“But how can I discuss something I’m not positive ever happened? I just assume it did because of how I feel inside and through bits and pieces of the memories I can remember.”
“We don’t have to discuss the details. We can just discuss your feelings.” He grabs his pen and paper again and scribbles down some notes. “I think that’s something we’ll work on in your next session. In the meantime, I’m going to teach you some relaxation exercises to help calm yourself down when you’re having a panic attack.”
“I wish it were that easy, because I want her to be able to touch me, but I just don’t see it working.” I nervously crack my knuckles. “I always panic whenever things get too far.”
“It’ll take some time, but I have all the confidence that you’ll eventually get to a place in your life where you’ll be able to handle physical contact. Do you want to know why?” he asks, and I nod. “Because you want to get better. I can tell. And wanting to overcome something is the first step to getting there.”
I hope he’s right. God, do I hope. But until I see proof, I won’t be able to believe it.
“What about my memories? I don’t want to stop doing the therapy.” Don’t want to give up on Sadie.
“We’re not stopping,” he promises. “We’re just taking a short break and giving your mind some time to settle.”
I curl my fingers in and stab my nails into my palm as guilt crashes through me.
Sadie, I’m so sorry.
Sorry, sorry, sorry.
Sorry I can’t find you,
Sorry I’ve forgotten,
Sorry you have to suffer.
If I could, I’d take your place.
God, how I wish it were me instead of her.
What I wouldn’t give to make that happen.
“I LOVE THE SMELL OF spring,” I declare as I inhale the delicious scent of the air. “It always makes me smile.”
“Everything makes you smile.” Ayden hands me a rag with a hint of a grin on his face.
It’s been a week since he sleepwalked, and for the most part, he seems to be okay. I’d put money on it, though, that he still feels guilty about the ordeal. Guilty because he worried everyone. Guilty because he freaked me out. My dear, shy boy, always worrying about everyone except himself. I wish I could talk to him about it without upsetting him, but after seeing him cry, I worry mentioning anything will trigger a nerve.
His parents—who I call Uncle Ethan and Aunt Lila, even though we’re not related—must have had the same thought process as me, because they seem pretty hush, hush about what happened.
“That’s not true.” I collect the rag from him and duck my head under the hood of my 1970 Dodge Challenger. My dad and I have been working on fixing it up since December, and I’m hoping to have it drivable soon. “Bugs don’t make me smile. Or frowny faces.”
He snorts a laugh. “Frowny faces? Only you would say frowns don’t make you smile.”
“That’s because I’m that awesome.” I pull the dipstick out and wipe it off with the rag before dipping it back inside the oil.
“That, you are,” he remarks, moving up behind me.
“And don’t ever forget that, my friend.” I remove the dipstick, glance at the oil level, then put the stick back in. Wiping my hand off with a rag, I step back from the car. “It looks like it might—” My back bumps into Ayden.
He hardly ever instigates contact first, expect on rare, amazing, wonder-filled occasions, so I allow myself to enjoy the earth-shattering moment and breathe in the feel of his body heat.
I smile stupidly when he doesn’t move away. “Whatcha doing?”
“Nothing.” His voice is uneven, revealing his nerves. “I was just . . .” He releases a breath then places his hands on my hips. Surprisingly, his fingers are steady. “I just wanted to touch you.” He rests his forehead against the back of my head and inhales deeply. “And to make sure you’re okay.”
“Okay about what?” My eyelids drift shut as I lean into his touch.
His simple touches are better than light.
They awaken my body and bring it to life.
More. More. More, my body is craving.
The addiction is potent, consuming, aching.
Leaves my body wanting, pleading, shaking.
Sometimes I feel like I’m withering, fading.
Fading. Fading. Fading.
Into him.
“About . . . about what happened the other day . . . when I sleepwalked.” His fingers grasp onto me, and his chest crashes against my back as his shallow breaths turn ragged. “I know I probably freaked you out. I’ve been meaning to ask you about it, but I didn’t want to upset you, so I decided to wait until stuff cooled off.”
