by Loretta Lost
How do I tell Liam all this? I want him to know. I slide my hand across his chest, and I can feel that his heartbeat has quickened, too. Does he feel the way I do? I exhale slowly, feeling my breath mingle with the electricity between us. I want this so badly. I want to love him so badly. I am tired of living and loving only in my stories, and mingling only with fictional people. I tried so hard, for so many years, to pour all of my emotions into the pages—but it was never enough. They never became real. The people I created never jumped from the pages and became my friends or lovers. I tried as hard as I could, and gave them everything I had, but I could never bring them to life.
Now, for the first time, my life is on the verge of becoming just as beautiful as my stories. Can this be real? I remember my book resting on Liam’s coffee table, and tears spring to my eyes. Did he feel all of that emotion, and instinctively know how much I needed him? Is that why he came all that way to find me? Was my writing some sort of beacon? Was I sending messages out into the world all along, and asking someone to come and save me?
Feeling a bit desperate, I place my lips against his, trying to phrase all my questions within the confines of a single kiss. He does not respond, but instead, he becomes suddenly and strangely still. I wait for a moment, growing afraid. I kiss him again, more deeply, trying to elicit a response from him. His hands have stopped moving against me, and he seems to be considering something. Anxiety bubbles up within me, and I press my lips against his again and again, growing more demanding.
“Liam,” I whisper against his mouth. “Liam?”
His hands tighten around me, and he returns the kiss with more urgency than ever before; he steals my breath away. I am overwhelmed by his power as his hands tighten around my body, and he pulls me even closer. He kisses me so forcefully that my neck cranes backward slightly and hurts a little. I feel like I have gotten the answer to my question. He feels just as desperate and lonely as I do. He needs me just as much as I need him.
I am relieved by this answer. My body responds to his, becoming more aggressive and trying to meet his strength with my own. My tongue searches further, delving and hunting between his lips for the answers to all the questions I’ve ever had.
Why are things so much harder for me?
I find myself twisting in his lap so that I can gain better access to his body. I sit up and straddle his thighs so that I can focus all my attention on the kiss, and take the pressure off his wound; I don’t want to hurt him. He slides his hands over my legs, causing my skirt to ride up and bunch up around my hips. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him so tightly that my breasts are mashed against his chest. I can’t seem to get close enough. I try to soak up all of him, and bathe myself in his strength.
Why do so many bad things happen to me? What have I done to deserve this?
Liam’s hands grab my hips and drag me down firmly against him. I gasp a little at the feeling of his hardness straining through the thin material of his lucky boxers and pressing on my most sensitive spot. A tremor runs through me at the contact, and I feel myself growing moist as my body instinctively prepares for him. I am unable to resist rubbing myself along his length, trying to feel all of him. He groans into my mouth and cups my bottom, pushing me against him harder. The two thin pieces of fabric between us are powerless to dull the sensation or separate us. They are already so soaked that they might as well be nonexistent.
Liam moves his hands to the sides of my blouse, grasping the material and tugging it up over my head. Our lips only break for a moment in order for the garment to be torn from my body. In the next moment, his hands are on the clasp of my bra, and it is removed with similar efficiency. My breasts are only exposed to the cool air for a second before his warm hands gently encircle them both, kneading the sensitive mounds with the perfect amount of pressure.
I grab his shoulders tightly as the mind-numbing pleasure overwhelms my senses. He continues to massage my flesh, masterfully rolling my nipples between his fingers. I break the kiss as my head tilts back in ecstasy, and he uses the opportunity to take my breast into his mouth, twirling his tongue around the tightened bud of my nipple. I gasp as he suckles on my breast, sending more of those little lightning bolts dancing through my stomach. He simultaneously bucks his hips against me, sliding his manhood between my increasingly slick folds. I can’t think of anything else but him.
Make me forget. Make me forget everything bad that has ever happened.
Liam removes his lips from my breast, and kisses the tender, exposed area of my neck, raking his stubble across my sensitive skin. Somehow, even this is pleasurable. Every aspect of him is torturing me with its sublime masculine perfection. It suddenly occurs to me that he is still wearing a shirt, and I feel the need to remove it from him hastily. I want to feel his skin against mine. I reach out and begin to fumble madly to undo the buttons. He helps me, and when I push the fabric off his arms, he leans forward to shrug the material away and slide it off his arms. He flings the shirt aside before putting his arms back around me, and crushing me against him.
“Winter,” he groans against my face. “God, I want you.”
He attaches his lips to mine again hungrily, and runs his hands over my naked back. He circles his hips upward to tease me with his erection until I gasp out his name. My soaked panties are plastered against me and becoming cumbersome. He must sense this, for he reaches down to peel them away from my skin and places his fingers there instead.
When he rubs his fingers in a slow circle amidst my wetness, I can’t restrain a moan. This encourages him, and he continues to massage between my folds until my desire builds to an ache deep inside me. I feel like my body is ablaze. My tender flesh is throbbing against his fingers and begging him for more.
All my logic seems to have flown from my skull; there is only devastating pleasure.
