“Then why are you here?”
“I can’t…I can’t stay away. I couldn’t be at my place and know you were here, thinking I forgot your birthday or didn’t care.”
More tears fell. “But this is worse.”
“I know.”
“This hurts more.”
He exhaled. “I know.”
“How am I meant to handle this?”
“Just…try,” he pleaded. “Please, try.”
He turned my face to him. In the dim light cast by the lamp on my night table, my eyes adjusted to him. From up close, he really did look older somehow. His face had filled out so much. There wasn’t a single boyish feature in him anymore.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized contritely. “I’m so sorry for leaving you like that. It was the biggest mistake of my life, and I’m so sorry for hurting you.”
I stared at him for a long time. This was real, wasn’t it? He wasn’t a figment of my sleepy imagination. He was actually apologizing to me and touching me and staring at me in that goddamn way I yearned for.
I raised my hand and touched his face. He shut his eyes as I ran my finger down his cheek and across his jawline. My heart hurt and exploded at the same time. This was misery and happiness twisted together as one. He leaned into my touch, until he was inches from my face. I felt his breaths against my mouth. He opened his eyes slowly and looked into mine. His breathing picked up and his thumb drew circles on my cheek as we gazed at one another.
“How have you been?” he asked me, his voice still wretched.
“Terrible,” I answered quietly.
“I’m here now, okay?”
I nodded, circling his lips with my thumb. They were so soft. God, I missed the feel of them.
He inhaled sharply at my touch, and his jaw tensed. He looked conflicted for a moment, and then he asked, “Has there been anyone since I left?”
I shook my head slowly, still staring at his lips. “No.”
He let out a breath and dropped his forehead to mine. His hand drifted from my cheek to my hair. I felt him grip a chunk as he looked down at me. Minutes passed with him inching closer, until we were practically breathing each other’s breaths. My hand drifted down the side of his body and I urged him to get closer. His body began at my side and ended with him over me, a position that was all too familiar – all too missed.
There were so many unresolved issues between us, yet we still gravitated to one another. All of that weight faded into the background as we locked eyes. This man was my need, my love, my obsession. Right from the beginning, the boundaries between us were made to be broken.
“Has there been anyone since you left?” I asked him back.
He shook his head solemnly. “You know there hasn’t been, El. There never will be.”
I couldn’t feel emptiness anymore. Couldn’t even remember what it was like when he was touching me like this.
He studied me fixedly as he slid his hand down the side of my body. He was seeking permission, and when I didn’t react, he continued.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he told me. “It’s fucked up, El. I have to force you out of my head and think about numbers just to make it through the day.”
“Then stop forcing me out of your head,” I muttered back.
He lifted my shirt up and stroked the bottom of my stomach. I shivered beneath him, feeling blood rush straight to the spot between my legs. He continued watching me, his breathing picking up as he inched beneath the hem of my pants.
“Can I feel you?” he asked in a whisper.
I bit my lip, hesitating. “Just a little bit.”
His lips quirked up. “Just a little bit?”
I nodded. “Little bit.”
His fingers slid further down the hem of my pants, brushing against my tender skin, and I shivered at the feeling.
“Is that a little bit, El?”
“No,” I lightly moaned. “A little more.”
“A little more?”
His fingertips brushed against that sensitive spot again, harder this time. I opened my mouth to gasp when he kissed me.
His kiss was deep, thorough. His tongue tangled with mine and I felt sparks from head to toe. Why was this man so different than all the rest? Why did he turn me inside-out and leave me utterly defenceless?
I didn’t know. I didn’t care.
He rubbed me as he kissed me, stealing my breath as I moaned and writhed.
“A little more,” I panted, flushed from head to toe. “More, Aston.”
He slipped my pants down my legs, until there was nothing separating him from me. Then he pulled back and moved down my body, spreading my legs apart as he settled his head between them.
His tongue slid across the most private part of me, and then he sucked at my clit, the suction rhythmic and constant. The room spun, or maybe it was a combination of the grogginess and pleasure. My feet dug into the mattress as he tasted me, using that tongue in ways that left me breathless and needy. I buckled and moaned. God, I was so sensitive, I was going to come in an instant.