“I’m not upset about what happened.” And not surprised one little bit that my theory about him was right. I turn around and loop my arms around him. “I’m just worried about you and how you’re handling it.”
“I’m fine,” he swears, searching my eyes for my true feelings. He forgets, though, that I’m like an open book. “It’s not anything I haven’t dealt with before. But you . . . What did I say to you exactly while I was asleep?”
“Nothing I could really understand.”
“Are you sure? Because, if I said anything weird . . . Then I want to know.”
“The whole situation is a little strange,” I admit. “You were completely out of it, yet you were standing there, talking and . . . crying.”
“I cried?” His mouth curves to a frown. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I did that in front of you.”
“Stop worrying.” I lure him closer to me with a jerk, the movement rougher than I intended. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You sleepwalk. So what? We all have our weird, little quirks.”
He cracks a small, adorable smile. “And what are your weird, little quirks?”
“Um, hello, isn’t that kind of obvious? I’m always as freaking cheery and sparkly as the sun is on crack, trying to spin everything and everyone into sugar and rainbows with my smile. Albeit, it’s an adorable smile.” I flash him my pearly whites. “I bet it’s kind of blinding and gets a little tiring to deal with all the time, though.”
“It’ll never get tiring.” His mood shifts as his gaze drops to my lips. “And your smile’s beautiful.”
I have to take a moment to catch my breath; otherwise, my voice will wobble like mad-crazy. “You can kiss me if you want.”
“Can I?” He tries to tease, but his voice comes out raspy.
Leaning in, he places his lips against mine, giving me a featherlike kiss.
“That’s it?” I jut out my lip when he pulls away.
Sucking in a few calculated breaths, his hands glide around my back, and he fumbles with the hem of my tank top. “It’s getting late, and your parents will be coming home soon. I don’t want them to find us making out in the garage.” When I crinkle my nose, he adds, “Lila and Ethan aren’t going to be home for a while, though, so . . .”
“So, what?” I play dumb and totally get rewarded when he blushes.
“I thought we could, you know . . .” He lifts one hand to nervously massage the back of his neck. “Go up to my room for a while, and”—his blush deepens—“continue kissing.”
I choke on a giggle. “I knew what you meant from the beginning, but it was fun watching you get all weirded out.”
He jokingly scowls at me. “That was kind of mean.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s a good thing you love me.” I instantly want to kick myself for dropping the L-bomb. I know the word makes him squeamish.
He stares at me, his expression unreadable, as silences encompasses us.
“So, yeah, let’s go inside,” I say awkwardly after a soundless moment goes by.
Not saying anything, he laces our fingers together and steers me out of the garage, down my driveway, and toward his house. He pauses when we’re about to walk inside and suddenly looks down at the end of the driveway.
I track his gaze to Mi
ss Finkleson, our neighbor across the street, watering her garden in her bathrobe. “What are you looking at?”
“Making sure my . . . babysitter isn’t around.” He tensely massages his neck.
“Babysitter? Dude, what are you talking about?” I squint at his expression. “Did you get high with Sage today?”
“No.” He sighs, his hand falling to his side. “Because of everything going on, an undercover detective has been following me to make sure I’m safe. I didn’t know it, though, and got caught going somewhere. Lila made it seem like, because I fucked up, I was going to be watched all the time, but I haven’t noticed the car around for the last couple of hours.”
“What were you doing?” I wonder. “When you got caught?”
He pulls an oh-I’m-so-busted expression. “Hanging out in front of that house Sadie last lived at. Figures the day I decide to go inside is the day they followed me. Lila was really fucking pissed off at me.”
He went into that house?
A detective is following him?
To keep him safe?
I bite down on my lip hard as reality crushes down on me and causes my eyes to water up.
“Lyric, what’s wrong?” He lowers his face closer to mine, searching my eyes. “Are you . . . ? Are you crying?”
