Page 127 of As the Rain Falls (Sainte Madeleine #1)

He gives me a minute to adjust as my vision instantly blurs. Pleasure washes over me slowly, building up until I’m unable to think, and the tears start falling rapidly. It feels so good to have him inside my body, but the shock still gets to me.

It’s way too delicate.

Way too giving.

Beckett is being so gentle, getting me to finish, talking me through it to keep me right where we are, saying dirty things to make me float on that high.

I still can’t do it, though.

I can’t get where I want to be.

Where I need to be.

And it’s not because I’m lost in thought or because I’m scared.

It’s…

It’s my body.

It’s my body that’s broken.

“I can’t do it!” I roll my eyes with frustration, realizing that my stomach keeps tensing, but the feeling of anticipation doesn’t do anything other than build up and go nowhere. “I can’t come!”

“Shh.”

Beckett pulls my legs further apart, and his fingers curl slightly, pressing something that makes me jerk against him. My lower body rolls, hips chasing after whatever just happened a moment ago, and I instantly freeze with mortifying shame.

“Oh.”

I didn’t… know about this.

Nobody told me about this.

Every book, every movie, and every boy is all about sitting there and looking pretty as you take it, but this is not that .

It takes me by surprise how this is us.

Me and him.

I’m supposed to be here, mind and soul, as well as body.

It’s exceptionally physical. Physical in a way I hadn’t thought about, it touches me in a way I hadn’t considered it would.

It feels almost as good as swimming until you’re too exhausted, waking up after a nap in the summer heat, or when cotton candy melts on your tongue.

It’s sweet and innocent and so inherently good.

It feels like…

Like freedom.

And it dawns on me that I feel so much appreciation for Beckett in every uncertain, hopeful, heart-on-my-sleeve inch of me.

It might never stop.

I don’t want to make it stop.

I’m not even willing to try it.

“Beckett.” I press my hands to my face, an uncontrollable sob starting to come out of me. “It feels…”

Good.

It feels good .

Beckett lets his weight fall on top of me a little more, grinding against me as his finger comes out and back in. He touches my chin with his free hand, urging me to let my hands drop to the side again. I do, because I want him to see me, but the softness in his gaze makes me choke.

“Good,” I moan, clenching my eyes shut again. “Beckett.”

I don’t know if it’s this last move that does it, or if it’s how consistent his touch feels. I don’t know if it’s his scent and mine combined or the way his teeth pull my bottom lip, urging me to kiss him. How our teeth clash a little, and it’s awkward, but so infinitely… good.

And yet, everything in me tightens until it feels like I have no other choice but to focus on how good I feel, how close we finally are, and how perfect this moment is.

Not a single bad thought crosses my mind.

I’m not bleeding.

It’s not stinging.

I’m here, and it doesn’t hurt.

All the lies I’ve been told, the ugly words that were spoken to me.

The deception and manipulation, the years of lying to myself just to hide my brother’s violence.

It all falls apart because someone is willing to treat me so kindly.

The feeling building up inside of me is indescribable. I will never recover from it.

“Baby?” He sits me down on his lap, brushing my hair back. “Cass?”

My fingers are shaking, trying to hide my tears from him.

Beckett stops talking, gently nuzzling my head against his chest. I tilt my face up, inhaling the comforting perfume that always lingers close to his neck.

His eyes search mine, gaze filled with worry and silent questions.

I shake my head, not knowing what to say.

“Did I hurt you?” his voice is weak.

“I…” I press my lips together, trying to dampen the hiccups. “No, you didn’t. I just always thought I couldn’t finish.”

Get there and feel good about it.

Truly good, not an ounce of guilt involved.

“Of course you can,” he reassures me, sounding only a little bit petulant now.

I let him go, and Beckett rushes to quickly grab the controller, finally turning the TV off.

“You’re not broken, you know?” he adds, as if hearing every single one of my thoughts. “You just need to give it some time.”

“Some things can’t be rushed, right?” I joke, trying to stifle my chuckle. “But like, in my wildest dreams, greatest wishes, I thought this could only happen after years of therapy and healing. Like, I’d only be granted something slightly good after years of working on myself to get to that point.”

Mostly, I thought I’d have to be good to really deserve it. But maybe painless experiences are not something always earned through effort, blood, sweat, and tears. Goodness is something that’s granted to you, like grace itself, regardless of your wrongdoings.

“That sounds like a really harsh way to perceive things,” Beckett agrees, trying to hide a little smile of his own.

I steal his shirt and put it on me, marveling at how good his scent feels now that it is completely surrounding me. I never want to be parted from it again. Beckett helps me, pulling the hem down. I stare shyly as he lets the fabric fall against my cold, tan skin.

“You’re not very good at being gentle to yourself.”

“I know. But the others always made me feel like…” I shake my head, unable to explain what I haven’t dared to voice out loud before.

It makes me feel mortified how I let them do anything to me.

“I felt like I couldn’t be loved like this, and it’s just…

If I knew that it’d be like this with you, I wouldn’t have done anything with them. ”

“So, this was better?”

“Yeah. I think…” I cut myself off, sadness creeping in. “I think it really was.”

“Cassandra...” Beckett is about to add something else, but he stops mid-sentence, unable to keep going.

