Page 47

TRUST

BELLA

October

As I kick off my shoes in the foyer, my phone dings with an incoming text. I’m still processing everything Jess told me at lunch. She had a lot to say about Josh Bowman.

Xander:

Where are you?

He’s been wishing me good morning and good night every day, sending me pictures of Milo, and of himself too. He’s making sure I don’t forget about him—as if that’s possible.

Me:

Home. Why?

I take off my jacket and hang it up.

Xander:

I miss you

I type out a message.

Me:

I miss you too, but it’s only been a week

Xander:

It feels like an eternity. Can I come by?

Me:

You’ll see me when you drop Milo off on Saturday

Xander:

But I want to see you now. Please

Me:

Xander, I need to work

Xander:

Please

Me:

Okay, but I’m kicking you out after an hour

When he doesn’t respond again, I head to the bathroom to wash my face and change my clothes. I’m just shimmying my pants down my hips when I hear a knock at the door.

I groan and pull my pants back up. This man will be the death of me. I’m muttering curses under my breath on my way to the door, but when I look through the peephole, I smile. Milo is here.

I throw the door open and kneel. “Milo!” He rushes to me, wagging his tail and trying to lick my face. I slump onto my butt and hug him to my chest. “Ugh, I missed you so much.”

“He missed you too. A lot. He literally dragged me up the driveway and onto the porch.”

I look up, still caressing Milo. Xander’s expression is full of warmth and tenderness, setting another kaleidoscope of butterflies loose in my belly. Only this time, it doesn’t feel weird. I’m happy to see him too.

He holds out a hand. “How about we go for a walk?”

“Sure.” I take his hand and let him help me to my feet. “Come on in. I’ll put on something warmer, and we can go.”

As we stroll down the street, we walk close, though we don’t hold hands. I insist on holding Milo’s leash, and Xander fills me in on his day. With each step, a sense of safety washes over me, the way it always does when he’s around. He is my safe place.

“I’m sick of talking about me.” He nudges me gently. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. I worked all morning and then had lunch with Jess. I planned to get more work done this afternoon, but you happened.” I side-eye him, only to find him wearing a satisfied grin. “Did you know Jess and Josh are seeing each other?”

He arches a brow. “Josh Bowman?”

“Yeah.”

“No, I had no idea.” A smile forms on his lips. “Though I definitely noticed how he looked at her when we were at the club.”

“She lights up when she talks about him.” Milo stops short and sniffs the leg of a bench, so we stop and give him a minute. “I’m rooting for them.”

“And I’m rooting for us.” He loops an arm around my waist and pulls me to his chest. For a moment, all we do is stare at each other. Then, slowly, he tips his head down.

Heat spreads through me, anticipation setting my blood on fire.

“It’s really hard to stay away from you,” he whispers. “Every day we’re apart feels like torture.”

“I miss you too,” I confess, pressing my forehead to his.

“What do you think about coming to stay with me when I get back from this next game? Just for a few days?”

The heat already humming in my veins sparks. I smile and nod. “I’d love to.”

He kisses the tip of my nose, then twines his fingers through mine as we resume our walk.

I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, taking in my reflection, my thoughts racing. I didn’t know how I’d feel being back in his house, but so far, the prevailing emotion is comfort.

Even after more than a year…his house still feels like home.

Because he is my home.

I return to the living room, where he’s relaxing on the couch.

“What happened to the mirror?” I ask, lowering myself beside him. “That’s not the one we picked out.”

His cheeks turn a shade of crimson I’ve never seen on him. “I smashed it the day you left. I couldn’t look at myself. Not in that mirror.”

“Why not?” I think I know the answer, but we still have a lot to revisit, and this is a good opening into a conversation about how we let our relationship fall apart in the first place.

“Because of the role I played in your decision to leave me.”

I fiddle with my earring, my stomach in knots, and force a deep breath into my lungs. “And what role was that?”

He sits forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped.

“For years after college, I felt guilty about what happened to Stacey. I was sure she’d never be the same again.

The image of her in that hospital bed was imprinted on my brain.

” He clears his throat. “So, when I saw her again, this new, strong version of her, I developed this weird fixation. I worried that if I didn’t make sure she was okay, she’d revert to that broken girl.

