Snow and Mistletoe(12)

I grip his biceps, my nails digging into his firm muscles. I just need a little more pressure. It’s so close I can feel it. I push my hips up against him, using him for my pleasure. I drag my sex against his, but he remains completely still over me. His hold is firm and steady, and my hips move at just the right angle, and that’s all it takes. I explode against him, his name pouring from my lips and filling the silent room. The delicious pleasure cascades through my body as heat spreads between us.

I hold on to him so tightly, as if he’ll disappear if I release him. Not wanting to let this moment go, I cling to him. For so long I dreamed of having him over me and now that it’s a reality, I can’t let it end. The distance he’s always tried to keep between us vanishes in this moment, and I’m going to savor it.

When I start to come down, the reality of what I just did hits me. I just rubbed myself against him, using him for my own pleasure. I hear and feel his heavy breathing on top of me, both our bodies gasping for air, filling the silence that seems to hang between us constantly. It’s a silence I long to fill with words I can’t bring myself to say.

Then he’s gone. His warmth leaves my body, taking all of mine with him as he shoots from the bed. The blanket that was covering us hits the floor. The cold air makes goosebumps break out all over my body. He doesn’t say a word as he storms from the room, slamming the door behind him so hard I swear I feel the bed shake.

“Holy shit,” I whisper to myself. That’s when I feel the wetness that’s coating the outside of my underwear.

He came.

I thought cumming was a good thing. Clearly Alex isn’t happy about it. He stormed from the room like his ass was on fire. Oh, my God. Did I force myself on him? Wait, under him. Can you force yourself under someone?

I roll over, shoving my face into the pillows. Could this get any more awkward? What is wrong with me? Could I have been any clingier? I’m all too happy to crawl into his bed and strip down at his suggestion. A little self-conscious at the time, but that didn’t seem to stop me from throwing my clothes off and snuggling deep into his bed. I invited him to join me even after he seemed to want to sleep on the freaking floor.

Clue in, Noelle.

Frustrated, I grab the pillow and throw it across the room. Sitting up, I lean against the headboard and try to think of a way out of this. Maybe I could sneak out in the morning.

This is all so confusing. One minute I felt like he wants to be near me, as if he is longing for me like I am for him. Then the next, it’s like having cold water thrown on me.

I remember the sensation of him over me and how it felt so right. The way my hands gripped him tightly, never wanting to let go. The scars under my fingertips. The scars.

It all starts clicking together. He won’t look at me. My heart clenches. Does he really think I’m so vain, or do the scars just bother him that much? I haven’t seen all of him, but from what I’ve seen and felt, he’s perfect. How he could doubt himself, I have no idea. He is pure male perfection.

I have my flaws, too. My skin may be free of scars, but I carry my own marks. I don’t have a perfect hard body like his. I have wide hips and thick thighs. I’m not what you’d call pretty or sexy. Maybe a nerdy kind of cute, but I’ve often thought I’m a little mousy. Random stretch marks litter my body. They’re not scars like his, but they mark me, and I often feel self-conscious about them.

Maybe I could show him it doesn’t matter to me. That none of it does. I didn’t fall for him because of what he looks like. Hell, I was half in love with him before I ever even saw him. Climbing from the bed, I unhook my bra and drop it to the floor, my panties following suit. I take a deep breath to calm my now-racing heart, and I give myself a pep talk. I can do this. It’s all or nothing.

At this point I’ve got nothing to lose. Either he wants nothing to do with me and I’ve lost him from my life, or maybe he does want something from me and is too scared to act on it. I can show Alex that I want him by baring myself to him like I want him to do for me.

When I’m standing in front of the door, I give myself one last pep talk. Stop living in your head, and take what you want. As I pull the door handle, I come face to face with Alex. He’s got both hands braced on the door, and his tall form towers over me.

I gasp at the look on his face.

Hunger, longing, need. It’s all there as his eyes roam my naked body before landing back on my face. The angry-looking scars on the left side of his face run down to his neck. They look like they’ve healed over time but still look painful.

I reach to touch him, but he’s on me instantly. He lifts me into his arms. My feet dangle off the floor as his lips crash onto mine. All the hunger I saw in his eyes bleeds through in his kiss. His tongue pushes into my mouth, taking what it wants. I never knew you could feel so much from a kiss. That it could tell you everything you wanted to know.