The pleasure I get from kissing Keaton causes one hell of a fight to keep my eyes open. There’s something a bit more vulnerable about kissing someone without closing them. Also, a tiny bit awkward. But it allows me to see the desire and love that Keaton has for me.
I deepen the kiss, losing myself in him for a bit longer. When my body temperature rises, and I grow slick with arousal, I slowly pull away. It’s getting harder and harder to not rip his clothes off. My hunger for him grows every day until just looking at him sends my body into a needy mess.
Am I ready? I think so, but I’ll never be sure until we get there. Until we’re in that moment. I want to say I’m healed enough that I won’t be triggered, but I’ve been too terrified to let us move further in fear of learning I’m not.
“I love you, Charlie.”
I hum, this time wanting to give him something, a bit more than I have been. So, when I’m peering up into his eyes, I murmur, “Ditto, dragon boy.”
The happiness lighting up his eyes nearly knocks me off my feet, chasing away every shadow that lingered before our kiss. His joy is magnetic, and I can’t resist tracing my fingers over his face.
A simple response to his love is all it takes to observe something so magnificent.
Maybe words don’t always wound, but tonight I’ve seen how powerfully they can heal.
***
Since Rianna slashed my tires two weeks ago, Keaton’s been in full-on protector mode. I’m never alone. He, Amelia, and his friends rotate shifts like a team of bodyguards. Sometimes it feels like I can’t move without tripping over one of them, but I get it. The police warned us to stay vigilant, especially after finding ‘Die, bitch’ carved into my car.
“Of course, he had to choose a bunny boiler to cheat on me with,” I mutter, slamming the pantry door after not finding anything to throw together for supper.
I snatch my keys from the counter and stomp toward the front door, determined to make a solo grocery run. Let her try something. I’m not a fan of violence, but right now, I’d throw down just for five minutes of peace.
“Where are you going?” Keaton asks, rubbing a towel over his damp head.
“Could you put a fucking shirt on?” I snap, watching the droplet of water slide down his chest. “You look really hot right now, and my brain is glitching.”
He moves the towel down to his chest, taking his sweet ol’ time rubbing across his skin to soak up any droplets.
How is it possible that just drying off can look so damn sexy?
“What are you doing, Charlie?” he murmurs, stepping closer.
“Huh?” My tongue flicks out to moisten my suddenly dry lips.
Keaton twirls the towel in both of his hands until it’s a tight roll. Then he puts it behind me and uses it to pull me closer. My palms smack against his warm chest, and I let out a moan.
“I asked what you were doing.”
“Probably you,” I mumble without thinking.
No. Bad, Charlie.
“Is that so?”
Yes.
“No.”
When did his skin get so soft?
The barbell through his nipple draws my attention, and my hand drifts towards it, but before I can make contact, Keaton catches it in his.
“Were you about to leave without letting me know?” he asks.
His question snaps me out of my lust-fueled haze. I shake my head, trying to clear the heat from my thoughts, and take a step back.
Frustration mounts in me again, and my top lip curls back. “We have no food. I’m going to the store.”
