Fear of Falling(66)

What the fuck?

“My other girls? What the hell does that mean?”

A hard scowl marred her soft features as if she was conjuring an unpleasant memory. “CJ. He said you like damaged girls. He said you needed to feel like you could rescue them.” She looked down at the cooling mug of tea in her slightly shaking hands. “Because of your mom.”

I was on my feet and pacing, fists clenched at my sides, before good sense could stop me. “CJ needs to mind his own fucking business!”

Kami flinched, and I instantly regretted my outburst. I willed myself to calm down, shaking away the fresh wave of tension. “I’m sorry,” I muttered pathetically. “But he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I don’t have any other girls, Kami.”

She nodded, though I could tell she was unconvinced. Shit.

“But you have, and that’s why I’m here, isn’t it? You do feel the need to fix girls like me, don’t you?” Anger and disgust replaced the fear that had occupied her face. “You can’t fix me, Blaine. So don’t even try.”

“Dammit!” I nearly flew to her side, snatching the mug out of her hands and setting it on the nightstand. “That’s not why you’re here, Kami. Not at all. Do I want to take your pain away? Yes. Do I want to make it so you never have to wake up crying like that again? Hell yes. But do I want you here just to satisfy some sick wounded-bird complex? Fuck no!” I grasped her face between my hands, forcing her to look at me. “I want you, Kami. I care about you, and that’s the only reason why I want you here with me. Ok? Fuck what CJ said. I just want you. And if you need me to demonstrate just how much that is, I’d be happy to… Again.”

Her face flamed red, as memories of the early morning hours came barging into the tense moment. She was remembering my lips on her, tasting, sucking, teasing. My tongue plunging into her, devouring her sweetness like it was my last meal. The feel of my barbell flicking her sensitive clit, causing her to cry out my name.

Kami was ready for me, and holy fuck, I was ready for her. But I wanted to make her feel good. I wanted her to know that I wanted nothing from her aside from her taste on my tongue. And my God, she tasted good. So good that I was ready to dive in for another round just to hear her scream my name again.

Or maybe that was just what my sick, twisted mind wanted to believe. It was hard to tell, being that all the blood in my body was centralized elsewhere.

“Do you trust me?” I asked, touching my forehead to hers.

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Then stop trying to leave. Just stay, Kami. If you don’t want to sleep, we don’t have to. I can just hold you. Or we can talk. Whatever you want to do.”

“I don’t want to talk anymore,” she replied with a shake of her head. “Let’s just…lay here. Let’s just be.”

I crooked a smile and eased her head down on the pillow, positioning myself on my side to lie beside her. We stared at each other for long seconds that turned into minutes, neither one of us knowing the right words to say. I wanted her to know how I felt, but I didn’t want to scare her. I also wanted to know how she felt about me, but I was too chicken-shit to ask.

“Blaine?” she whispered, breaking the ice. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” And she could. She could ask me absolutely anything.

“Your mom… What CJ said… What did he mean?”

Anything but that.

I rolled onto my back with a huff and scrubbed a hand over my face. Shit. I didn’t want to go there. Not with her or anyone else.

“If you can’t talk about it, I understand,” she muttered, sensing my discomfort. She was giving me an out, and, dammit, I wanted to take it. But I had promised her honesty. And if I had any chance at cracking the mystery behind those green eyes, I had to prove myself.

“My mom died when I was 13. I was sent to live with my uncle and his family right afterward,” I answered, my voice devoid of all emotion. Over the past twelve years, I had the said the same lines over and over again until they didn’t hurt anymore.

“And?”

She knew there was more. I just didn’t know if I could give her more than that. Not when it came to my mother.

I shook my head. “And that’s all. People die. We move on. We learn to deal.”

“But you haven’t,” she interjected, placing her small hand on my bare chest to cushion the blow. “You haven’t learned to deal. You’re still hurting.”

I placed my own hand on top of hers and gripped it, holding on to any semblance of peace. “We all hurt, Kami. It’s a part of life.”