“I’m sorry, Ben. I’m so fucking sorry,” I told him, helpless to stop my tears.
He shook beneath me, pulling me closer. “Stay with me?”
“Of course I’ll stay.”
Chapter 22: Ben
When I asked Ella to stay, I meant for a few minutes. An hour, at most. How many days had she been here with me now, in this bedroom, trapped with my grief? Three? They were mostly a blur. I’d spent a lot of that time sleeping, I think. Or so out of it that I might as well have been unconscious.
I ate when she told me to eat. Got up and into the shower when she urged me to. I even managed to help her change the sheets once or twice. My sessions with Brian were the only other points of memory over the past few days. Or was I into weeks now? How long had it been since I’d left the clinic in Boston?
Beside me, Ella shifted. It was the middle of the night; of that I was sure. Darkness bathed the room in shadows, and the only light source was the neon glow from the clock on my nightstand. It read 1:45.
I planted my hands on the bed and pushed myself up, the sheets falling to my waist as I rested my back against the padded headboard. Ella, sensing movement, rolled toward me. The clock provided just enough illumination that I saw her hand reach out as if in search of me. Her fingers brushed against the fabric of my boxers, and she sighed in her sleep and snuggled closer, snaking an arm over my lap and drapinga long leg over my own. She nuzzled her nose into the skin at my waist and sighed again, breathing deeply, her face a mask of contentedness.
I reached down and ran my fingers through her hair. How could I ever thank her for being here like this? For acting as my lifeline? Even though I’d been out of it, she’d helped. With her here, the loneliness abated. The crushing grief eased a little. Waking up to feel her beside me, to be able to roll over and curve myself around her, to have her cling to me as though she could hold me together through sheer willpower alone, had done more for me than I could have ever imagined.
Brian was right. I needed her. And not just to use as a crutch or a distraction. But was it fair to need her like this? To ask her to be with someone like me? A man who might lose himself to a debilitating disease? These thoughts left me feeling unsettled and…guilty. Like I’d still be using her, or lying to her somehow, or unworthy of her.
You are worthy,I reminded myself, the words sounding out in Brian’s voice. How many times had he told me that? How many more would it take until I actually felt like I was?
I brushed a few loose strands of hair back from Ella’s face, and she shifted again, hugging me closer.
“Mmm,” she murmured. “That feels nice.”
I clung to her words and continued to run my fingers through her hair, wanting to keep making her feel good, like I could somehow pay her back for everything she’d done for me the past few days – or was it weeks?
She turned her head toward me, eyes still closed, lips curling into a lazy smile. “I was having the best dream.”
“Yeah?” I asked, voice raw from disuse.
“Mmhmm. We were in Hawaii. It was warm. Remember what warmth is like?”
I smiled down at her. “Vaguely.”
“I miss it,” she said, snuggling closer.
The sheet fell away from her. She wore a threadbare nightgown, and the thin strap had slipped down her shoulder. Her skin was like liquid moonlight in the darkness. Her breasts pressed against my upper thigh, warm and soft. Unbidden, a swell of lust coursed through me.
I was grieving. Ella was grieving. Seeking an outlet that reminded you that you were still alive was a natural response to grief. Sex was one of the most common of those outlets. Up until this point, I’d been too out of it for sex, and this sudden raw, aching need I felt for her surprised me. I wanted to bury myself inside her and stay there forever.
I wrapped my fingers in her hair, trying and failing to corral my desire. My dick was starting to lift my boxers, and with her arm thrown over me like this, there was no way she would miss it.
A little crease formed between her brows. She turned her head up and opened her eyes. Her gaze landed on my face and then fell, slowly, to my waist. She blinked, long and slow, and then leaned closer and pressed her lips to my hip. The movement caused her tightened nipples to rub over my thigh, and the feel of them unraveled what little resistance I had left.
I gave her hair a gentle tug. “Get up here.”
She pushed herself up and swung a leg over my waist, straddling me in one fluid movement. She lowered herself slowly, so that the V of her thighs settled right over the hardening line of my dick. Her hands cupped my cheeks, angling my face up so that she could press her lips against mine. Thank fuck she’d forced me to shower and brush my teeth before we’d gone to bed.
I wrapped my fingers around her legs and gloried in the feel of muscles bunching beneath my grip, the dichotomy of their strength and the softness of the small breasts pressed against my chest.
“Thank you for being here,” I told her when she pulled away. “You didn’t have to stay so long.”
“Yes I did.”
There was so much emotion in those three words that I actually believed her.
I wrapped an arm around her waist to stabilize her, then sat up straighter, my back against the headboard. Her nightgown bunched around her thighs, and she reached down and pulled it up over her head, baring herself to me. I snaked my hands around her back and pulled her close so I could kiss her clavicle. She rested her weight against my hands, trusting me to hold her up as she arched her back, offering up her breasts, simultaneously rubbing her sex over the length of my cock.