I became so invested in her well-being, I lost focus of my own priorities.

I didn’t realize what I was doing to you or how much I’d damaged our relationship until it was too late. ”

I take his hand and give it a squeeze.

He takes a deep breath, blinking several times.

“And the way I kept trying to handle your problems for you instead of giving you the space to do it yourself…please know, it came from a good place. Misguided, but good. It was never about control or mistrust. I wanted to take care of you, to protect you, but instead I made you think I didn’t trust your ability to stand up for yourself.

” He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“I believe in you. I’m a hundred percent sure you can hold your ground and be a badass little menace.

I knew it then, even if I didn’t show it.

I saw it the night I met you. I promise not to meddle or to back off if you tell me to, but I’ll also step in if you want me to. Any time.”

I blink back the tears welling up in my eyes. “Thank you for saying that. It means a lot that you’re honest with me.”

“Always. I’ll always be honest with you, and I’ll never avoid difficult conversations like I did before.”

“I’m sorry about it too. I should’ve communicated better when things were bothering me. I should’ve been more honest.”

“We made a lot of mistakes, but what matters is that we’re willing to work through them.” He squeezes my hand in return, tilting his head to the side. “Do you want something to eat?”

“No. I had lunch with Aunt Millie before I came over.”

“Okay.” He sits back and scans the living room, his gaze not lingering on anything for long.

“You know, when I told my father you were coming back to Boston, he asked me if I thought you’d want me in your life.

And no matter how bitter the truth is, no matter how hard I try to convince myself I do, I still don’t know the answer to that question. ”

I press my hand to his breastbone, my skin growing warm. “You do, I promise. You know the answer.”

For a moment, it feels like we’ve gone back in time.

Like we’re back in the darkness of his living room two years ago, when he told me about Stacey’s suicide attempt, about what Jake did to her, when he confessed his feelings for me.

He is my guy. My person. The one I fell in love with and couldn’t stop loving even when I was certain we were over for good.

“Are you still curious about my tattoos?” I whisper.

He looks up, a cute smile lighting up his handsome face. “Yes. Will you show them to me?” The gravel in his tone has heat blooming in my lower abdomen.

“Yes.” I move closer, holding my arm out to him. Gently, he wraps his fingers around my wrist and brings it closer to his face.

“‘Don’t just exist, live.’” He looks at me. “Why birds, though?”

“Birds are free,” I say, scooting a little closer.

“They can fly anywhere. Every year, they leave their home to spend winter where it’s warm and sunny.

” I lick my lips, shivering under the intensity of his gaze.

“I was a bird in a cage, simply existing. Then I finally chose myself. I spread my wings and took off in hopes of finding a better life. And now, I live .”

“Beautifully said, and it suits you.” He ghosts his fingers over my skin, and I hold my breath, enjoying his gentle caress. “What about the one on your neck? I haven’t gotten a good look at it.”

With a smile, I turn around and push my hair aside. All the while, my heart pounds.

This one is about him.

He moves closer, his hot breath on my neck, sending tingles down my spine. I close my eyes, anticipating his touch.

He doesn’t disappoint. “‘Wild one.’” He clears his throat, trying hard to sound unaffected. “And my number. Seventeen.”

“Don’t forget, I was born on the seventeenth,” I tease.

He cuffs the back of my neck from behind and squeezes. The move instantly makes my clit throb. With a low rumble, he squeezes a little harder, forcing me to look at him.

“What?”

“It’s my number, isn’t it?” His eyes swim with desperation. He wants this tattoo to be about him. “Bella?”

“Yes,” I confess, my nipples pebbling under my tee. “I’m a wild one with you. Only you, because you’re the same.”

He growls in my ear and splays his other hand on my stomach, embracing me from behind. “The third tattoo.” He gives my neck another gentle squeeze. “Where is it?”

The gravel in his voice and the warmth of his touch make my eyes roll back. With a thick swallow, I tap his hand, and when he releases me, I carefully turn around and assess him. If eye-fucking really existed, I’d be floating on the waves of an endless orgasm right now.

His attention is exhilarating, the heat in his expression erotic.

