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Chapter Eleven
Ryan
I’ve been dreaming about her since Sunday. Every night. Every time I close my eyes, she’s there. She’s with me.
I don’t remember how it starts but it’s always the same. Every time. One second, I’m floating inside my own skin. Bumping and drifting in slow motion. The weightlessness of it scares me. I feel lost. Directionless. Like I’m fumbling my way through the dark, trying to find the light.
And then, suddenly, there she is.
Grace.
As soon as I feel her moving over me, it all goes away. I feel found. Like I have a purpose. Not the bullshit kind of purpose that Con and Patrick made-up and shoved at me to try to keep me from eating my gun.
A real purpose.
Strong and solid.
Grace.
Even though I should, I don’t question it. I don’t examine it too closely because I’m afraid if I do, it’ll break apart in my hands. Turn to dust and leave me behind like everything else.
Like everyone else.
So, I don’t question it.
I don’t ask why.
I just hold on.
Let it take me.
“Ryan…” She whispers my name as she slides over me, moves against me, her pale blonde hair falling around us. Shutting us in. Closing everything out but us.This. “It’s okay…” She says it against my mouth, her lips moving against mine. “Don’t be afraid.” Her tongue licks its way into my mouth to tangle with mine, every sweep and stroke slow and languid, coaxing me to surrender. Open up.
To let go.
Let her in.
“Touch me, Ryan.” Her hands move across my shoulders. Her fingers grip, sliding down the length of my arms, following the knots and ridges of the scar tissue that covers them.
The sensation of her hands moving over me sets off an alarm, faint and distant. I don’t want her to touch them. My scars. I want to tell her to stop but I can’t because as much as I don’t want her to touch me, I need her to. I need to feel her hands on me. Need the way her skin feels against mine. The way she says my name, soft and breathless, like a prayer.
Her.
I need her.
Grace.
I say her name out loud, groan it softly, tipping my head back while her teeth and tongue nip and lick their way along the clenched muscles of my jaw. The taut, corded line of my neck.
“Don’t be afraid,” she says again, levering herself up to look down at me. Lifting her hands, she takes mine with them, bringing them up to shape them around her breasts. “It’s okay, Ryan.” She circles her slim, delicate fingers around my wrists, holding me in place. Moaning softly when I give in, brushing my thumbs against her swollen nipples. Louder when I lift myself up to meet her. Cup her full, soft breast in my hand to hold it steady for my mouth. Cool fingers slide through my hair. The alarm sounds again, this time closer. Louder now, but I ignore it. Block it out.
A little more.
Please, just a little while longer…
I concentrate on how perfect she is. The hot, frantic throb of her nipple against my tongue. How soft and delicate her skin feels under my wide, callused palm as I slide my hand over the flawless curve of her ass. Along the back of her thigh. “Grace…”
“Yes…” she gasps, lifting herself onto her knees when she feels the rough brush of my blunt-tipped fingers against her slick, swollen pussy. Tilts her hips, moving and pushing against me to stroke herself with them, urging me on. Begging me to lush my way inside. “Please, Ryan…” she moans softly, her plea breaking against a sharp, shuddering gasp when I give in completely, fucking my fingers into her, so hard and deep she immediately begins to shake under the weight and pressure of the orgasm baring down on her, snaking and racing down the length of her spine. “Wait,” she breathes into my ear as one of her arms slips from around my neck to push a hand between us to wrap it around my cock. “Wait. I need…”