Hopeless(111)

The way he’s holding me against him protectively now, trailing kisses along my lips and jaw—it’s almost as if he’s a different Holder than the one I had just thirty seconds ago, yet still wholly passionate. One minute he’s frantic and heated…the next minute he’s gentle and coaxing. I’m beginning to appreciate and love the unexpectedness in him.

I can feel him wanting me to take control now, but I’m nervous. I’m not sure that I even know how. He senses my unease and he moves his hands to my waist, slowly guiding me, barely moving me on top of him. He’s watching me earnestly, making sure I’m still here with him.

I am. I’m so completely here with him right now I can think of nothing else.

He brings one of his hands to my face, still guiding me with his other hand on my waist. “You know how I feel about you, baby,” he says. “You know how much I love you. You know I would do whatever I could to take away your pain, right?”

I nod, because I do know. And looking into his eyes right now, seeing the raw honesty in them, I know he’s felt this way about me long before this moment.

“I need that from you so fucking bad right now, Sky. I need to know you love me like that.”

Everything about him, from his voice to the look on his face, becomes tortured. I would do whatever it took to take that away from him. I lace our fingers together and cover both of our hearts with our hands, working up the courage to show him how incredibly much I love him. I stare him straight in the eyes as I lift up slightly, then slowly lower myself back down on top of him.

He groans heavily, then closes his eyes and leans his head back, letting it fall against the mattress behind him.

“Open your eyes,” I whisper. “I want you to watch me.”

He raises his head, looking at me through hooded eyes. I continue to slowly take control, wanting nothing more than for him to hear and feel and see just how much he means to me. Being in control is a completely different sensation, but it’s a good one. The way he’s watching me makes me feel needed like no one’s ever been able to make me feel. In a way, he makes me feel necessary. Like my existence alone is necessary for his survival.

“Don’t look away again,” I say, easing myself up. When I lower myself back onto him, his head sways slightly from the intensity of the sensation and a moan escapes my throat, but he keeps his tortured eyes locked firmly on mine. I’m no longer in need of his guidance, and my body becomes a rhythmic reflection of his.

“The first time you kissed me?” I say. “That moment when your lips touched mine? You stole a piece of my heart that night.” I continue my rhythm as he watches me fervently. “The first time you told me you lived me because you weren’t ready to tell me you loved me yet?” I press my hand harder against his chest and move myself in closer to him, wanting him to feel every part of me. “Those words stole another piece of my heart.”

He opens his hand that I have pressed over my heart until his palm is flat against my skin. I do the same to him. “The night I found out I was Hope? I told you I wanted to be alone in my room. When I woke up and saw you in my bed I wanted to cry, Holder. I wanted to cry because I needed you there with me so bad. I knew in that moment that I was in love with you. I was in love with the way you loved me. When you wrapped your arms around me and held me, I knew that no matter what happened with my life, you were my home. You stole the biggest piece of my heart that night.”

I lower my mouth to his and kiss him softly. He closes his eyes and begins to ease his head against the bed again. “Keep them open,” I whisper, pulling away from his lips. He opens them, regarding me with an intensity that penetrates straight to my core. “I want you to keep them open…because I need you to watch me give you the very last piece of my heart.”

He releases a vast breath and it’s almost as if I can see the pain literally escaping him. His hands tighten around mine as the look in his eyes instantly changes from an intense hopelessness to a fiery need. He begins moving with me as we hold each other’s gaze. The two of us gradually become one as we silently express with our bodies and our hands and our eyes what our words are unable to convey.

We remain in a connected cadence until the very last moment when his eyes grow heavy. He drops his head back, consumed by the shudders that are taking over his release. When his heart rate begins to calm against my palm and he’s able to connect with my eyes again, he pulls his hands from mine and grips the back of my head, kissing me with an unforgiving passion. He leans forward as he lowers my back to the floor, trading dominance with me, kissing me with abandon.