“No,” I lie, sucking back the waterworks. “I’m almost crying.”
“Almost crying?” He frowns. “What’d I say that upset you?”
“It’s not what you said. It’s what you didn’t say, which I know is a really cliché girlfriend thing to whine about.” I blink up at the sunlight filtering through the sky, only because I can’t look him in the eye at the moment. “I hate that you keep stuff from me. You going to that house is like the Internet hacker all over again.”
“No, it’s not.” He cups my face between his hands, forcing me to look at him. “I didn’t tell you about this, because I was still trying to figure out for myself why the hell I felt the need to go there all the time.” He smooths his hands down my cheeks, down my neck and shoulders, leaving a trail of heat all the way to my waist. “I realized I was searching for something I’d never really find, so I won’t be going back.”
“Good. You should have never gone there by yourself, ever. Not with all this stuff going on. It’s too dangerous.”
“I couldn’t go back even if I wanted to. Not when that detective is keeping an eye on me.” He contemplates something. “It was weird, though. While I was there, a woman came up to me and told me it wasn’t safe for me to be there. But it was raining, and she had the hood of her coat pulled up so I couldn’t see her face.”
“That’s strange,” I agree, trying not to go all crazy-girlfriend on him. But he has me incredibly worried that he’s going to do something stupid. “Did you tell Lila about her?”
“Yeah, she called Detective Rannali, and he said he’d look into it, but I guess the area where the house is has a high crime rate, especially with drugs, and he seems pretty convinced the woman was just warning me to get the hell out of the area.”
I step closer, eliminating the space between us. “Ayden, promise me, the next time you’re going to try something questionable, you’ll tell me first. I know you have this whole belief that you need to do everything alone so you won’t burden everyone with your problems, but I want to be burdened. No, I need to be burdened.”
He presses his lips together and nods once. “All right. I promise.”
“Thank you.” I free a breath of relief. “I always need to know you’re okay.” I step back and twine my fingers with his. “Now, let’s go inside and make out.”
His lips threaten to pull upward as he turns and leads me the rest of the way to the back door. I can feel the beat of his heart pulsating from his fingertips as we enter his house.
It’s quiet inside, soundless inside.
“So, no one’s home at all?” I ask as we kick off our shoes in the foyer.
He shakes his head, giving me a nervous, sidelong glance. “Nope, everyone’s gone for at least another hour.”
Biting back a smile, I let him steer me into the kitchen. The air smells like cinnamon and chocolate, and I spot a plate of cookies on the counter.
“Yes! Cookies!” I exclaim a little too excitedly. Aunt Lila owns her own catering business and is an amazing cook. “I love it when she bakes.”
He laughs at me as I swipe a cookie from off the plate. Then we start up the stairway.
As we reach the top of the stairs, he smiles at me from over his shoulder as I stuff my face with gooey chocolate. “Good?”
“Delish.” I lick my fingers clean, making exaggerated smacking sounds.
He watches me in complete fascination, his eyes burning with something I don’t quite recognize.
I lick my last finger clean. “Are you okay?”
He blinks and then clears his throat. “Yeah, I’m good.”
I eye him suspiciously. “Wait. Are we having another office moment?” I restrain a laugh when he uncomfortably shifts his weight, a flush creeping up his cheeks.
Back in the day, before we were dating, he got a hard-on while I was straddling his lap. Being slightly intoxicated, I pointed it out and embarrassed the crap out of him.
“Honestly,” he starts, carefully calculating his next words, “we’ve had a lot of office moments over the last few months.”
Acting like a ridiculously silly girl, I grin. “Really?”
“I don’t know why you look so shocked,” he quickly says, looking off over my shoulder. “Just looking at you is—does—turns me on. But kissing and touching you . . .” He blinks back at me. “But, yeah, anyway . . .” He waits, looking hopeful that I’ll let him off the hook.
