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Once I throw on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, I sit on the side of the bed. As I wrap my arm in gauze, I can’t help but wonder if the kiss was as good for her as it was for me. I can’t imagine anything feeling better than her lips pressed against mine. But I know the only reason she gave her first kiss to me was because she feels she can trust me for some reason. I was her only option. It’s stupid and selfish of me to think it was anything more than that. Even so, I’ll never forget it for the rest of my miserable life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
RELLA
I STAND IN THE SHOWER WITH the water hitting my shoulders, my mind still reeling over the kiss Aziah and I just shared. I don’t know why I asked if I could kiss him. I just felt this sudden urge to know what it felt like. To know what it felt like to kiss him. And wow, it was so much more than I ever thought possible.
It’s weird. Until recently, I’ve never looked at Aziah as anything other than my brother’s best friend. Yes, he was always cute as a boy, and now as a man he’s extremely good-looking in a dark and mysterious way, but I’ve never felt any type of desire toward him. I didn’t even think I was capable of such a feeling. I thought everything that happened to me would have killed that emotion.
But that’s exactly what I felt when we were kissing. Desire. It scared me, but even more so, it thrilled me. It made me feel more alive than I ever remember feeling. What made it even better was that it was with Aziah. His mind may still be filled with doubt, regret, and shame over our dirty childhood, and I’m sure he’s probably beating himself up right now over our kiss, but if I could have picked anyone to bring that emotion out in me, it would be him. He’s the one I’ve always felt the closest with. He’s the one I’ve bonded the most with. He makes me feel warm and safe and protected.
A part of me wishes he hadn’t run from the shower so quickly. I’ll admit, it hurt. What if he was repulsed by the kiss? I don’t want to think about him hating it while I enjoyed it so much.
I close my eyes and bring the vision of his body back to my mind. I’ve seen a lot of naked men in my life, mostly when I was a kid. They always turned my stomach and made me want to throw up. To me, a naked male body represents pain and fear and revulsion. But seeing Aziah, all the hard muscles in his chest and arms, the ink covering most of his beautiful skin, the way everything ripples when he moves, was breathtaking. His inner beauty matches his outer beauty.
If only he could see the same thing I saw.
My mind moves to the thing I’m most interested in. You would think a penis would freak me out, especially an aroused one, but oddly, Aziah’s didn’t. I’m no fool to think I’m suddenly over what happened to me and could do anything sexual, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious. I tried my best to keep my eyes off his erection, but they kept drifting back to it. Strangely, I found I wanted to reach out and touch it. It was hard, but I wanted to see if it was as silky as it looked too. There was no way I was going to, though. I know I’m not ready for something like that.
I turn the dial on the shower and step out, grabbing a towel from the rack on the wall. After I dry off, I slip on the sweatpants and shirt Aziah left behind. They’re huge on me, and I have to roll the waistband of the sweats several times so they stay on my hips.
I’m nervous as I leave the bathroom, unsure how he’s going to act after our kiss. I find him sitting on the couch in the living room. He’s on the edge of the cushion, bent over with his legs spread, elbows on his knees, and head in his hands. I wonder what’s going through his mind.
I don’t know what to do or say, so I just stand there awkwardly, playing with the hem of my shirt. He doesn’t look at me.
I glance around the room, and an ache forms in my chest. There’s absolutely nothing that makes this house a home. It’s sterile, cold, and barren. He deserves so much more than this, probably more than anyone else.
Unable to stand the silence any longer, I step farther into the room.
“Did you take care of your wounds?” I can’t tell because of the long sleeves he’s wearing.
He lifts his head, but he only stares across the room. “Yes.”
I walk until I’m standing next to him.
My throat tightens as I say the next words. “I’m sorry for what happened in the shower.”
His head snaps up and he finally looks at me. He’s scowling, but at least I can see his eyes.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he grunts.
“I made you uncomfortable. That’s the last thing I wanted to do.”
He scrubs his hands across his face before getting up from the couch and turning to me.
“It wasn’t what you did, it was how it made me feel. I didn’t like it.”
“Oh.” I drop my head and stare at my feet, not wanting him to see the hurt in my eyes.
“Shit.” I wince. “That’s not what I meant, Rella.” I peek up at him through my lashes. “I enjoyed the kiss, way more than I should have. The problem is, I shouldn’t have enjoyed it.”
I tilt my head to the side and purse my lips, regarding him. “I’m glad you liked it,” I state quietly.
His brows pucker, a frown pulling down his lips. “Don’t be stupid, Rella.”
Annoyance straightens my spine, and I glare at him. “Why does that make me stupid? Do you know how it would make me feel if I liked it and you didn’t?”
“I have no right—”
