by James, Ella
I catch myself watching Kellan’s face as Mallorie explains how the only real treatment the guy can get is experimental, and not legal in America. I swear, I think he loses a little color in his cheeks. When, as we move down the little hall between two rooms, Cleo catches Kellan’s hand and squeezes, I feel almost sure that I was right.
He probably has PTSD from having cancer. Damn, that sucks. As we walk back toward the front door, Barrett warms an arm around me. He strokes my arm and gives me a quizzical look.
I smile. “I love this place,” I murmur.
His brows arch, and he nods. The walls already have mirrors and the floors are covered with those foamy mats whose vinyl scent takes me back to the Taekwondo studio where Rett and I learned. They only major thing we—Barrett, really—might want to do is busting out two walls to make the two rooms in the front of the space into one giant room.
Barrett drives us home: to his home, and as Kellan opens the front passenger side Bear leans into the back seat where Cleo and I are sitting. “Be right back,” he tells me quietly. “Just going to let them in.”
The three of them go up the stairs, and I wait, feeling slightly awkward and admiring Kellan’s car, which smells phenomenally new car-ish.
Cleo and Kellan disappear through Barrett’s front door, and I watch Barrett descend the stairs. I can see him smiling toward me even though I know he can’t see me through the windows’ heavy tinting. Still, I smile back.
I’m still smiling when he opens my door. “Over the river and through the woods?” he asks, nodding back toward my house. He gives me a little smile that makes a flock of birds swoop through my stomach.
“Sure.” We fall into step beside each other, weaving between pines and through the crackling leaves. “So are they leaving?”
“I invited them for dinner. At my house if that’s better.”
I shove him. “Psshh. My house. You and me, Bear. We’ll make something good for them. Are they just taking some alone time at the moment?”
He nods. “Kelly’s tired.”
“So what’s it like with him? Is he like…done with everything or…?”
“He takes some maintenance medicines, I think. Most of it for his heart.”
“His heart?”
Barrett holds a branch back for me, nodding.
“He has some damage from the chemo.”
“Really? He seems…so healthy.” I shake my head and laugh unhappily. “That’s a stupid thing to say, I guess.”
“No.” His hand brushes my lower back as the wind blows a strand of hair into my face. “He’s doing pretty well. And his heart is healing up, they think.”
“Still.” I exhale slowly. “That’s just… I hate that.”
“Because you have a soft heart.”
“INFJ Advocate here,” I say, in an exaggerated, Valley Girl voice.
Instead of chuckling like I think he will, Barrett leans over and brushes his lips across my forehead, then surprises me by wrapping an arm around me, pulling me back against him so I’m stopped there in the woods. His mouth finds my neck. He kisses up behind my ear, making me shiver as I latch onto his arm, around my waist.
He kisses my throat until my knees are shaking and I feel all warm and needy. Then he comes around in front of me and takes my face in his hands.
“They liked you, like I told you they would.”
His lips meet mine for a soft kiss.
His big hands stroke my hair out of my face. His gaze holds mine. I can feel him wanting to say something…but he doesn’t. Barrett just keeps kissing me until I’m clinging to him, and he picks me up and carries me to my door, to my room, and to the bed. There, he pulls my leggings down, spreads me gently, and feasts like I’m a succulent dessert and he’s starving.
When I come around again and open my eyes, I find Barrett’s are dark with lust, his long cock tenting his jeans.
Holy hell, I want him.
I lower my legs, so they’re hugging his sides, and stroke my hands up his triceps. “Come here,” I murmur. He crawls up my thighs, straddling me… stroking my hips and looking down on me with lust-dazed eyes.
“You’re so beautiful,” he rasps.
“You are…” I sit up a little, going for his fly. Barrett watches, hooking his thumbs at the waist of his pants; then, as I unzip the jeans, he shuts his eyes and drags his hand down, cupping his bulge.
“That’s so hot,” I whisper, working his jeans down his hips, so I can see the outline of him through his navy boxer briefs. I stroke him through the cotton. Barrett groans. I slide my palm up the inside of his thigh, stroking his warm skin, then delving into the leg of the briefs so I can cup his balls.
