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Eric’s gaze meets mine, his eyes holding a depth of understanding that resonates with my own pain. “Thank you for trusting me enough to share this with me.”
I shrug, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “It’s funny, you know? I never thought I’d be sitting here, talking about all this with someone I’ve only known for a short while.”
“I’m glad you called me,” he says as he returns my phone. “I’m so sorry you have to deal with this.”
I nod, a small sigh escaping my lips. “Thank you for understanding.”
“How about we take our minds off this for a while? Want to watch something?”
I welcome the suggestion, a small smile returning to my lips. “That sounds nice.”
Eric grabs the remote and finds a movie on a streaming service. As the movie’s colorful scenes play out on the screen, its lightheartedness offers a temporary escape from the heaviness that’s been lingering in the room.
As the movie progresses, I steal glances at Eric, my heart fluttering with a mix of emotions. He seems engrossed in the movie, his features illuminated by the soft glow of the screen. Every now and then, our eyes briefly meet, creating a connection that words can’t quite capture.
About halfway through the movie, I feel Eric’s gaze on me, a subtle but undeniable warmth that makes my cheeks flush. I look at him and as our eyes lock, the world around us seems to fade away. The movie continues playing in the background, but our attention is solely on each other.
In our shared moment of unspoken understanding, Eric reaches out and gently places a hand on mine, his touch reassuring and comforting. Without breaking eye contact, I begin leaning, my heart racing as if it’s caught in a high-speed chase.
I glance downward, but he delicately raises my chin, his touch a tender caress that quickens my heartbeat. His thumb lightly grazes my lips, sending shivers down my spine. He gazes into my eyes, as if contemplating a kiss. My gaze drifts to his lips, then returns to his, and I lean in. He wraps me in his arms, drawing me closer for a kiss. His lips are warm and soft. He gently guides me backward onto the couch. A rush of warmth courses through my body as he intensifies the kiss.
Breaking away, he leans toward my neck, planting soft kisses beneath and around my earlobe, eliciting a moan from me. His hands, both rough and gentle, slip beneath my shirt, tracing circles on my abdomen. As his hand reaches higher, I gradually sit up, pulling my shirt down.
“Eric, I can’t.”
He looks up at me and sits back, his eyes soft but brows narrowed with concern. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m sorry. I’m just not ready.”
“Not ready for what?” he asks.
“You know… sex.”
He nods, taking my hands and holding them. “It’s okay, let’s continue the movie.”
As time passes, the movie loses its hold on us. Instead, Eric and I find comfort in each other’s company. The couch, once just a piece of furniture, becomes a haven of relaxation.
His hold on me and his steady breathing both speak of understanding. Resting against him, our fingers intertwined. I feel a rare calmness, a kind of peace I haven’t felt in ages.
The day’s troubles and my painful history seem to fade away as I close my eyes, seeking rest in his arms. Our breaths match, creating a soothing rhythm.
In the quiet embrace of slumber, I sense healing. His touch on my back, his warmth—everything feels secure, like a shield against the world. I feel his lips press against my forehead.
As the night deepens, I surrender to sleep, nestling beside Eric on the couch.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
The morning lighttrickles into my bedroom, painting the room in soft hues of gold. Blinking sleep from my eyes, I rub them, trying to shake off the last remnants of my dreams. As my surroundings slowly come into focus, I realize I’m in my bed, the sheets tousled around me. This isn’t where I had fallen asleep last night. Did Eric carry me to my bed?
Memories of the previous evening wash over me like a wave; the laughter shared, the way his fingers brushed against mine, and that kiss on my forehead.
With a yawn, I slip my feet into my slippers and pad into the kitchen. The scent of pancakes and fresh coffee wafts through the air, a delicious wake-up call that can’t be ignored. But the scent wasn’t the only thing that greeted me.
Eric’s standing in my kitchen with his back to me… and he’s shirtless. His attention is focused solely on arranging food on a plate. I lean against the doorway, my heart fluttering as I take in the sight.
“Morning,” he says, turning to me with a grin. “I hope my breakfast is almost as good as your company.”
I smile back. “You’re still here?”
