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"I think you are."
"I'm really not. But I… I don't want to talk anymore."
"Okay." He releases my hand.
I grab his wrist. "No. I want to not talk. If that's okay with you. I know everything with your sister must be complicated and I want to listen, I do. But right now, I can't. And I respect it if you need space or if you need an ear, I just—"
"Kiss me."
I don't hesitate. I bring my lips to his. I kiss him hard and fast.
My need pours into him.
His need pours into me.
It's different than our other kisses. Charged with the desire to come closer, let our walls down, connect mentally and emotionally as we connect physically.
It's different than it was with Zack too. I didn't love Zack. I didn't trust Zack. I didn't want to show Zack the places I hurt.
It wasn't his fault (not entirely). I never gave him a chance.
But this—
I'm trying.
Patrick wraps his arms around me. He guides me to the stairs.
We struggle up them.
I pull my tank top over my head.
He does away with his t-shirt.
Then my bra.
He pulls me onto the bed and wraps his arms around me. He explores my body with his hands.
He's not just finding the places that make me purr.
He's exploring my heart and soul too.
The same way I surrender to my physical needs, I surrender to these.
I close my eyes and I soak in the sensation of his hands on my skin, his lips on my neck, his breath in my ear.
The slow, tender movements.
The softness.
The intimacy.
We lie together, kissing and touching, for a long, long time. Then he brings his lips to my chin and kisses a line down my body.
All the way to my belly button, then just below it.
He undoes the button of my jeans and rolls them all the way to my feet. Then the cotton panties.
The feel of his lips against my thigh.