His hips jerk. “Gwen…”
His big hand covers my head. The sounds he makes as I peel the boxer-briefs down and catch his head in my mouth are raw enough to make me throb.
I lick him a few times, all around the rim of him and underneath his head. I run a hand along his shaft, and his eyes open.
“I need you.”
I rise up and kiss his mouth hard. “Me too,” I murmur.
I spread my legs and Barrett lowers himself over me. “God…the way that looks,” I murmur as he lines up at my center. He runs his fingers up and down my slit, then brings them to his mouth, shutting his eyes as he sucks.
With his head pressed against my slickness, he rolls his hips. I lift my own to meet him. With his eyes on mine, he thrusts in. I grunt, and then moan as he fills me. He strokes my arm as he pulls out, then exhales, pushes in.
“So good… Oh, Gwen…”
I feel him swell as he picks up the pace. I love watching his gorgeous features grow so tight and strained. He swells some more inside me, and I widen my legs. Barrett reaches down and strokes my pussy, holds himself still. I look into his heavy-lidded eyes.
“You feel so fucking good. So tight.” His eyelids sag shut as his fingers work my clit. I pant, lifting my hips.
I look up to see him watching my face.
“Gwen.”
“I love this.”
That’s the last thing he says before I clench around him and he comes undone. He sinks down on me; we roll onto our sides, facing one another, kissing until I laugh, and he groans.
“I don’t want to leave.” It takes me a moment to realize the tip of him is still inside me. He slides out, leaving me swollen and sore.
“I could go all day like that.” My voice is husky, and I’m smiling slightly. I can’t help myself.
Barrett pulls me to him. The way his arms settle around me… I feel closer to him than I ever have. Maybe closer than I ever have to anyone.
I stroke his hair and cheek, and I can feel his body relax. I wrap my arm under his and nuzzle closer. “Sleepy?”
“Yeah.” His voice is gravelly. His eyelids sag as he gives me a rueful smile. “You’re wearing me out.”
I smile. “Good. That’s been my secret plan.” I stroke the smooth skin over his ribcage. “If you fall asleep, I’ll lie here and read.”
“Kelly might text.”
“I’ll check your phone if you want.”
“’S okay.” His lips brush my forehead as his eyes shut.
“Bear?”
His eyelids lift; his mouth curls. “Mmm.” Even when he’s half asleep, he looks at me with warmth.
“I’m glad I met you,” I rasp.
Tears well in my eyes. I hope he won’t notice, but I know he has when he pushes up on his elbow. I blink to see his features tight with worry.
“What’s the matter?”
I think I love you. I shake my head, covering my face with my hand as I tell myself to stop. It doesn’t really work.
“What’s wrong?” His voice is low and soft as velvet. I feel his hands on my hair, stroking firmly, somewhat frantically. “Talk to me, Piglet.”
But I can’t. I don’t even know what I feel. What to say…
He draws me closer, his big body drawing up around mine. He holds me tight in his stron
g arms and strokes my back—and I cry. Because I’m happy now? Because I was sad before? Finally I get a handle on myself and look up at him. I’m surprised to find his heavy brows are pinched together; his whole face looks troubled: anguished, almost.
He just looks at me with hurt on his face—my hurt. His face is such a…mirror, my eyes fill with tears again. His lips, pressed together, soften just a little. His finger traces my jaw.
“I’m embarrassed.” I wipe my eyes, laughing soundlessly.
“No.” He kisses my wet cheek. “Never with me.”
And God, it’s like a freaking vow. I swear, I feel the kindness and sincerity like they’re some white light pouring from his heart and over me.
His kind face and his tender hands… They’re…so much more. Everything with him is so much more.
I think of Elvie. More tears drip. He didn’t come to me. He never came after the accident. I wasn’t enough. I wasn’t good enough. I don’t even know what— but I wasn’t. Since then, I think I just concluded he was right.
I don’t know I’m shaking until I see Barrett’s eyes widen, and his hand squeezes my shoulder.
