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Taylor
Iwake up with my cheek stuck to a textbook. And drool. Jesus. Notes are scattered over my bed, along with empty candy bar wrappers and soda cans. Sloan assures me I’ve studied enough. I have this. But self-doubt is really kicking my ass.
Gathering my notes, I shove them into the textbook, then clean up my trash. I walk into the kitchen area and toss the stuff into the garbage.
“You’re up late.”
The voice startles me. I didn’t even notice Christian sitting at the bar, which is not like me. I always notice him.
“Fell asleep studying. What are you still doing up?”
He gets off the stool and comes over to me, tossing his empty beer bottles in the trash. The alcohol on his breath is damn near overwhelming. His eyes are glazed over, indicating he’s high as a kite.
“Don’t sleep much. Not without you.”
I know the feeling. Having his body next to mine, his arms around me, was my safe haven. He kept the nightmares at bay.
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” I say quietly, and he takes a step closer.
Looking down, he trails his fingertip over the exposed area of my stomach. The tank top I’m wearing doesn’t do much to cover me. My nipples poke against the thin fabric.
“Why are you doing this to me?” he questions, slipping his hand beneath my shirt to fondle my tits.
He’s drunk and high. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He sure as hell doesn’t know what he’s doing. If he doesn’t regret this in the morning, I will. I have enough regret for taking advantage of him. I don’t want it to be like this.
But it feels so good. The rough touch from his calloused hands. The softness in his voice. His lips on my neck…
“Christian, let me get you to bed.” He smiles against my skin. “Not like that. Some other time, okay?”
I push his hand away and place my arm around his waist, urging him toward my room. Surprisingly, he complies. Perhaps he still thinks we’re going to fuck when we get there. That day will come. I know it. But when he’s deep inside me, and I’m lost to him, it won’t be in a drunken haze like all the others.
11
Munsey
My morning wood presses against something soft, and it’s not my mattress. I slept good. I thought that concept was lost to me. Taylor shifts, rolling over to face me and snuggle to my chest.
Last night comes crashing back. She turned me down but slept by my side the rest of the night. This girl…no, that’s not fair. She’s experienced more than most women my age. Thiswomanhas a fucking hold on me.
Bishop once accused me of avoiding long-term relationships. I denied it because why the fuck would I admit to something like that. If I had admitted it, he would’ve wanted to know why. Okay, so perhaps he wouldn’t have. It was Bishop, after all. He’s not that much of a talker.
But I have loved before. And I lost her. When you’re young, everything is different. I thought we were getting married. I’d been saving for a ring. We had our future together all mapped out. Then, she decided in our second year of college that she didn’t want to be tied down.
I dropped out of school and moved to Alabama, where my old friend, Dash, was living. My parents practically disowned me. Thought I should’ve stayed and tried to get her back, finish school at least. Dash and I pledged the club together, and the rest, as they say, is history. So, I had a failed relationship, and it impacted all of my other relationships. Shit happens.
When it comes to Taylor, I’m not afraid our relationship wouldn’t work. I’m fucking afraid it will. How the hell am I supposed to cope if something happens to her? If I can’t save her? Good thing I won’t have to find out.
I ease out of the bed, careful not to wake her. She’s so damn beautiful. Blonde hair, blue eyes. The tattoos give her an edge, although she doesn’t need one. You can look at her and tell she’s a damn fighter…a survivor. And that’s the most attractive thing about her.
Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I damn near wince. My scars are on the outside. Hers are on the inside. Either way, we’re both fucked up.
Turning back, I can’t resist the urge to lean down and kiss her cheek. Part of me wants to stay, explore every inch of her body. Wash away any horrible memory she may have of what sex is like because I know I can make her forget. She makes me forget all the horrible shit.
But I walk out, closing the door behind me while she still sleeps. I won’t risk losing her. Staying away is what keeps her safe. Even if staying away is damn near impossible to do.
12
Taylor