I find myself squirming wantonly, and behaving very unlike myself. When he plunges his fingers inside me, I cry out at the precious invasion. I haven’t been touched this way in forever, and never so skillfully and lovingly. For a few seconds, as he pumps his fingers into me, I find my body quaking as my muscles tense around him, unused to the affections. It soon grows to be too much, and I have to push him away and try to catch my breath.
“Are you okay?” he asks immediately. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, no,” I tell him breathlessly. “It’s wonderful. I just...” I place my hands on his face and give him a look of pleading. “I just want you.”
He understands my need and he swivels to toss me down onto the sofa. He reaches under my bunched up skirt to completely remove my ruined panties, pulling them over my legs and tossing them in the direction of the coffee table. I worry that he has placed them on my book, but I imagine he has better aim than that. I am startled when he pushes my knees apart and looks at me for a moment.
“Liam?” I say nervously.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, lowering himself to place a kiss between my thighs. His tongue darts within me, lapping up my juices and massaging my sensitive bud.
My hips quiver at this feeling, and I place my hands in his hair. A strange moan of pleasure leaves my lips, and I feel dizzy and delirious. I can’t take much more of this. It’s too much to bear. “Liam,” I murmur, trying to pull him away from my body. “Stop. Come here.”
He immediately halts his activities and moves back over me to place a kiss on my lips. I can taste the residue of myself on him, and it’s sweet and pleasant.
“What’s wrong?” he asks softly. “I was enjoying myself.”
“Please,” I whisper, reaching down to tug at the waistband of his lucky boxers and beginning to slide them off. I wrap my hand around the warm flesh of his engorged member and firmly stroke his entire length. “I want you inside me.”
“Winter,” Liam says hoarsely. “Are you sure that...”
“Yes, yes,” I mumble. “Please.”
He hesitates. “I just don’t want...”
“Take these off
already,” I implore him as I reach down to wrestle with the boxers, “so you can actually get lucky.”
A deep chuckle rumbles in his throat. He complies in removing the offending garment, but I feel him wince when the waistband scrapes against his wounded leg.
“Does it hurt too much?” I ask him with worry.
“I’m fine,” he tells me as he moves back over me. He lets his forehead drop to rest gently against mine as he positions himself at my entrance. “Are you sure you want to do this? We’re not moving too fast?”
“You’re moving far too slowly,” I complain as my body writhes in torment beneath him. I feel so much burning need that it is causing me physical pain. I need to quench this fire before it reduces me to ashes. I push my hips against him, trying to beg him with my body. “Please, Liam? Will you make love to me?”
“Gladly,” he whispers, gently combing his fingers through my hair. He seems to be exercising great restraint in not plunging himself inside me. I can feel his body shaking above me with the effort. “I just want to take it slow and enjoy the moment.”
“I don’t have the same self-control that you do,” I tell him weakly. “I never feel this way. I never let myself feel this way.”
“I know,” he says softly, as he pulls away from me a few inches. “And I also know from your medical records that you’ve never been on birth control.”
“Hey! Those are private,” I say with a frown. I am flattered that he cared enough to check, but having trouble caring about that right now. “Can you just... be careful?”
“I could,” he says softly, “but it’s a risk.”
“I want to take a risk with you,” I say as I wrap my arms around his large torso. He feels so good on top of me. “Please.”
“Alright,” he says, placing his hand against my cheek. He positions himself against my wetness again, and gently prods my entrance by moving his hips ever-so-slightly. “I swear to God, Helen, if you say ‘please’ one more time, I’m going to lose my mind. I don’t have as much self-control as you think.”
My body suddenly stiffens. Time seems to slow down all around me. I try to speak, but my lips are locked shut. My chest feels very constricted, like there is a great weight on top of me. I try to breathe.
“What did you...” I manage to croak out. I gasp for air. “What did you call me?”
He responds, but I can’t hear the words he’s speaking. It suddenly feels like he is very far away. The darkness around me grows darker, and I stare into it with terror. A strange pain shoots through my eyes, and I feel like I have been plunged underwater. My lungs are heavy. I feel like I am drowning.
I feel a finger trail down across my neck. It is gentle, but somehow, I still feel like it is suffocating me. I gasp for breath, but I can’t seem to get any air. My windpipe is being crushed. The darkness spins, growing heavy and dragging me down. I shut my eyes tightly, wondering if I am close to death.
“Winter?” Liam says sharply. I can feel that he is shaking my shoulders. “Winter? Are you okay?”
I open my eyes, and inhale deeply. In an instant, the panic is gone, but I do feel a thin film of sweat covering my chest. I try to quickly rid myself of the old feelings. I know them well—it’s part of a nightmare I’ve had a thousand times. “I’m fine,” I tell him weakly. “I’m so sorry. I just thought—I thought I heard you call me Helen.”
“Did I?” he asks. “I don’t think so. I’m sorry if I did. We should probably stop.”
“What?” I say with a different kind of panic. I realize then that Liam has pulled away from me completely, and that his body is no longer close to mine. I reach out to grasp his arm. “Liam! It was just a moment of—something. Please don’t stop.”
“Winter,” he says slowly. “Your pupils just dilated.”