All my sanity has clearly been washed away by those same waves. I take off my T-shirt, and goosebumps scatter over my exposed skin. I’m not wearing a bra, so I cover my breasts with one arm, nerves skittering down my spine.

“Where is it?” His words are dripping with need, his expression one of absolute hunger.

I turn slightly so he can see it, ready to give him an explanation. I assume he’ll ask for the meaning behind it, but instead he drags a hand over his mouth and zeroes in on my face.

“Even miles apart, we think the same way.”

I’m still trying to process his words when he pulls his tee over his head and tosses it to the floor.

I swallow hard, my gaze frantically moving up his form.

He smirks, probably knowing it’s virtually impossible for me to find a new tattoo on his already ink-filled chest. He points to a space on his left pec, and warmth envelops me.

Trust.

In the time we were apart, we each tattooed the word on our bodies. Mine is inked just below my right breast, while his is over his left nipple.

“What does it mean? Why that word?” I ask, my lips trembling.

“What you said when you left stuck in my head. You told me I lacked trust in you, in your ability to handle your problems yourself.” He clears his throat.

“You were right. In my attempts to keep you safe, I caged you in. I was a fucking asshole, and I got this tattoo so I’d never forget to believe in you.

You are a survivor, Bella. A warrior. A phoenix.

You’re my girl, and I can’t live without you. ”

Before he’s even finished speaking, I’m straddling him. This urge, this impulse, never faded. I’m as hot for him as he is for me. His lips sear my skin, burning a trail up my neck until I’m begging him to fuck me.

“Take me to your bedroom. Please.”

He stands and guides my legs around his hips. Our mouths clash, trying to take possession of one another. I suck his bottom lip into my mouth and rake my teeth over it. Instantly, the copper taste of blood hits my tongue.

“Goddamn it,” he groans, fisting my ponytail and tugging.

The pain only heightens my desire. Grinding the ache between my legs over his hardness, I moan loud enough for the sound to echo off the ceiling.

“We won’t make it to my bedroom if you keep this up.”

Winding my arms around his neck, I press my naked breasts to his chest, rubbing my puckered nipples over his skin. “I don’t care.”

With a grunt, he slams my back into the wall, knocking the air out of my lungs.

Pain arcs through me, painting my vision in vivid, visceral colors and amplifying the pulse between my legs.

I capture his lips with mine as he guides me to my feet and drags my shorts and panties down my legs.

Once I’m completely naked, he clutches my ass with both hands, making me spread my legs wide.

Then he dives in, taking my needy clit into his mouth.

“Oh my God…” I cry, palming my breast and plucking at my nipple, adding more friction to my already aroused state.

He hooks my leg over his shoulder and works miracles on my nub, sucking, licking, teasing. Head thrown back, I dig my fingers into his hair. He’s all I feel, and I’m desperate for more.

A gentle suck is replaced by a hard one, and then he licks a line from my entrance to my clit, once, twice, more and more until my mind goes hazy. The second he plunges two fingers into me, I come.

My body trembles and squirms, but he doesn’t stop. He pumps into me, circling his tongue over my swollen clit. The fire in my lower abdomen flares, and intense liquid heat gathers and builds. If he doesn’t stop now, he’ll make me squirt.

“Your pussy is so fucking delicious.” He looks up at me, his eyes blazing, a devilish smile on his face.

His fingers move relentlessly inside me, curling and hitting my favorite spot again and again, until I can’t take it anymore.

Eyes clamped shut, I let go, squirting all over his fingers and the floor.

“Yeah, baby, give it to me,” he coos, his hot breath on my clit.

Once I come down, my breaths sawing in and out of my lungs, he stands and circles an arm around my waist. “I fucking love making you come, and when you squirt? Fuck . I feel like a goddamn king.”

“Proud of yourself, are you?” I cock an eyebrow.

“A little.” He nuzzles my neck, breathing me in.

“How about we take a shower?” I suck my bottom lip into my mouth. Sex in the bathroom has always been one of our favorites. “Your pants are kinda ruined.”

“I kinda don’t care.” With a loud laugh, he scoops me into his arms and strides toward his bedroom.

I wrap my arms around his shoulders, wanting no space between us, wanting nothing to separate us. Not now. Not ever.

It’s us. It’s always only been us. And that’s exactly how it should be.