Beautiful Boy(37)

All of me.

It was in the way her rigid body convulsed, the short, hot bursts of air  against my skin. I didn't need to hear her muffled cries, her throaty  gasps, or see the deep creases in her forehead to know she'd found her  pleasure. Just feeling it was enough to get me off.

But it didn't.

It didn't because even through my hazy mind and the fog of sex, I  realized something. For a week since the night in my home office when  I'd taken her against my desk, I'd stroked myself to the memory of her  getting off while I fucked her. I'd replayed the way her muscles  relaxed, the way her head fell back on my shoulder, and the airy breaths  she took as she clamped around my thrusting dick. Nothing about this  orgasm was even close to the other, and it left me with one nagging and  deflating thought: she'd faked one of them.         

     



 

And that realization hurt.

It hurt worse than being blown up.

Worse than dying.

Rejection held a far worse pain.

My movements slowed, letting her ride out her pleasure, and then I  stilled completely. Her eyelids finally lifted. She stared lazily at me,  a contented grin forming on her dry lips.

I wanted to say something, but her expression left me inept to do so.  Words evaded me, thoughts suffocated me, and fear choked me. Fear caused  by her lack of response to my confession of love. Confused and twisted  thoughts over why she would fake it with me. I couldn't handle it all,  so I kissed her forehead and dropped my face to hide it in the crook of  her neck.

Her fingertips lightly stroked my lower back, yet it did nothing to calm  the storm inside me. Panic rang in my ears and drowned out her  whispered words, but I played them back to myself until I heard them.

"Oh my God, that was incredible."

I wanted to believe her, to believe what she said, but I couldn't. All I  could think about was the difference between this time and the last.

And it made me question everything.

My eyes remained closed as I pulled out and took a small step back.  Everything suddenly became cold … the air, my skin, the center of my  chest.

"Are you okay?"

I had to turn around. I didn't want her to see me like this.

Broken.

Shredded.

Destroyed by her.

I knew it wasn't her fault, but I couldn't stop my mind from blaming  her. I couldn't stop tormenting myself with the facts: she didn't love  me; she'd faked it.

Her voice dropped to a whisper when she said, "Did you … " The sentence  hung in the air and I slowly turned back to her. Her gaze fell down my  body to my empty rubber. "Why didn't you … ?"

"I guess I lost the moment." I shook my head and tried to back away  more, but this time, she slid off the table and took the step with me.

"Was it me? Did I do something wrong?" she asked with a quivering voice,  full of the trepidation I could plainly see in her eyes.

I guess rejection hurt us both.

I cradled her face between my hands and lowered my forehead to hers. I  needed to tell her something to ease her worry, but I wasn't sure what  to say. Admitting it'd been because of her orgasm would've been  devastating to her, and I couldn't do that.

So I said the only thing I could-the partial truth. "No. I'm just … I'm not used to that."

"To what?" Her wide eyes met mine. She leaned away from me and read my expression like an open book.

I hated it.

I loved it.

I shook my head, hoping my next words formed correctly and made sense.  "Being face to face with someone …  I can't … " A growl surfaced, proving  how hard it was for me to explain without scaring her off.

"Talk to me." She wouldn't let it go, and my thoughts were too  disorganized to come up with anything that would make sense. "Don't shut  me out, Nolan."

The way she whispered my name did me in. It invaded me, consumed me, and  left me with an ache deep inside my chest, reminiscent of an exploding  bomb.

"I haven't been able to … be intimate like this in a very long time. The only way I can is if I'm not facing the person."

"Why?" I knew that'd be her question, and I wished I had a normal answer  for her, but I didn't. And the way she asked, the scratchiness of her  voice, was enough to force me to answer her question.

I stared at her and let the words come out. "It's hard to stop my mind  from wandering when I'm being touched. The scar tissue prevents me from  feeling anything. I mean … I can feel pressure, and a sensation of  something touching me there, but it's like I have ten layers of clothes  on. Plus, I can't stand the thought of being watched-scrutinized. My  leg. My scars."

Her eyes closed and her long exhale covered my skin. Then she dropped  her chin and whispered, "I really wish you'd stop using your injuries as  an excuse. You act like you're incapable of doing things, when you're  more than capable of doing anything you want."

"It's not that … I just don't want anyone to see them while we're together. I don't want you to see them."

She tilted her head, studying me. "So facing me, with me touching you … kept you from getting off? You didn't like it?"

How did I tell her I loved it? That even as strange as it was for me, I  loved every second of being inside her, in front of her, her hands on  me? How did I say that sort of thing without contradicting everything  I'd just put out there? I couldn't. The only thing I could do was shake  my head and drop my gaze to the floor.         

     



 

"What about a bed? Would that be easier?"

I shook my head harder, more adamantly. "No. It's not practical with a  metal rod for a leg-not to mention, uncomfortable. And taking it off  isn't a viable option. It's too … personal, and I can't do it."

Novah took my hands and drew me one step closer, into the small space  between us. Her eyes never left mine as she began to stroke my softening  erection, bringing it back to life. And just when my eyes started to  close, she turned around and leaned onto the table, offering herself to  me.

"No, Novah. Don't do this."

Her spine straightened and she turned her head to peer at me over her  shoulder. Her brow was tight and heavily creased. "If this is the only  way you're comfortable being with me, then I'm okay with it."

I grabbed her hips, dug my fingers into her soft skin, and pulled her to  my chest. Having her spine so close to my heart made it easier to say  the things I needed to say.

"I can't do that to you, Novah. I know what you did the last time we were like this. And I can't do that to you again."

Her posture stiffened.

"I know you didn't … enjoy it. I could tell by the way you reacted  tonight. But what I don't know is why. Why did you make me believe you  got off?" My whispered question was muffled by her hair just before I  pressed a kiss to the back of her head. I needed her to know I wasn't  mad, and I didn't hold it against her.

Her quiet voice floated through the air as she said, "It wasn't what I expected."

I wanted to turn her around, to see her vivid eyes when she spoke to me,  but I couldn't. Fear rooted me in place, and it seemed to do the same  to her, as well.

Her shoulders slumped slightly and her head fell forward, away from me.  "It was our first time together, Nolan. The very first time I fully gave  myself to you. The time before, when I'd given you a piece of me, ended  disastrously. So I automatically had some apprehension going into it.  But then …  I don't know."

She sniffled quickly before continuing, not giving me the chance to interrupt.

"Instead of acting like a man who'd just spilled his heart to someone,  you acted like a boy who couldn't wait to get off. Instead of treating  me like someone you cared about, you made me feel like nothing more than  a warm hole to stick it in. It wasn't because what you were doing  wasn't good enough … I just couldn't get out of my own head long enough to  enjoy it."

Her low, sad words penetrated my soul and stole my breath. The weight of  it all made my forehead drop to her nape, and I had to fight to hold  back the tears of pain threatening to break free.

"That's how I made you feel?" My stomach curdled over her reason, which was worse than what I'd originally thought.

She finally turned around to face me, and then she slid her hands up my  arms to my shoulders. She waited until my gaze met hers before speaking  so soft, yet so serious, it made my heart hurt.

"I was against a desk, Nolan. Not in a bed. You weren't making love to  me, you were fucking me-from behind no less. I couldn't see you … I  couldn't touch you. It was like I could've been anyone to you. I don't  want to be just anyone to you. You're not just anyone to me; you're  everything." Tears lined her lower lashes. They didn't fall over the  rims; they simply gathered there and held steady.

My body grew cold and hot at the same time, like I'd been thrown into a  pool of ice water. I had no idea she'd felt that way, and my stomach  soured even more at the thought of her keeping this to herself all week.