Even though I love teasing him, I decide to go easy on him. “So, anything else interesting happening in your life that I should know about?”
He contemplates it, climbing to the top of the stairs. “Well, I’m getting my tattoo covered in a few days.”
“Really?” I ask excitedly.
He nods, excited himself. “I’m a little nervous about . . . well”—he gestures at his side where the tattoo is hidden beneath his shirt—“the whole process.”
I offer him an encouraging smile. “You’ll do fine. I know it. And, if you want, I can go with you and hold your hand.”
“Actually, I was kind of hoping you’d sketch the cover up tattoo for me.” He skims his finger along the inside of my wrist, causing me to shiver. “It’d be nice if you’d go with me, too, though.”
“Of course.” I puff out a stressed breath. “Man, I’m feeling a little bit nervous.”
“About what?”
“About creating something that will permanently be on your body. Just think, every time you look at it, you’ll think of me.”
His brow arches questioningly. “And that’s a bad thing?”
I shrug. “That all depends on stuff.”
“Stuff like what?”
“I don’t know, like if we break up one day or something.”
He studies me with his dark eyes, and my skin starts to heat; not with a blush, but with lust. My heart pumps fast, dances in my chest, creates a rhythm of its own, a beat that would make a fantastic song.
“I think I’m okay with something you draw being on my body forever.” Without warning, his lips come down on mine hard, giving me barely any time to process more than a single thought about what he’s said.
I have zero time to suck in a breath as his tongue slips into my mouth. He kisses me fiercely, passion burning, scorching through my body, silk spilling through my veins. It’s the kind of kiss with zero planning, the kind of kiss that means so much. The kind of kiss I’ll hold onto forever. The kind of kiss everyone should experience at least once in their lifetime.
My hands find his shoulders, my fingertips delving into the fabric of his shirt as I try to keep my legs from giving out. As if he senses my inability to stay on my feet, his hands travel down my body, trembling the entire way, and he gri
ps onto my thighs. With a deep inhale, he holds onto me tightly and picks me up.
When his body begins to quiver, I start to lower my feet to the ground, but he constricts his grasp on me, holding me in place. He counts to five under his breath then presses me closer until so much heat is coursing through me I can barely breathe. So, so much heat. I feel like I’m drowning in heat, yet I want to sink farther, let the warmth take me down and hold me there forever.
“Where are we going?” I whisper against his lips as he starts to move somewhere.
Pressing me even closer to him, he slides a hand underneath my butt. “To my room.” His voice is uneven, off-pitch, gravelly.
I link my feet behind his back as he stumbles blindly down the hallway and kicks open his bedroom door. I get lost in the kiss, the feel of his hands, the beat of his heart slamming through his chest and against mine. I get so lost I barely notice anything around me until we’re falling onto the mattress.
His solid body lands on top of me, but his arms brace the weight of his fall. He pulls back to look down at me, breathing heavily, and panic flashes in his eyes.
“Are you okay?” I ask, cupping his cheek. “We can slow down if we need to. We always can.”
“I’m fine.” He gasps for air, battling to calm down. Once he’s settled, he stares at me with strands of his hair in his eyes. “I know we can always stop, but I . . . I think I want to keep going.”
I sweep his hair out of his eyes and let my hand linger on his scruffy cheek. I’m not sure what he means. Keep going? How far? More kissing? More touching? More . . . ?
My thoughts dissipate as his lips return to mine, and he gives me a deliberate, sensual, soul-stealing kiss. His hand wanders up the bottom of my skirt, slowly, slowly, slowly. Every brush of his fingers, every caress of his tongue is deliberate, which makes every second that much more erotic. His fingers stop moving the moment they reach the hem of my panties. He never takes it farther than this, and I haven’t asked him to, even though I want to. Badly.
I gasp and wiggle below him, desperate for him to touch me more. For me to be able to touch him. Touch, touch, touch him all over. I want to touch him like he touches me.
Unraveling You Series: The Complete Set Page 34
