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“You don’t need to be. My turn. Biggest fear?”
“Dying alone.”
“Oh.” Her face fell. I didn’t expect her to take it so seriously. “Your parents adore you, Trask.” She rubbed my hand like my dog just died or something.
“What a confusing little drunk you are.” I kissed her again and I couldn’t stop. I wanted to taste the red wine on her lips, and make an imprint of her body on my couch. But I forced myself to go slow, to be gentle. I tried in vain to adjust the aching cock stuck in my jeans.
“Eliza, who hit you?”
“That’s cheating.”
“All out of passes, my love.” Oh shit, maybe I was the drunker one. She froze at the forbidden “L-word” but before I could backpedal she answered.
“My grandpa.”
“Eliza, you could—”
“No disclaimers,” she took joy in telling me. As if a handprint across her face was just another Tuesday.
“I think I’m done with this game,” I said, trying to hide my anger. I buried my face in her neck, inhaling her signature scent. My cock throbbed at the idea of waking up in tangled sheets, smelling of her. I settled between her legs, resting my head on her chest as she played with my hair.
“Are you mad at me?” she whispered.
I lifted myself from her body to face her. “No, why would you think that?”
“I could hear it in your voice.” She swallowed hard, like there was more she wanted to say but the words got stuck.
I sat up and pulled her against me, hugging her close. “I am fucking furious.” She tensed. “But not at you. Just hate the people who are supposed to protect you.”
“It happens to a lot of people—”
“Eliza—”
“I’m not justifying it,” she said, fisting my shirt in her hands. “I just, I don’t know, it doesn’t feel that out of place. It’s like getting a cold. It happens to a lot of people, out of nowhere. You deal with it and then you feel better with time.”
“That’s a shit metaphor.”
She chuckled. “Yeah. It is.”
I held her for a long while, taking my time running my fingers through her hair once I got it free from that blasted elastic. She didn’t protest.
“Trask.” she softly asked. I’d never get tired of hearing my name on her lips. It was always so soft and breathless.
“Hmmm?”
“Why is your house spinning?”
“On that note…” I stood and pulled her up with me. “Let’s get you to bed.” I led her into my room and pointed to the ensuite bathroom. “I have extra toothbrushes under the sink. And some other toiletries if you want.”
She nodded and gave me a sleepy smile. I wasn’t sure if she was going to shower or not but I hoped she wouldn’t. Something told me the combination of alcohol pumping through her veins, exhaustion, and hot steam would be the perfect mix for her to pass out. I heard the water from the sink and only a few moments later she emerged.
“I didn’t bring anything—”
I kissed her words away. “I know, I grabbed some of my clothes for you.” I led her to the end of my bed and she sat. I gave her a shirt and a pair of sweats. She quickly removed her top and bra and slipped my shirt on. It was quick, and I nearly keeled over. She was killing me slowly. Her face flamed like she had just realized what she’d done. She wouldn’t look at me, instead she went to work on untying her boots, fumbling with the laces, hands shaking.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, kneeling in front of her.
“You scare me.” She said it with a smile and it confused me all the more.