“Gwenna?” For a moment, he looks frightened.
I blink; more tears fall. “I’m okay. I’m sorry. I’ve— always been a shaker. I used to shiver during hide and seek in preschool.”
“Oh, Piglet.” He pulls me closer, so my breasts are mashed against his chest and his thick arms are locked around me. “That’s adorable,” he says softly. “And sad as fuck.” He pulls the covers over me and holds me so close, I can hear his heartbeat, feel his body heat.
His hands run up and down my back, moving in circles. “What’s got you shaken up, Gwennie?”
I swallow. My face is tucked against his neck, and I don’t want to look at him. More tears drip down my cheeks.
“I read this quote somewhere,” I rasp. His arm tightens around me. “It says something like, ‘Tell me they were wrong for leaving.’”
“They were wrong,” he says.
Which prompts another little shiver.
“Fuck, this rips me up, Pig.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” His lips find my forehead, brushing over my brow. “It’s cute, too. Sad and fucking sweet. Like Piglet from Pooh Bear.”
I laugh for just a second, and I almost ask him if he watched a lot of Pooh. Instead I hear myself say, “Elvie never came to see me.”
“What?”
“In rehab.” My voice cracks.
“What do you mean?”
“In the hospital I said he couldn’t, then he went to Spain. He didn’t want me,” I whisper. I swallow back more tears, and Barrett’s hand cups my face. His eyes bore into mine, gentle and guiding.
“He’s an idiot. He was wrong. I swear, Gwen.”
“I think he was nervous or something. I don’t know.”
Barrett’s body tenses. “That’s bullshit.” His arms tighten around me. “No. He was a coward. Not you. Him. A fucking crazy little coward.”
He takes my face gently in his big hands and tilts it back, so he can see my leaking eyes.
“You hear what I’m saying? He. Was. Wrong. That’s all there is to that. Trust me.”
I bite my lip and try to nod, and cry as I do.
“I didn’t know I was upset still.”
His jaw tightens. “Of course you were. Who wouldn’t be?” he asks in a rough whisper. “He’s a fucking fool. Believe me there.”
I nod, and find the nerve to wrap an arm around his lean waist. “Thanks.”
I’m still crying. His arms tighten around me.
“No thanks needed, Piglet. Just speaking the truth.”
* * *
I decide, sometime after we kiss, and Barrett strokes my back and arms and shoulders, and I lace one leg through both of his and he drifts off to sleep, that Barrett is my angel.
Where he came from— What he did before now— Doesn’t matter. It will never, ever matter to me.
I love him. I love him, and he’s mine, and I’ll do anything for him. Be it rational or stupid, sensible or foolish…
I would fight for him. I think I’d help him hide a body.
As I lie beside with him, I feel stronger. Healthier. I feel like a superhero, my wounds healing just from being pressed against him, being near his magic. Just from breathing his soft breath and feeling his warm skin, I’m getting better.
This man is the other half of my heart. I didn’t even know that I was missing it—but now I’ve found it. I feel like it’s beating for the first time ever.
SEVEN
Gwenna
I could get up while he sleeps, but I stay beside him. His big body is warm and comforting against mine and I relish the smell of him. I like to listen to his breathing. When he’s sleeping, I feel like his protector. The one time his brow rumples, I kiss his cheek, and he tightens his grip on me.
Holding him like this is pure joy, a sensation stronger than I’ve ever felt.
My mind swims with images of Kellan and Cleo. The sly, sweet way he looked sideways at her and took her hand when she said the bit about wanting to marry Barrett and I off to each other. I think about her reaching for his hand in the hallway of the studio. I think of Barrett reaching for my hand in the car. Mutual affection. Even as I feel Barrett’s heart beat against mine, it’s hard to believe this is real. After Elvie… I blink against the blurriness in my eyes.
I was a model, and even then I wasn’t enough for Elvie. How is it that I’m enough for Barrett—the me that I am now?
