Page 126 of As the Rain Falls (Sainte Madeleine #1)

“Are you scared?”

I shrug. “A little?”

I hate it. I don’t know what I hate about how insecure I sound, but I hate it.

Beckett hums in quiet understanding, sounding almost out of breath. I smile sadly, and he notices it. I sometimes think he notices everything about me.

“Cass, we can stop,” he reminds me, always so patient. “We can take things slow, like we talked about. I’m fine with just kissing you.”

“Please, I really don’t want to just kiss.” I wet my lips and try to swallow around the lump stuck in my throat. “I’m not telling you to go faster either… I just. I just want to feel a little good for once.”

His forehead touches mine, and I still. Feeling too vulnerable to speak again, I take a deep breath and look at our chests combined.

Beckett moves, readjusting his weight so he won’t hurt me, and I…

I hesitate, not wanting to force his hand on this either.

Kissing, having sex, and exploring whatever this is are all things we both need to want to do together.

It can’t be just me.

I don’t want a repeat of what happened with the other boys.

I also don’t want to be the desperate girl who wouldn’t stop kissing Beckett in his car.

This is how things should have been all the other times too, but I couldn’t wrap my head around the concept entirely.

Maybe I’m starting to, just now, even if it hurts a little to try.

“What do you need?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are my fingers okay?” Beckett asks me, sounding every bit as affected as I am.

“I… Maybe, yeah.”

“Okay, let’s try. Do you want me to take my clothes off?” Beckett asks, his eyebrows furrowing with confusion. “Would it make you feel more at ease?”

I’m immediately soothed.

The sound of his voice drives me insane, forcing me to choke out the tiniest sound of sadness because I can’t stand how warm my body already feels when we barely even started.

I like it.

I like this version of sex already.

I want him so desperately, it makes my entire body ache.

“I… No.” I hear myself trail off. The usually angry voice in my head goes quiet because it knows that this is the kind of thing I’m allowed to do with someone I like and feel attracted to. “I want to be naked for you.”

It’s not exactly what I want to say, but it is the closest to how I feel.

“Jesus, fuck.” Beckett rolls his eyes with pleasure as he presses himself to me. “You really want to do that?”

“Yeah.” I hold him close, circling his shoulders with my arm. “Can I? I want you to see me.”

I watch him pause, consider it for a second, before eagerly starting to give in. It makes me smile again, a little happier this time around, too spoiled to care about anything other than this moment.

Beckett takes a deep breath before pulling the flimsy piece of fabric towards my head, slipping it off me. It tugs at my necklace, making it tighten around my neck. I touch the string, absentmindedly readjusting it against my skin and feeling the metal warming up between my index finger and thumb.

The way he touches my ribs and slowly drags his fingers towards the curve of my waist is so intimate. I close my eyes to feel his touch and let it wash over me, and the darkness enhances my senses a little more.

Another sound escapes me, and it sounds like a little whine.

“Cassandra,” Beckett warns me, uncertain about this still. “You need to tell me when to stop.”

“I will,” I promise, eyelashes fluttering open to watch him.

“I’m being serious, Cassie,” he adds, swearing solemnly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

And I understand it.

I get why he feels that way.

I don’t think I’m the best communicator when it comes to being close to him physically, and every attempt at intimacy comes off so awkward. Maybe it’s because I have no idea of what I’m doing, even though I’ve been with other guys.

Sex should be something I know enough about by now, but I feel clueless still.

I feel young.

Too young.

A kiss to my shoulder, another to the swell of my breast. It’s the most sensitive part of me, just as sensitive as what’s down there. I’ve never had anyone touch me so gently, but Beckett’s thumb circles the hard nipple until I have to try to squeeze my legs together.

“Beckett.”

I breathe loudly, my heart beating so fast I start to think it might collapse any time soon. His eyes darken when I brush my fingers through his hair just how he likes it.

“Cassandra.”

“Take it off.” I motion to my shorts, my voice whiny and breathless. Beckett starts to pull them down before stopping midway, and I bite my lip, wanting it gone faster. “Please, take my clothes off.”

I meant what I said. I want to be naked for him. I need him to see me, what I’m made of, where I’ve been to, and what I’m scared of. Every scar, every bump. I’m the only one who knows about them, but now I want him to see them too.

Beckett does it in a swift move, the flimsy fabric sliding off until it reaches my ankles. I wiggle my feet, throwing it to the floor nonchalantly, and he drifts his eyes away from it quickly, as if the piece of clothing means nothing to him anymore.