“So?” I say in confusion.
“Your disease prevents your eyes from perceiving any light. You could look directly at the sun and your pupils wouldn’t change size. But you just looked at me and your pupils dilated—with fear.”
“I’m not afraid,” I say, but it’s a blatant lie. I am afraid—terrified of the fact that he’s walking away from me now after we nearly shared something so intimate. Am I too damaged for him to love me? “Liam, please,” I whisper brokenly. “Come back. I’m sorry.”
“Look,” he says softly, squeezing my hand. “We’ve had a rough night. Maybe this just isn’t the right time. Besides, I’m a little worried that my stitches might break open. I could feel them straining. I should probably let my leg heal first.”
“Really?” I say skeptically. “Are you sure that’s bothering you? Because it’s the right time for me.”
“There’s also the fact that you’re my patient,” he says hesitantly. “I really shouldn’t...”
“What the hell!” I say angrily, ripping my hand away from him and gesturing to the sofa. “And all this—haven’t we already done enough for you to lose your job?”
“Yes,” he says quietly. “But the truth is that I think we’re doing this for the wrong reasons. After what we’ve been through tonight—this is just stress relief. It’s understandable that we would want to lose ourselves in this and forget. But it’s not right, Winter. It’s just going through the motions.”
“How can you say that?” I whisper in horror.
“I want to have something real with you,” Liam says. “I wanted this to be about you and me. I don’t want you to be thinking about anyone else. I don’t want you to be with me while remembering someone else. You can’t just use us to erase something bad.”
These words hit me like a stab to the heart. I try to conceal the hurt from my face. “I can’t control my bad memories.”
“Maybe you just need time,” he tells me. “Maybe we were just moving way too fast. It’s probably my fault. I’m sorry. If we did this now, you would just be using me to override someone else.”
“I’ve had time,” I say quietly, turning away from him to face the inside of the sofa. I wrap my arms around myself and stare forward blankly. “It’s just the first time since...”
Tears begin streaming down my cheeks and I cannot finish my sentence. I try to remain very quiet and still so that he won’t know that I’m crying. I feel so humiliated.
Liam places a hand on my waist, and the contact against my exposed skin makes me flinch. I try to hold my breath so that he won’t feel my tears. I remain very still, praying that he’ll go away.
“I have a large t-shirt that you can wear to sleep, if you want,” he says kindly. “It’s an old Yankees jersey. It’s very comfortable.”
The fact that he is being so sweet causes more tears to slide across my nose in a veritable torrent. I would normally try to make a joke about actually being a Mets fan, but I haven’t the energy. The idea of wearing his shirt to sleep sounds lovely—I still want to be close to him, but he seems so withdrawn. It feels like it’s over between us.
“I have clean towels if you want to take a shower,” Liam says softly. “In case you don’t remember, the bathroom is the door near the entrance. Also, if you’d like to sleep in the bed, I could take the couch if that would make you more comfortable.”
I wrinkle up my face at these words. I must be extremely repulsive to him if he doesn’t even want to sleep in the same bed with me. It is especially painful due to the fact that I was really looking forward to cuddling with him and being held. Now, all these fantasies are shattered. I feel miserable and unwanted.
“Just...” Liam emits a small sigh of defeat. “It’s been a rough night. I think we’re both feeling a little vulnerable and not thinking straight. I just... I didn’t want to take advantage of you.”
The phrase causes my stomach to turn over in disgust. He’s treating me like fragile glass. Like a child. I suppose I deserve it, because I certainly feel like both of those things at the moment.
“Let me know if there’s anything you need. Goodnight, Winter.”
As soon as his hand leaves my side, I silently rele
ase the breath I have been holding. I wait until I hear his footsteps walking away before I breathe in and let a small sob shake my shoulders. I can’t believe that I dared to think I could be happy. Only a few minutes ago, I felt like I was in heaven. I felt like I was loved, or at least wanted. But now, I’m lonelier than ever. Even more so than when I was actually alone, in the middle of nowhere. I was so close to having something perfect. Something normal.
I really didn’t need this little taste of all the things I’ll never have.
It hurts so much. Far more than I thought it would. How long until I get over this? And where do I go from here? Liam’s rejection stings and grates my insides in a much more personal way than Grayson’s violence.
Of course, it would so happen that when I’m begging a man to touch me, he isn’t interested. He has better things to do. Yet when I’m begging a man to stop... he doesn’t.
Typical. That’s just my luck.
I close my eyes and command my weary heart to sleep and forget.
I am woken up by a brutal pounding in my head that could only be one thing: a wine hangover.
Why does wine always give the worst hangovers? I press both of my hands against my forehead to try to quell the dull throbbing. My body aches and feels sore all over. I am also rather weak, and I need to lie in place for a moment before I can even attempt to sit up. When I reach out to push myself off the bed, I am surprised to find that I’m not on a bed at all, but on a leather couch.
I open my eyes and feel around quickly to get a sense of my surroundings. There is a thin blanket draped over me that I don’t remember at all. I am shocked to find that under the blanket, my chest is bare and I am mostly naked.
