Chapter 53.0
1823 Words
Silence...
My heart sinks.
Why do I feel bad for upsetting him?
“Why do you act like this?” I ask him.
“I don’t know...,” he whispers. “It’s like... my feelings for you bring out the darkest part of my personality.”
What?
What do you even say to that?
“You said you were trying to get better?” I eventually ask.
“I am,” he says hopefully. “I go twice a week, and Aaron says I’m making progress.”
“Aaron?”
“The psychologist.”
“Making progress with what?”
He hesitates...
“Hen.” I look him square in the eye. “Now is the time for honesty,” I say softly. “You at least owe me that.”
He nods. “I...” He licks his bottom lip. “I know.” He wrings his hands nervously on his lap. “The thing is... and there is no easy way to say this, but... I’m f****d up.”
No s**t, Sherlock.
“How so?”
He continues to twist his hands together on his lap...
“Hen?”
“Well, I always thought I was like this because I hadn’t found the right woman and I’m happy on my own. It’s never bothered me.”
Where is this going?
“Right...”
“But then I met you, and I wanted more, but...” His voice trails off.
“But what?”
“But I couldn’t do it.”
“Do what?”
“Commit to a relationship.”
I frown. “But you committed to a friends-with-benefits situation with no problem.”
“I did.” He takes my hand in his. “Because it killed two birds with one stone.”
“What birds?”
“I got to spend time with you without weirding out.”
“Weirding out?” I repeat.
He shrugs, embarrassed. “I’m totally f*****g weird. Don’t worry, I am well aware.”
I fight to hide my smile. You got that right.
“What does your psychologist say about this?”
“Aaron thinks that my mind is trying to protect me, so it blocks my emotions.”
I frown, not understanding. “Why?”
“I don’t understand it myself.”
“So you don’t have any emotions?”
“No, I do.” He shrugs. “With you, I do.”
“And what are those emotions?” I ask.
He frowns as if perplexed. “Love is a strong word.”
“It is.”
“So...” He pauses as if choosing his words very carefully. “You say you loved me.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What does that feel like?”
“What?”
“If you love someone, what does it feel like?” He continues. “I mean, when do you get that light bulb I’m-in-love moment?”
I smile at his immaturity on this subject. “It’s not one light bulb moment. It’s a million little things.”
His eyes hold mine as he listens.
“It’s looking forward to seeing someone. It’s thinking about them all day. It’s missing them when they go home, even though you’ve just seen them all night. It’s laughing and conversations and s****l attraction, and most of all it’s a sense of belonging to that person.”
“Belonging to that person?”
“Like you don’t want to sleep with anyone else, you only want one person, and nobody else will do. The thought of giving your body to someone else is sickening.”
He nods as if finally understanding.
I wait for him to elaborate on the subject, but he remains silent.
“Well?” I ask. “Any of that sound familiar?”
He swallows the lump in his throat as if bracing himself for the worst thing possible. “Maybe... I do... somehow—I mean, I don’t know, but I think I... love you.” He stares at the ground, unable to make eye contact.
Empathy fills me at his botched-up declaration of love.
“And that’s a bad thing?” I whisper.
“No, I think it’s a... good thing.” He rolls his lips. “It’s just brought up a lot of baggage for me.”
“What kind of baggage?”
He hesitates before answering. “I struggle with intimacy.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
But he does know.
“What does Aaron say the reason is?”
He stares at me as if processing the question. “That I won’t rely on anyone as a form of protection.”
“Protection from what?”
“If you leave me.”
Oh...
My heart...
“Hen,” I whisper softly.
“But I don’t think that’s true. I mean... big deal. My mother died. A million people’s mothers die every day, and they don’t walk around f****d up like this.”
“Henley, on our first date you told me that your mother dying was a catastrophic event in your life.” I squeeze his hand in mine. “Don’t play it down. Grief affects everyone differently. You were at a very vulnerable age when she died.”
His eyes fill with tears as he stares at a spot on the carpet, unable to bring himself to look at me.