His speech worsens whenever he feels too nervous about something, so I wait for him, giving him the time to get there.

The words come out through some stuttering, but the message is there.

“I need you to know that I’m never going to…

to force you to do something you don’t… you don’t want to do. ”

I swallow hard. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Not even if I’m not able to—” I stare at his pants, thinking about the parts of him that are hidden underneath them. “What if I’m not able to make you feel good?”

“I don’t care about that right now. That’s because I… I care about you more. I care, and also because I could… I could love… I think I could really love you if you let me,” he insists shyly, just a tad insecure. “I just want to keep you safe.”

Warmth fills my chest bit by bit.

“Like… Physically?”

“God, not only. No.” He shakes his head quickly, eager to explain himself. “Beyond what just happened, I want to… I want so many things.”

“Dating me?” I ask. “Getting to know me?”

“Yeah.”

“Do I make you feel good?” I wonder. “Even when I’m not having sex with you?”

Beckett nods, closing his eyes shut and inhaling deeply. “It’s so overwhelming. You’re very… very overwhelming to me.”

“Oh.”

I freeze, knowing what he means despite of the clumsy way he decided to put it. It is a bit overwhelming to let him in at times. Not totally in a good way yet because we’re both a little broken, but just good enough to make you want to stay forever and see what happens in the long run.

“I never thought I’d feel that way,” I admit, tracing the smooth line of his profile with my gaze. “Not just physically.”

“Me neither.”

“What about Alex?”

He shakes his head. “It wasn’t like that before.”

“What’s so different about it?” I kiss his cheek. “You really loved her.”

Beckett smiles without showing teeth, his eyes looking a little shinier in the dark. “You really want to talk about it?”

“Yeah.” I grin, happy to listen. “You’re massaging my ego. I really like that.”

His dark chuckle makes my chest shake, and I realize how silly my question is. If Beckett really liked someone else, he’d probably be going after them right now. His gaze would be heated for someone else, someone other than me.

A moment later, he explains.

“There’s this very interesting philosophical concept about… about how time repeats itself. Every single thing repeats itself time and—time again, like we’re in a loop.”

Every single hair in my body starts to rise.

Beckett takes my hand, holds it tight, pressing my palm against his, and playing with each of my fingers. His skin brushes against mine, and it feels like handling tiny bursts of electricity, watching them implode only to rise again out of nothing.

“Sometimes, I feel things for you that are not even there yet, but I still feel them coming like… like waves,” he clears his throat, and a pink shade starts to spread from the tip of his nose towards the highest parts of his cheeks.

“It’s like knowing . I see myself far ahead when I haven’t even hit the curve. ”

I nod slowly, smiling now, too.

“I know that.”

“Yeah?”

I smile. “I feel it too!”

He smiles too. “That’s how I know I’m going to love you.”

Shock crosses my face. “Love?”

Beckett’s grin widens. “Does it really sound that absurd?”

“I… I don’t know!” I press my lips together, feeling my face heat up. “Love is a lot!”

Beckett kisses the back of my hand, bringing it to his naked chest. “I think it’s just enough.”

“Well, maybe to you , Mr. Romantic—”

“Cassandra Rivera, listen to me.” Beckett rolls his eyes. He squeezes my hand over his beating heart, making me feel the steady thump-thump that won’t stop. “I’m going to feel you right here for a very long time, okay? And I don’t want it to be any different, ever again.”

“I…” Another stubborn tear slides down. “Even if it’s difficult?”

His thumb brushes against the side of my face. “Even if it feels impossible.”

“And wrong?” I can’t help but ask. “What if it starts feeling wrong?”

“I’ll take my chances and wait it out until it feels right again.” Beckett pokes my nose, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Us against the world, huh?”

“That’s so juvenile.” I pout. “But I feel the same way sometimes, and it’s so weird. I feel like no one knows me like you do, and then it’s like…”

“What am I even thinking?” Beckett finishes off my sentence. “I sound crazy? This isn’t normal at all?”

“Yeah.” I lick my bottom lip, tasting him still. “Because we are. I’ve really never felt that way about someone before.”

I could love him, too. We could learn from each other. Learn how to do this in the right, healthy way. I could find a way to shake my past, let it become this dormant thing that no longer swallows me whole. Make it become just a heartache, and let it heal.

“I haven’t thought about Nathaniel in hours.” My mouth falls open. My heart skips. My stomach twists. “You made me forget.”

Beckett groans jokingly, presses himself against me, and drags me back down. “Let’s not talk about him unless we really have to.”

“But it’s insane how,” I laugh brightly. “I’m so happy!”

“Mn.” I feel wet, sloppy kisses all over my face. “I’m happy too.”

I could go all the way with this boy. It’d feel good, I’m sure of it now. But it’s going to take me some time to get there. I still need to figure myself out. I’ve never had the chance to before. No one has ever given me the chance to.

My index finger brushes against his tattoo, reminding me of things I wish I could forget. It doesn’t ruin the moment, but it reminds me that I am a fraud. Lucia’s death is the last secret I’m keeping from the boy I love, too scared to lose him now that I finally got him.

In my defense, I almost flinch.

I almost truly do.