by Haley Jenner
I can't keep away from her, I only left her late last night at Ma's but already I need to see her again. I told myself I was coming here to apologize, that's the reason I'm running with anyway. I was an asshole last night. Right, but still an asshole. She’s playing games with my head and I don’t fucking like it. I should’ve played it better though, I can't keep going off at her half-cocked, steaming and shouting. She'll never come back to me if all I do is assault her with snippets of my temper. Real-fucking-tempting Archer, how could she possibly resist?
I know her head space is messed up. Belle's always been emotional, so her mind must be a war zone right now. I know she wants this, wants us, but she’s convinced herself it can never happen. I just need to wear her down, pull every wall that she builds up, right the fuck back down. Rid all that doubt from her brain and leave only the good. Leave only the memories and thoughts pushing her back to me.
The faint sound of the shower echoes from upstairs and smile to myself; thoughts of Belle naked and wet, welcome in my mind. I take the stairs two at a time to reach her, my ascent coming to an abrupt halt at the top when I hear the sound of her breathy moan.
THE. FUCK?!
Rational thought escapes my brain as I see red; I’m going to kill the motherfucker in there with her. Jake assured me she didn’t have a man and she made it crystal fucking clear there's no one else. Confusion clouds my mind, ceasing my ability to move. My feet won't fucking work as my body shuts down. I thought I was wearing her down, I can see it in her eyes every time I see her - she remembers how good it was between us, how right it feels. Would she go that far to convince herself otherwise? Fuck somebody else? Anger reverberates through my entire body as I force myself to move closer to the open door of our bathroom. I’m fucking pissed that she’d do this. Let another man touch her, when her body, her soul, belongs to me.
Moving in closer, my eyes scan the immediate space and I see no sign of another man. No car was parked outside. No clothes are thrown across the floor. No vocal evidence of company. I edge closer to the door and almost laugh at my own stupidity. My anger instantly dissipates, my body beginning to buzz with want instead of anger when I see her. Alone. Soapy and wet in the shower. A shower I've fucked her in countless times before.
Her body is angled away from me, so I don’t hide away from watching her. Leaning against the doorframe, I enjoy the image as one small hand runs softly over her body, stopping at her breasts, making her moan once again. The sound is breathy, almost inaudible and I know she’s close. She’s quiet, soft in her noises when she touches herself. So different from the sounds I’m rewarded with when I touch her. I get breathy too, but mostly I get the loud, the explicit, and the incoherent. I love the range, never knowing how her body will choose to respond.
My eyes scan down to follow her other hand, dipped between her thighs, rubbing back and forth, pleasuring herself as water cascades down her soft skin. I hate that I can’t see that hand, can’t see its positioning, how it’s moving. I can imagine it, I’ve seen her do it an endless number of times, but I want it now. I want the image fresh in my mind.
A desperate groan bubbles from her throat as the hand toying with her nipples flies to the wall. She continues to work herself harder, her breaths coming shorter and sharper as she brings herself closer to climax. My body itches to climb in with her, to take over and watch her body unravel at my touch, but I can’t pull my eyes away. As it's always been, Belle bringing herself home is the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen. My dick is standing to attention, throbbing with need.
Without further warning her neck arches, her body convulsing as she comes against her hand softly, my name a muted moan from her lips.
Me.
Archer.
It rings in my ears and my smile is instant, victorious. Even though physically, I had nothing to do with her orgasm, I was most definitely there in spirit.
I’d give fucking anything to walk in there and lick her fingers clean, to taste her sweetness on my tongue. My dick twitches at the thought, bringing my attention back to my reality and I allow myself only a few more seconds, until her breathing begins to soften, before walking away.
I can’t stop the shit eating grin that takes over my face as I make my way back down the stairs. Baby still thinks about me when she fucks herself.
HELL. FUCKING. YEAH.
I’ve never, in my life, been so painfully hard. A cold shower would go a long way in helping to stop myself blowing in my pants like a hormonal teenager. Better yet, being able to jerk off to the scene that just played out for my eyes would be a hellva-lot more satisfying kind of release, but this opportunity is too fucking great to pass on. So instead of calming my rocklike dick, I grab a cold beer from the fridge and make myself comfortable.
I take a seat on our soft beige sofa, facing the stairs and crossing my ankles of my outstretched legs onto the distressed wood of our low-lying coffee table, I wait. Within minutes she approaches the top of the stairs and in that moment, I regret not having climbed in the shower with her.
Belle’s incomparable in her beauty after she comes and seeing her feels like a sucker punch to the chest. Realizing that in amongst a million other things, this is something I've had to live without for three years. Another snippet of our lives I threw away. Moments, too many to count, that I've gone without, missed out on.
Her skin glows with a rosy flush creeping under the creaminess of her skin. Her large brown eyes seem brighter, deeper in color almost as her blinks come on soft and slow. It’s unintentional, but a completely sensual movement that doesn't hide her recent satisfaction. Her smile is subtle in its appearance, not exuberant, just well contented. It's a good look, her sexiness merely suggestive not obvious.
It only takes her a few seconds to notice my presence, her descent on the stairs slowing. “Arch, I – uh – didn’t realize you were here,” she startles before laughing nervously.
