“These are big promises I’m expecting to be kept,” she says.
“They will be.” I brush my lips over hers. “I love you. I love you, Lana. I love you so much.”
I kiss her because she lets me, because I want to. Because I need to. Then she moans and pulls me in a bit closer. But I push until she against the slippery wall, and lift her.
Lana wraps her legs around me. “Christian.”
I kiss her and kiss her and kiss her. I kiss her cheeks and her neck, her clavicles, her breasts. I lick and suck her nipples, and when she reaches between us to wrap her hand around my dick, she strokes me slowly before she lines me up with her.
And when I push in, it just feels different.
This time, when I’m inside of her, it feels… scary. Like I know I might lose her so I have to take my time. And I do. I hold her to me tightly so she doesn’t slip but I hate this. This isn’t something for a shower wall. So I turn off the water and take us out of it.
I lay her down on our bed and her moan is breathy and quiet when I’m on top of her. And for a moment, it feels okay—we feel okay.Ifeel okay, but I know I’m not. So I just stretch out this moment, drown in her, and tell myself we’re okay. That I’m okay. And I’ll get better.
CHAPTER 13
Lana
Almost a month since…the incident.And two weeks since he’s made me that beautiful garden—something I didn’t realize was missing in my home.
Since then, the flowers in the vase have been replaced twice. Sunflowers every time, but with different flowers paired around them. The notes are different each time too. On Monday, his note was:
You’re prettier than all the flowers,
I love you
On Wednesday, his note was:
Do you like me?
Yesor No
Circle one
I think each time it either gets cornier or cuter, I have yet to decide. Either way, on Wednesday, I circled yes and drew a tiny heart. Then I watched him open the tiny card and smile before he put it in his pocket.
Those flowers are my new favorite things. I wait for them every other day and look forward to seeing how they brighten my kitchen. He waits for me on those days—he sits on the sectional in the seating area across the kitchen and watches me as I find the flowers.
And today is Saturday—it’s flower day. Christian is going to be waiting for me again in his sports shorts and t-shirt before he goes to the gym or for a run.
So I get out of my bed with a smile on my face, trying to wipe it off before I walk out of my bedroom because they’re just flowers, right? I’ve been trying to rationalize that to myself for the past two weeks. Even between the conversations and the step arounds. Even between the touches around touches and the looks that say more than we’ve been saying to each other.
Yawning and scratching the top of my head only to find a giant knot in my hair, I make my way downstairs. I force the muscles to remain stiff and still as I rest the last step and turn around for the kitchen.
Sure enough, Christian is sitting back in his gym clothes and watchingThe Officeon the TV, laughing to himself. But then his gorgeous laugh fades when he turns toward me, his eyes moving up and down then back up to my face. He half-smiles.
“Hi,” I breathe.
“Hi.”
I shift on my feet, toying with the hem on one of his old t-shirts that now belongs to me. An old, washed out, dark grayNirvana shirt and loose boxers I also stole from him. “Um, good morning.”
The half smile becomes a full smile. “Good morning, baby.”
I nod, swallow, and find the flowers. Sunflowers with blue delphinium, yellow daisy poms, green button poms, and purple statice, accented with assorted greenery. Miss Violet might have taught me a thing or two.
I look over at him, and he’s watching my face. My cheeks hurt from the smile that grew while I wasn’t paying attention and I can’t care.
