I can only moan in answer, rocking over his erection harder, faster, a desperate race to finally get there. Praying that maybe this time my body will work the way it’s supposed to. On the cusp—so close—I increase my speed, going after it with fury, but the harder I chase, the more it feels like I’m trying to catch smoke. It keeps slipping from my reach, held hostage by something in me that’s damaged and broken.
Shaking now, but no longer from pleasure, shame tightens my throat until I’m nearly choking. My head spins, and thorny spines scratch at my skin. The frantic gasps I realize are coming from me drown out Chaz’s voice.
I yank up my robe and scramble off his lap, needing space, air—anything to stop the spiral. But the room narrows, becoming a dark cage surrounding me. I sink to the floor. A lamp comes on, spotlighting my meltdown. No one has ever witnessed me like this before. If he would just leave, I could put on my headphonesand curl up beneath my heated blanket. Instead, he’s squatting in front of me, his expression alarmed.
“Pl . . . please go.” I close my eyes, finding it unbearable to see the look on his face as he realizes what a disaster I am.
“I’m not leaving you like this,” he says gently. “What can I do?”
I shake my head. He wants to help, but even Chaz, with all his strength and comfort, can’t pull me from this place. I just need him to go.
“Lexie, look at me.”
I can’t. I can’t. The rigid facade I work so hard to maintain is rupturing, exploding from the pressure. I can’t hold it back.Go!I want to scream, but that’s not what comes out. Instead, it’s a sob—a horrible, mewling sob.
“I’m here, baby,” he murmurs and wraps me tight in his arms while a stream of tears drowns us both.
He doesn’t tell me to calm down or try to stop me, not even when the sobs shake me so violently I think I might snap. He simply holds on, stroking my hair, and lets me weep until I have nothing left.
Spent, I go limp against his chest. My face feels swollen and flushed—my throat raw. “I’m so sorry, Chaz,” I croak.
“Don’t be.”
“You must think I’m a mess.”
“Never that. I think you needed a release from all you keep pent up inside.”
He isn’t wrong. There’s a sense of—not lightness, but cleansing. I just wish I hadn’t lost it and put him in a situation I don’t know how to untangle us from.
Chaz pulls back first, meeting my puffy eyes and brushing my hair off my wet cheeks.
“How awful do I look?”
“You’re always a twelve in my books.”
“Is that out of twenty?”
“Good to see your quick wit is back.” He grins.
“Mind if I wash up and change?” I ask, cinching my robe closed in a futile attempt at modesty.
“Not at all. Take your time.” He helps me stand. “I’ll fix something to eat.”
“You don’t have to do?—”
“Lexie, go change. I’ve got this.”
“Okay. Thank you.” I head upstairs to make myself presentable. As if I can pretty up the flaws or cover my broken parts with a washed face and some blush. It’s pointless, really. He’s seen everything now—the barrier between me and pleasure. It’s like a wall of ice separating me from my sexuality.
On autopilot, I get dressed, feeling regret deep in my bones that I can’t be what he needs—what he deserves. When I come back downstairs, Chaz is at the stove, casually cracking eggs and humming like nothing’s changed. Like I hadn’t just shattered in front of him.
He glances over at me with an affectionate smile. “Hungry?”
“Yes.” I nod, amazed that I actually am.
“Good.” And instead of pressing me on how I’m feeling or talking about what happened, he asks, “How do you take your eggs?”
It’s such a simple question as if we’re just two people enjoying a quiet evening together. And maybe, at least for now, I can believe we are.
