Maybe Someday(107)

“Are you nervous?” he asks. His voice brushes across my mouth, and I slide my tongue over my bottom lip, convinced that I could taste his words if I tried.

I nod, and his eyes soften with his smile.

“Me, too,” he whispers. He squeezes my hands tighter and then lays his head across my bare chest. I can feel the rhythm of his body rise and fall against mine with every tense breath. His entire body sighs, and one by one, each muscle begins to relax. His hands are still, and he’s not exploring my body or listening to me sing or having me tell him I love him.

He’s still, because he’s listening to me.

He’s listening to the beat of my heart.

His head lifts off my chest in one swift motion as he locks eyes with mine. Whatever realization he’s just had causes his gaze to pierce mine with excitement.

“I want to try something that might help,” he says. “Do you have earplugs?”

Earplugs?

I know the confusion can be seen in my expression. I nod anyway and point to the nightstand. He leans over me, opens the drawer, and feels around inside. When he finds them, he lowers himself beside me again, then places them in the palm of my hand. He motions for me to put them in my ears.

“Why?”

He smiles and kisses me, then trails his lips to my ear. “I want you to hear me love you.”

I look down at the earplugs, then back up at him questioningly. “How can I hear you if I’m wearing these?”

He shakes his head, then places his hands over my ears. “Not here,” he says. He moves a hand to my chest. “I want you to hear me from right here.”

That’s all the explanation I need. I quickly put the earplugs in, then adjust my head on my pillow. All the noise around me slowly fades away. I wasn’t aware of all the sounds I was taking in until they no longer run through my head. I don’t hear the clock ticking anymore. I no longer hear the usual activity outside my window. I can’t hear the sheets moving beneath us or the pillow under my head or the bed when he shifts his weight.

I hear nothing.

He grabs my hand and opens up my palm, then turns my hand around and places it over my heart. Once my palm is flush against my heart, he reaches to my face and brushes his hand over my eyes, closing them. He scoots himself away from me until he’s no longer touching any part of me.

He becomes still, and I no longer feel him moving next to me.

It’s quiet.

It’s dark.

I hear absolutely nothing. I’m not sure this is working out the way he imagined.

I hear nothing but complete silence. I hear what Ridge hears every moment of his life. The only thing I’m aware of is my own heartbeat and nothing else. Nothing at all.

Wait.

My heartbeat.

I open my eyes and look at him. He’s several inches away from me on the bed, smiling. He knows I hear it. He smiles softly, then pulls my hand away from my heart and places it against his chest. Tears begin to well in my eyes. I have no idea how or if I even deserve him, but there’s one thing I know for sure. As long as he’s a part of it, I’ll never live a life of mediocrity. My life with Ridge will be nothing short of remarkable.

He rolls on top of me and lowers his cheek to mine, holding completely still for several long seconds.

I can’t hear his breaths, but I feel them as they fall against my neck.

I can’t hear his movements, but I feel him when he begins making the softest, most subtle shifts against me.

Our hands are still locked between us, so I focus on the beat of his heart, drumming against my palm.

Beat, beat, pause.

Beat, beat, pause.

Beat, beat, pause.

I can feel my entire body relaxing beneath him while he continues to make the subtlest of movements against me. He presses his hips into mine for two seconds, then relaxes and pulls back for a brief second before repeating the motion. He repeats this movement several times, and I can feel my need for him growing with each rhythmic movement against me.

The more my desire builds, the more impatient I become. I want to feel his mouth on mine. I want to feel his hands all over me. I want to feel him push inside me and make me his completely.

The more I think about what I want from him, the more responsive I become to the subtle shifts of his weight against me. The more responsive I become, the faster our hearts race against the palms of our hands.

Beat, beat, pause.

Beatbeat, pause.

Beatbeatpause.

Beatbeatpause.

The faster our hearts race, the quicker his rhythm becomes, matching each beat of my heart movement for movement.

I gasp.

He’s moving to the sound of my heart.

I wrap my free arm around his neck and focus on his heartbeat, instantly aware that our hearts are perfectly in sync. I tighten my legs around his waist and lift myself against him, wanting him to make my heart beat even faster. He skims his lips across my cheek until they’re flush against my mouth, but he doesn’t kiss me. The silence around me makes me even more aware of the pattern of his breath falling against my skin. I focus on my palm against his chest and feel his quick intake of air, seconds before I taste the sweetness of his breath as he exhales, teasing my mouth.