Page 85 of Heavy

I wonder what her hard answers are… no, not hard. I don’t want to use that term. Heavy. Those questions and answers that weigh down on us, and that we shoulder alone. I want to know her, and I think we both can agree it’s a mutual feeling. I’m not so concerned about telling her the things that happened to me, if she wants to run after she finds everything out, she better be fast.

She’s mine until I say so, which may be unfortunate for her. I’ve not obsessed over anything or anyone before, and I can feel it consuming me. It may be unhealthy but, in the grand scheme of things, what exactly is healthy? My life sure as shit isn’t, and something tells me my girls isn’t either.

I roll out of bed, but I do plan to return.

As I’d wanted to, we stayed in bed until the sun was down. We didn’t even eat dinner, which probably isn’t the smartest idea. She came a lot, and while I kept her hydrated, we need to get actual food in us when we wake in the morning.

Tomorrow we can go for breakfast. Maybe the Waffle House. I haven’t seen one since getting out and I wonder if they are still around.

After grabbing some water and the bucket of paint, I return to her. She may as well have taken sleeping pills because as I attempt to move her, she’s completely dead weight.

Fucking Christ,I knocked her out.

As funny as that sounds, I’m happy that I did. Not for the purpose of boosting my ego, but because now I can play with her hands.

Resting beside her, I take her wrist and guide her hand over the paint. After dipping her fingers in, I get some on the bed. Oh well, we’ve got both our cum and sweat everywhere, I’m not concerned about paint.

After setting the can to the side, I take a deep breath and rest her hand over my chest. It’s in the same place she has been touching, the one I’ve allowed for her to. I keep it there, before lifting and putting her hand to my stomach.

I can’t take my eyes off her, because every time I blink, it’s not her hand I feel. Even if hers is soft, lax, and nonaggressive.

I’m coming to a slow realization that my rage comes from not the touch itself, but the fact I can’t get over it. That even after so many years, my mind can’t separate the gentle girl wanting to just do a normal thing, from my abusers.

How fucked is that?

Bringing her fingers up to my neck, I rest them there, then my cheek. Keeping my eyes on her does help, and I think it’s all because I’m in control of it that it’s manageable.

I’m unsure of how long I do this for, but as my yawns get closer together, I know I’m also ready to join her in sleep.

I need to adjust her if I’m staying here.

Resting my head onto the pillow, I shift her, which gets a grumble of displeasure, and put her back to my chest. I wrap my arms around her torso, kiss the back of her head, and hold her tightly to me.

“Night, baby girl.”

I close my eyes, breathing in the scent of her cucumber body wash, mixed with a subtle, clean fragrance that reminds me of green tea in her shampoo. It's calming—a sensation so unfamiliar to me. Yet something I wouldn't mind becoming accustomed to in my life.

27

Calista

I’veneverfoundmyselfliterally knocked out from sex before. At least not in the way that I’d love to talk about after.

I fully expected to wake up in my own bed—or at least by myself. Never did I imagine I’d be wrapped up in Ronan’s arms. His hold is tight enough that I’m actually sweating. It’s so warm, and while I usually prefer cooler temperatures when I sleep, I’d trade a winter’s night alone for a sunny day with him any time.

My smile is stretched so damn big, and I’m glad he can’t see it because I know it must look ridiculous. It almost distracts me from the ache in my lower abdomen. I’m tender in my core, with a throbbing running from my stomach down to my pussy.

Both of my arms are sandwiched under his hold on me, his entire body curved against mine and his face buried into the back of my neck. I move my hips slightly, and it’s now I can feel his hard cock slipped right between my thighs.

I was warm before, now I’m on fire.

This man never fully drifts into a deep sleep, so when I swallow, I do it as quietly as possible. He hovers right on that edge between unconscious and wide the hell awake. I figure it’s probably a habit from prison, though maybe I’m reading too much into it.

“I’m going to assume…” His grumbly voice startles me in the silence. “Your heart is racing because of my cock and not because of me holding you.”

“If I said both?”

His groan makes my heart flutter, and if his twitching cock is any indication, he likes ‘both’ as an answer.