Is it because he’s desperate? My chest aches at the thought, but I can’t deny how lost he was… how lonely. I know him more now, think I can see him clearly now. His head thrown back as he laughs at me. His radiant grin as he pulls me against him on the couch. The notch between his eyebrows as he watches football, one fist drawn up in support of his team’s efforts. But because I watch, I also see the way he’ll be standing somewhere, sometimes, and his face will bleach out. I notice when he reaches out and touches his fingertips to the nearest piece of furniture. The dizzy-looking blinks when he thinks I’m not watching. And of course, I know his haunting dreams. Who could blame him for latching onto the first person he finds?
I try to tell myself we like the same TV shows. We have amazing sex. We like cooking, the woods, the bears, and motorcycles. Martial arts.
More so than that, I feel it. I feel this between us, and it’s good. I know it’s good.
But…God. He’s spent ten years in war zones. What if, after being home a while, he wakes up one day and feels differently? What if his needs change? That’s part of what went wrong with Elvie. As his ego grew, he needed a girlfriend who could double as a fangirl. I was never that.
I hear Bear’s hoarse “mmm” about the time I feel his finger stroke along my eyebrow. “Gwen?”
His voice is dry. His lids are heavy. “You okay?”
He’s so, so handsome; I can’t help the smile I give in answer.
“I’m okay.” I kiss his cheek. “You woke up fast.”
He gives me a crooked smile. “Missed you.”
His big, rough hands smooth down my belly, stroking my waist, as we kiss until I have to pull away to breathe, and then his hand strokes down toward my pussy.
“So perfect,” he rasps as he slides a finger in.
I clench around it.
“Fucking God…” He finds my breast and starts to suckle at it.
“Someone woke up horny.” I giggle.
“The way you smell…” He inhales deeply, and I wrap an arm around his head.
“My Bear…”
We find ourselves in the classic “69” pose. Barrett tortures me with his soft, hot mouth and wicked fingers. In return, I take him deep into my throat and tease his balls until he’s blowing hot breaths on my swollen pussy; he’s got a finger hooked inside me, but his tongue can barely move. For my part, I’m shaking, collapsed on his face because my legs can’t hold me. As his breaths pick
up, I start to throb harder.
Our groans mingle in the soft, still air until my body draws up and I start to spasm hard around his fingers. At that moment, his cock throbs.
“Ahh…”
I love the way his hips shake and his hands squeeze my thighs. I suck until he’s finished and let him rest inside my mouth for a moment before I draw off. I love the dazed look on his face as I look over my shoulder.
“Lie beside me.” He holds his arm out, and I snuggle in.
* * *
Barrett and I get dressed and start on eggplant parmesan. We fill the kitchen with our smiles and laughter, and then Cleo and Kellan show up, and they help us. Someone opens two bottles of pinot noir, and we wind up eating around the counter. Finally I shoo them to the table, where we talk until we’re all old friends, and then we move into the den and play Cards Against Humanity. Somehow it’s midnight; Cleo and I are braiding Barrett’s hair, and Kellan, in my armchair, looks half asleep. After Barrett extricates himself from us, I show Cleo my scar, and she “ohhh”s, and Barrett says he’ll go next door to get the place ready for them to spend the night.
“You don’t need to,” Cleo tries to tell him, but he waves her off. “No prob,” he murmurs, and I watch him get his jacket on and slip into his boots. He looks kind of drunk, and very handsome.
“Be back in a few,” he says, and with one final glance at Kellan, zonked out in the chair, and one soft-eyed look at me, he goes.
I get my fleece blanket and lay it over Kellan’s long body. Cleo steps over to the chair and drapes herself along its puffy arm, curling herself around Kellan’s upper body without actually touching him.
“You guys are so phenomenal together.”
She smiles, and I look at Kellan, then back to her. “Is he going to be okay?” I ask softly. I only ask because I’ve been drinking. Maybe that’s why she answers.
“Yeah. I mean, I hope.” Her eyes gleam, and she touches her forehead to his shoulder. “I love him. He’s mine…and I could never…” She lifts her head off him and shakes it once. She inhales deeply, and I step over and hug her. It’s a drunk sort of hug: an awkward head pat. But I mean it.
