich with chips and a few cookies. She didn’t have a kitchen table, so I set everything on the coffee table. I walked back into the bedroom and found her exactly as I left her. “Baby.”
“Hmm?” She didn’t open her eyes.
“You should eat. I made lunch.”
“Lunch?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
“What time is it, then?”
“Almost one.”
She sighed and dragged her hands down her face. “I feel like shit.”
“You should.” I wouldn’t sweep her behavior under the rug like it was acceptable. She was stupid and reckless, and if I hadn’t promised I wouldn’t tie her up, she would be chained to the bed on her stomach so I could slap her ass with a belt. “Now, get up.”
She finally sat up, still naked because that she hadn’t put any clothes on.
I grabbed one of my shirts and helped her get it on. Then I grabbed a fresh pair of panties from the drawer and pulled them up her long legs.
Her face was pale and she looked ill, but she still looked like the beautiful woman who stole my fascination. Once she was covered in my shirt, she was even more beautiful. She ran her fingers through her hair and pulled it out of her face. Then she blinked a few times as she woke up.
I watched her, making sure she didn’t fall over. “Come on.”
She finally got out of bed and walked into the living room. She sat down on the floor in front of the food and started to eat slowly, her eyes squinting because the afternoon light strained her eyes and her migraine.
I shut the curtains.
She instantly looked better.
I sat on the other couch and watched her, hating myself for what was happening. I’d stormed out of the apartment because she’d insulted me in a brutal way, but I walked back in because I didn’t want to leave her.
I also didn’t want to leave her when she was that drunk.
If someone else came into the apartment, she wouldn’t be able to defend herself.
Leaving her unprotected made me sick to my stomach, so I walked back inside.
And I knew she wanted me to come back, even though she’d asked me to leave. I was hard before I made it through the door. She lay there, wishing I was between her legs and on top of her. She acted like she didn’t need me, but there was no place in the world safer than by my side—or underneath me.
I found her exactly as I’d predicted, yanking me back into the bed.
And making me promise never to leave again.
She never wanted me to leave.
I didn’t want to leave either.
But I didn’t know what kind of promise I’d made—I just knew I wanted to keep it.
Now I stared at her from the other couch, taking care of her because she was weak like a newborn deer that couldn’t walk. I’d never cared for another person in all my life, but now I was cooking for her and making sure she didn’t throw up and choke on her own vomit. I was making sure she had enough fluids and she was making it to the bathroom okay.
How did I get here?
She only ate half of her food, but that was plenty. At least she had something in her stomach. She started to lighten up a bit, the migraine finally disappearing and the color coming into her cheeks.
I kept staring at her.
She finally met my look.
Minutes passed. The staring continued.
I wondered how much she remembered. I wondered if she remembered the desperate way she pulled me back to bed and begged me to stay. I wondered if she remembered how good the sex was, how we kept going for an hour straight even though she was exhausted. I wondered if she remembered the promise she asked me to make.
She ran her fingers through her hair and sighed.
The second she was coherent, I had a few things to say. But I waited until the right moment.
“I’m sorry.” Her apology rang through the air and filled the silence. It lowered the tension between us, addressed the obvious issue that needed to be dealt with. “I just… It was stupid.”
“It was really fucking stupid.”
“Does it sound like I’m disagreeing?”
“But I don’t think you understand just how fucking stupid you were. Walking down the street in nothing but a dress and heels when it’s thirtysomething degrees outside—”