“Hi.”

I inhale deeply, staring with wide eyes as he readjusts himself to get a better look. He smiles at me, and I reach out to touch the sides of his face. My fingers are shaking with nerves, but he kisses the center of my palm sweetly.

“Beautiful.”

Tears start to gather at the corners of my eyes. Beckett touches the beauty marks around my chest, pressing little kisses to the freckles that always pop when I spend too much time under the sun. I arch involuntarily, my body bursting with anticipation.

This is intense for both of us, just like everything else has been so far. I am lying under him, wearing only my panties. I wish I could peel off my skin too, even if the thought of it feels a little gross.

He sighs, as if in pain.

“I wish you could see yourself right now.”

“Right now?” I muse, arching a brow.

“Every day,” Beckett pauses, leaning down to press his lips on me for another kiss. “You make me feel so mad.”

I get it.

I feel mad about him sometimes, too.

When I wake up in the morning, only find him standing in the bathroom, quietly brushing his teeth.

Or when I’m downstairs already, watching him make us coffee, listening to whatever music he likes to listen to.

His hips are always swaying each way because Beckett is not a singer but more of a secret dancer.

I get mad at him, just a little. It makes me want to shake him, wrap myself around him, and tell him to stop being so—

Beckett pauses near my collarbones, bites the skin near my pulse, and traces lower again. It takes less than a second for his tongue to dart out, sucking my other nipple in. His teeth graze over the most sensitive part, just as his other hand keeps touching me so gently, palming my other breast.

Somehow, it feels even better than the touch of his hand. It’s warm and wet, and it awakens the kind of pleasure that goes straight to my core. I start to pant, listening as he makes wet noise after wet noise from sucking my skin.

“God, I love how your skin tastes.”

It’s so good.

Too good.

Don’t cry.

Don’t cry.

Don’t cry.

If you cry right now, it’ll ruin everything.

I close my eyes shut, forgetting about each time I got called something other than beautiful in bed. I start to pull his clothes, and he takes off his shirt, giving me the chance to finally press myself against him.

Bone against bone.

Skin against skin.

I want to feel his body against mine forever.

“I need more.” Something like a moan slips past his lips, and it makes my insides burn so good. “Please.”

I watch him tense, not knowing what to do with himself.

“Cassandra.” Beckett starts rising up to kiss me again.

It gets me distracted, dizzy enough, and it’s deceptive, like he holds a knife to the root of every single upsetting memory I carry inside of me and cuts it, leaving no traces of bad weeds behind. I know I’ll find them growing all over again later, but for now this feels so good.

It makes me forget.

Beckett lowers himself, still half-clothed, and presses his hip to mine. The pressure feels insane. He has me biting my lip, closing my eyes, and making needy sounds that don’t even sound like myself.

I.

Don’t.

Sound.

Like.

Me.

Who is she?

Who is this girl who wants this so badly?

I’m not ready for her. I’m not…

“Do I keep going, baby?” his voice is hoarse, palms pausing around my hips.

“Please, don’t stop,” I beg. “I want you so bad.”

A second later I feel him pushing the fabric of my panties to the side in a quick motion.

This.

Yes .

Stop the time.

Stop the world.

Stop every single thing that isn’t me and him.

I lose track of time completely, kissing him, hiding my face against his neck, and pressing my nails against his shoulders. All along, Beckett keeps his mouth close to my ear, whispering the sweetest things I’ve ever heard, driving me to insanity.

The room starts to fill with our noises, mine and his, and I feel sweat start to gather down my back, making my skin slightly sticky.

I’ve never been wet down there, not without feeling disgusting too, but I’m so wet now that I can hear the noises as he takes his time, presses, and massages every fold.

“I’m going to…” I open my eyes, searching for his. “I need you to…”

More.

“Breathe.”

“Beckett,” I whine, unable to keep myself quiet.

“Breathe for me,” he insists, fingers tracing lower.

The reminder makes me smile. I often forget to do it when I’m around him. Beckett makes me disregard the most obvious thing I need to do to keep on living. It’s unnatural how he reaches the deepest parts of my brain until they all start to malfunction.

“Baby.” He tenses on top of me. “Do I keep going?”

My eyes widen, lips forming an ‘o’ once I realize what’s happening next. I shake my head twice, forcing myself to inhale and exhale. The air comes through my nose and out of my mouth as Beckett dips his finger inside of me.

One, then another.

That makes it two.