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It hurt my heart to think that he didn’t have any.
I turned to face him.
He was watching me, his head tilted just slightly to the side. “It’s not exactly exciting, is it?” he joked walking around the edge of his room, running his hand along the simply decorated dresser, his fingers dancing past the handful of pictures.
I licked my lips, my body turning with him as he moved past. “Do you have any pictures of before you joined the club?” I asked trying to make it sound casual, but knowing it was going to come off as a little nosey.
He huffed out a breath and took a seat at the edge of his bed. “No… well… not ones I want to put on display. Not yet.” His answer was relatively cryptic and sharp enough to let me know not to ask anything more. I could tell, at least, that it was a sore point. I’d never tell him, but it almost made me feel a little better to know I wasn’t the only one who felt pain occasionally when I spoke about my family. Especially the past few days, I couldn’t think about my mom without wanting to run home and curl up in her bed like I used to when I was little, and know it was one place I felt like nothing could ever hurt me. It was hard to be mad at the person who you always ran to when you were feeling upset or scared.
“Meyah,” Ham whispered making my body jerk in fright and causing tears that I didn’t realize I’d been shedding to drip down onto my cheeks.
I laughed, feeling completely stupid. “Sorry, it’s just been an emotional few days.”
“You wanna talk about it?” he inquired patting the bed beside him.
I cleared my throat and shook my head. No. I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to think about it. I just wanted for one moment be free from it. “No, I really don’t,” I told him honestly, standing a little straighter and trying to convince myself I was braver than I thought I was. “All I’ve wanted to do for the past two days is either cry, shoot something, or run. I want to pretend for a moment like my mom didn’t lie to me for eighteen years. Or like I haven’t missed out on that amount of time having a dad. I want to pretend like it didn’t take me eighteen years to figure out how to stand up for myself, and that I could have saved myself a lot of pain.”
Ham pushed off the bed and stepped toward me. One of his arms came around me, his other hand gently cupped the side of my face, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. “Listen to me, it’s gonna be fine. Things will get better, and all this will seem so insignificant.”
I leaned into his palm and pressed forward on my tiptoes, delighting in the way his grip tightened around my waist, our bodies pressing together, neither of us completely sure of where this was going.
“How do you know?” I asked when his lips pressed against my cheek. His unshaven face tickled and sent a shiver down my spine.
“Because this is only one moment in your life,” he murmured, the feel of his lips moving against the skin made me smile. “In ten years, it will be the important moments you’ll remember. First kisses. First heartbreak. But you won’t even blink at those times you sat around second guessing yourself.”
I tilted my head up, the heat in his eyes surprising me as his hands explored my body. It started out as a soothing touch, something to calm me, but it was quickly transforming into something else. I swallowed the nervous lump in my throat. “How’d you get so smart?”
He laughed, it was deep and soft and sexy as all hell. It warmed me burning through my body to my clit and lighting it on fire.
I didn’t even give him time to answer the question. “You’re right. I’m sick of the second guessing. I’m sick of wondering what I should have done differently.” I knew what I wanted, I wanted to feel something else. I wanted to feel the euphoria that ran through me when his lips touched mine or the way my body trembled excitedly when he touched me. “I want to make this into a moment, one of those important ones that I’ll remember,” I insisted.
My lips brushed against his, but I wouldn’t make the first move, I needed to know he wanted this as much as I did, and all I could do was hope in the back of my mind I wasn’t reading the signals wrong.
“Meyah,” he murmured. It was a warning. I could hear it in his voice, but he still didn’t move.
I grabbed hold of his belt, tugging it down just slightly creating a space between his T-shirt and his jeans, showing off that trail of dark hair which disappeared into his jeans. We were both breathing heavily, and I couldn’t help but wiggle my hips feeling wetness begin to gather between my legs.
“You make one more move close to my cock, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to leave anytime soon. I’m gonna be locking the door and exploring every damn inch of this fucking perfect body.” His hands moved down over my shoulders and around the curve of my breasts teasing and taunting me as they brushed across the front of my shirt and my hardened nipples.
I stalled.
He was offering me an out.
I stop right here. He walks away, and this is done.
I took a deep breath and swallowed the nervous lump in my throat. His eyes looked deep into mine. I could tell he was struggling to control himself. Yet, he was still offering to walk out the door he came through if that was what I wanted.
For the first time in the past few days, I felt excited. I felt something other than sadness and disappointment or anger.
My hand moved almost on its own, my brain and heart in agreeance that this was what I wanted. This was it, and there was no way in hell I was giving this up when I’d spent so many nights lying in my bed wondering whether he might someday appear at my window.
I wanted this.
More than I could ever remember wanting anything else.
