And then his arms were around me, his hand cradling the back of my head and pressing my face into his neck.
He started rubbing my back with his other hand, heavy, firm strokes that kept pressing me harder into his body and the relief—thereliefof being held like I meant something to someone was devastating.
Something broke in me then.
Like a cord pulled taut, snapping under too much pressure.
I sobbed into Dakota’s skin. My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, squeezing and trembling as my body struggled to breathe through the awful sounds being wrenched from me. I vaguely heard Dakota’s voice as he murmured things to me, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying over my wheezing and crying. His hands were holding me together, keeping me tethered, and the flood of emotions pouring from my soul rushed away from me.
As the gut-wrenching sobs began to ease up, this lightness started to envelop me. Like my bones were made of feathers instead of bricks, like I’d expelled some nasty, heavy sludge that had built up in my body over years and years.
“It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m right here, darling. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
I finally heard what Dakota was murmuring quietly, over and over again as he stroked that firm, heavy hand up and down my back.
It made me want to break all over again.
I felt boneless and weightless in his arms, and I just wanted to curl up and go to sleep.
“Feel better?”
My nose pricked and my eyes started to water again, and I squeezed myself into him, trying to will away the tears. The sound of something ripping made me pause, and I drew away to look at the collar of his shirt.
That I’d just ripped.
When I glanced up, Dakota’s eyes were taking in every inch of my face, serious and full of concern.
“I…” I looked down at his shirt again, at my tears sliding into the hollow at the base of his throat and the light smattering of dark hair that had been revealed.
Dakota tipped his chin down to look at his shirt, then started laughing. “Why are you so strong?”
“Well—I mean, why are all your clothes made of paper?!”
“They’re definitely not, you’re just a mini Hulk.” He smirked at me, bringing his hands up to my face and wiping away the wetness. Then he pulled something out of his pocket and started dabbing my face with it.
“You just keep an endless supply of tissues in your pocket?”
“Never know when you’re gonna need a quick jerk off. Don’t worry, this one’s clean.”
“Ugh,” I said, grabbing the tissue from him and wiping my own face off.
I felt gross.
And good.
I felt so, so good.
“Feel better?” he asked again. His hands were on my thighs now, thumbs rubbing little circles just above my knees. His face was so close to mine. There was so much to look at, so many beautiful pieces that made up the whole.
I thought maybe I could stare at him for hours and never once get bored.
“Yeah,” I whispered.
Another truth.
Suddenly, I wanted to tell him all my truths.
Dakota’s eyes flitted down to my mouth and stayed there. And because I wanted to reach out and touch his face, I did. Isplayed my hand over his cheek, and his eyes slid shut as he leaned into my touch with a soft hum.