He is f****d up.
“So...” I frown as I try to work out where we go from here. “What do you want to happen now?”
“I want to be with you,” he replies without hesitation. “In a...” He swallows again.
I cut him off. “Relationship?”
He nods. “I want to try.”
Silence...
Still not a commitment... but maybe a promise.
I know I shouldn’t, but I see him, the beautiful man I fell for, lost as he tries to navigate the world. Henley is a good man, deep down. I’ve always known that. He doesn’t want to live like this. He’s had no other option.
I cup his face in my hand. “On one condition.”
“Anything.”
“You be honest with me from here on in.”
His eyes search mine.
“I need to know what’s going on in your head, or we won’t make it, Hen.”
A trace of a smile crosses his face as he takes my hand in his.
I smile, too, and in that moment, I know it’s going to be okay between us.
“Kiss me,” I whisper. He leans over and kisses me. His face screws up against mine as if overwhelmed with emotion.
My beautiful, tortured king, so messed up.
So f*****g lovable.
An ocean of vulnerability swimming between us.
“Henley.” I put my hand under his chin and bring his face to mine. “We can do this.”
He closes his eyes as if to block me out.
“Hen,” I demand. “Open your eyes and look at me.”
He drags his eyes open.
“Love me back,” I whisper. “Like I know you can.” I kiss him softly. My tongue gently swipes through his open lips, and I kiss him again. “I just need you to always be honest with me. If something is bothering you, just tell me.”
His kiss deepens, and then, as if remembering something, he pulls back to look at me. “Are we starting the honesty thing right now?”
I nod. “Uh-huh.”
“Then take it off.”
“What?” I frown.
“The makeup that you put on for him.”
It bothers him that I’m all dressed up to go on a date with another man.
I would be too.
“You mean the makeup I put on while I was thinking of you?” I smile softly.
He points upstairs. “Wash it off. All of it.”
“I’m going to need to take a shower.”
“Probably.” He narrows his eyes as he acts serious.
Excitement rushes through my veins. “You’re going to need to get in with me to help.”
“Definitely.”
We stare at each other, excitement buzzing between us, the air crackling with promise.
“I’m going to f**k you so good that you don’t remember your name.” He bends and, in one swift movement, picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. I laugh as we take the stairs.
His step falters halfway up.
“You regretting this decision to carry me now, Mr. Strong?” I smile as I hang upside down with my hands on his behind.
“Little bit,” he puffs.
I laugh out loud, and he slaps me on the behind. “No talking.”
“I’m laughing.”
He slaps me again. “No laughing either.”
We get to the bathroom, and he slides me down his body. We fall silent as we stare at each other.
And this is it, the beginning of us, the real beginning.
At least I hope it is. It better f*****g be.
He takes my dress off over my shoulders and throws it to the side. He undoes my bra and then slides my panties down my legs. His eyes drop and linger on my naked body, and I want to please him so badly. Do everything I can to make it up to him, because I hate that I have makeup on for another man too.
I pull his T-shirt off over his head and then slide down the zipper on his jeans. I’m blessed with the sight of his large c**k as it springs free.
Then all control is lost. He pulls me in, under the water, and we kiss like long-lost lovers.
Because that’s how it feels.
The last six weeks have been a living hell without him in my arms.
He pins me to the wall, and as we kiss, his body instinctively slides deep into mine. We both moan deeply as arousal takes over.
I thought the first time we did this it was going to be this big mad foreplay session with all the bells and whistles... but every time with Henley is all the bells and whistles.
“I love you,” I whisper.
He smiles against my lips and pumps me deeper. “You f*****g better.” I laugh, loud and free, and he does too.
We’re back, baby...
We lie in silence. Exhausted doesn’t come close. We made love in the shower, all tender and sweet, and then we f****d like animals as he showed me exactly who I belong to.
It’s him. It’s always been him...
“It’s the little things,” he whispers as we stare up at the ceiling.
I look over to him in surprise.
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