"You were in foster care?" she asked, surprised.
I nodded, carefully deciding what information I wanted to spare. "I went to live with my aunt as well, but that didn't work out. I lasted longer than six months, but I think that was only because of my cousin. She's always been very protective over me, still is to this day. But after that, I bounced around a bit from foster home to foster home. They had tried to place me with other relatives but that didn't work out, either. My mom's side of the family hated my dad and vice versa, and in the end, their hatred for one another was taken out on me."
"What happened to your parents? Why were you taken away?"
"They died." And I left it at that. I couldn't go further into it than that. "Looks like dinner is ready," I said to change the subject and put everything together so that we could eat.
We ate at the tiny bar that separated the kitchen from the other room. It was odd to eat a few feet from where she slept, but it was either that or on the floor in the space she called her living room; even that was only a few feet from where she slept. I wondered again how someone could live in such a tiny space.
I should have left once we finished eating. Not much was said during dinner, but I was content just watching her eat. It calmed down my fears of her having an eating disorder and made it clear that she was simply a picky eater and nothing more. Like I said, I should have left after that, but I didn't. Instead, I helped her clean the kitchen. I was probably stalling for time, not ready to leave her just yet. I had told her that I would leave her sessions up to her and I meant that. But that meant I didn't know when the next time was that I would see her again. So, I waited around as long as I could, stalling for just one more minute and then another. Her presence was intoxicating and I couldn't get enough.
The kitchen was so small that we were constantly in each other's way as we tried to clean everything up. She insisted numerous times that she could handle it and that I didn't need to hang around, but I couldn't bring myself to do that. For I enjoyed every time her body brushed up against mine, the close proximity making it seem normal. I just wanted to be near her.
At one point, we were literally face-to-face. That had happened several times, but that one specific time, we didn't bother dodging one another. Instead, we stood in each other's space, locking eyes without moving. I could feel her breath on my chin and found that I, too, had a hard time controlling my own breathing.
"What are you doing?" she asked breathlessly.
I wanted to say, "cleaning the kitchen," but the words wouldn't come out. The truth poured out instead. "Trying to stop myself from doing something I know I shouldn't." I kept my eyes trained on her face, roaming from her eyes to her lips and fighting my inner demons.
"What shouldn't you do?"
"Kiss you."
Her eyes then traveled to my mouth at my admission. I didn't miss the very tip of her tongue slip through the sliver between her parted lips before quickly licking her lower lip and then disappearing back inside. "You're going to have to kiss me eventually, right? I mean, isn't that part of the plan?"
She had a point and I couldn't find it in me to argue with her. I closed the gap between our bodies and covered her mouth with mine, pressing her against the counter with my weight. I began to lose control and deepened the kiss, giving her everything I had.
Her hands pressed against my chest and gently pushed me away. Her lips separated from mine and then I opened my eyes, concerned as to why she ended the kiss. There was a look on her face that I couldn't place and it sent alarm bells off in my head. Then, her small hands continued to move up my chest, up my neck, until they were holding my face still. That's when she slowly closed the distance between our mouths again, only this time, it was soft, gentle, caring. She didn't kiss me with the fierceness in which I had kissed her. She kissed me as if she were trying to memorize my lips with hers, as if it were her first and last kiss all rolled into one and she was trying to burn the memory of it in her mind.
Her hands remained on my face with her elbows tucked into my chest and I wrapped my arms around her upper back, pulling her as close as I could get her into my body. I felt a need to feel her closer to me, cocooned next to my body. It was all so different from what I was used to. I had never experienced anything like it before. I had never kissed someone so gently before, so soft and full of emotion. But Ivy had set the pace and I told her I would follow; yet her lips made me want to follow her to the end of the earth if I had to. I felt such a fierce urge to protect her, it made my breath hitch and left me with feelings that confused me. Nothing I had ever experienced during kisses before could compare.
I wasn't sure how long we slow danced through our kiss, but once she pulled away from me, completely out of breath, I knew the moment was over. I knew that was the end of whatever it was that we had experienced. And when she tucked her head into her arms against my chest, I just wanted to hold her there forever and never let her go. She was going through something and I needed to know what it was so I could hopefully understand what I was going through.
"Talk to me, Ivy," I insisted.
"I just want to be normal." Her arms and my shirt muffled her words, but I heard her loud and clear. She had spoken into my chest and I could feel her words reverberate through my body, taking it all in. She was saying everything I was feeling.
"You kissed me; doesn't that mean something? Doesn't that show you how much you're improving?" I asked the question even though I already knew the answer. Her lips answered for her, her shaky arms replaced the words and her inability to look at me told me everything I needed to know.
She shook her head, refusing to look at me.
"Hey," I said, pushing her back slightly so that I could look at her face.
Her stormy eyes were vibrant. The grey had darkened, making the red stand out. It was hard to look at her eyes like that without thinking of how she had gotten them, without picturing the evilness of her own mother. She may have been long gone, never able to hurt Ivy again, but she remained in her eyes, in her memories, and in the voices in her head. That was something that I knew all too well.
"Look at me," I insisted. "Ivy, you have come so far in just one week. This is why I've kept pushing you, why I kept coming after you. I know what I'm doing. I know how to keep you progressing. No, what I've done with you hasn't been part of my normal coaching, but it's working." Lie. Lie. The layers of lies I was spinning were incredible. I hadn't done anything for her progress. I may have told myself that in hopes that I would believe it, but nothing I did was for her. It was all for me. I was a selfish bastard and it was done to understand myself better through her. It was to spend more time with her. It had nothing to do with making her better … only with making me better. I was a self-centered prick, and I knew that at some point, it would all come back to haunt me. It would blow up in my face.
It had been a long weekend, probably one of the longest weekends of my life. Instead of calling Alyssa and begging her to come over, I spent the time thinking. I had gotten into the habit of calling Alyssa when I needed a distraction. It was much easier to call her than face the thoughts that cracked my foundation. But I made myself face the thoughts head-on instead of giving in to the phone call. And I thought a lot. Then thought some more. I thought so much I almost drove myself insane. In order to keep my mind from thoughts of Ivy, I had started working out every day. For hours every evening I'd hit the hanging bag, beat it and kick it until I was drained. I'd finish with that and then wonder how Ivy was. That's when I would jump on the treadmill, yet that proved fruitless because I'd run in place and worry that I had pushed her too far. I worried that she wouldn't ever call me because I had scared her too much. That thought made me realize how much she scared me. It made me think about all of the changes I had felt since meeting her. I'd try sit-ups and push-ups, hoping the counting would keep my mind busy. It did, but only while I was counting. Once I stopped or even took a second to think about something else, my mind was back on Ivy.
I'd take a shower once I was done in the gym, but then my hand would take over and again, I'd think about Ivy. In the shower, though, I didn't worry about her or wonder what she was doing. No … in the shower I would wonder what it would feel like to finally take her. To finally feel what she felt like on the inside as she surrounded me. I'd think about the things I had wanted to do to her and thought about the things she had admitted to wanting to have done to her. She was everywhere, even with my eyes closed. When my eyes were closed she haunted my dreams, taunting me to do the things to her body. Sensual touches, licks, and positions I had desired for so long. I woke up most mornings with my dick so hard I could've sawed through a four by four.