My eyes keep contact with hers, as she forces her feet to continue down the stairs. Slowly, I raise the bottle in my hand to my lips and drink deeply. My voice is hoarse when I speak, making my need for her obvious. “Apparently.”
She bites her lip, thinking, a small smile tugging at her mouth. “How long you been here?” she questions, the rose to her cheeks shading darker.
I finish my beer and stand. “Long enough,” I reply, a smirk twisting at my lips. Unhurriedly, I make my way to the kitchen and throw my bottle in the trash.
Back in the lounge she's dropped down onto the bottom step, her eyes diverted. She’s not embarrassed, not in the slightest. Her creamy skin is flushed, a barely-there shade to her cheeks, while her pink lips remain tipped up in a tease of a smile. My Belle’s turned on. Incredibly so.
She hasn't noticed my reappearance in the room; her eyes closed, hands rubbing along her arms and I clear my throat announcing myself. She doesn't startle, instead, slowly lifting her head to seek me out. Her chocolates are hooded over, the need clear on her features. My dick, already impossibly hard, twitches at that look. The want on her face. I could take it. Easily. Bury myself inside her once again. Right where she sits, on the stairs. Fuck her hard. Own her body. Show her what our bodies make when they’re connected. She'd give it to me. Hell, she's beggin' me to take it with the look in her eyes and it takes every ounce of willpower I have not to.
I can’t let myself do it. Belle’s right, as much as I would love to try, we can't fuck our way around this. I need her invested, one hundred percent here, present in the relationship. I need to break down her walls and get her to realize, to admit that she wants to be here. I need to push her into an irrefutable need to be back here with me.
"Tell me I'm not fightin' a losin' battle here, Belle. Tell me I'm breaking through. Tell me you want to be here. With me. Baby, tell me I'm winning, that I'm not fightin' in vain," I plead, searching her face for any indication at all, my pushing is working.
Her eyes fill with tears immediately as she holds my stare, hearing my words. "Tell m
e we're getting to a point that we’ll be back here. In our home. Together. Tell me we're getting to a point that you look at me the way you just did, I don't have to hesitate to take you. To touch you. That when I fuck you, I don't have to be scared shitless that you're gonna spook and run. Tell me. Please," I beg her, not embarrassed at the desperation in my voice. Hell, I’d drop to my knees and pray if I’d think it’d make a difference. I need her to know how desperate I am for her.
“I’m scared,” she whispers, her glassy eyes blinking closed tightly, allowing the built-up moisture to fall.
“Me too. But not for the same reason you are,” I share as she opens her eyes and focuses back on me. I want to move farther into the room, sit close to her. But I don’t, I stay braced against the doorframe and keep her eyes. “I’m scared of having to go back to living an empty life. Without you. I’m scared that you don’t want me anymore, that the hurt I caused was too much, that you’re never gonna move past what happened. I’m fucking terrified that one day you’ll find someone else to give you all the things that are supposed to be mine,” I finish quietly.
She brushes away the loose tears that have fallen from her cheeks, sniffing softly. “You don’t need to be scared of that. It’s always you, Archer. Will be forever. If it’s not you, it’s no one. I just have to decide whether my heart can take the risk on you again. Or whether I’m better off with the no one” she offers cautiously.
As haunting as her words are, as damaging as the outcome could be if she decides I’m not worth it, I’m thankful for her honesty. She’s finally letting me in, sharing herself once again – emotionally, not just physically and that’s a positive I’ll take right now. Whether she’s aware of it or not, I’m breaking through and I have to be happy with that.
“To be honest, Archer, I…. I don’t even really know what happened, why it all fell apart. I know you were hurting inside. But you wouldn’t……still won’t confide in me. You won’t share what took you away from me and that’s hard for me to accept. If I can’t try to understand why you left me, because, although I left Carnation - by your direction, you’d left me months before. How can I let my heart trust you again?”
I’d be a fool if I thought this moment wouldn’t happen, her want for information. She’d pushed it time and time again years ago, but like everything else back then, I gave her nothing. “There isn’t much to tell, Belle. If you’re wanting a play-by-play of shit that went down while I was away, I can’t give you that,” I confess, crossing my arms across my chest. “It wasn't one specific event or moment. It was living in hell, every-fucking-day. It wasn't just that last tour, the two before were just as fucked up. Everything started to take its toll; living that life for months on end until I cracked. I talk to other soldiers now and it’s good for me; debriefing when I need it with other servicemen and women. I don’t ever want to tarnish you with the shit I’ve seen. It’s evil baby, like you could never imagine…….and before you throw attitude, it's not that I think you can’t handle it. It’s that I don’t want you to have to. All the darkness that’s eaten away at my soul, that’s my burden to bear. I want your support though, I need it, Belle. I won’t ever let myself get back to that place. Coming back from over there I felt weak,” I scowl at the recollection of my darkest days, the memory hard to bring to mind. “Weak, that all that shit had landed in my soul, that I had let it in. Baby, I felt pathetic……useless. Obviously now I know it's stupid to think that way. I’ve worked through…….am continually working through it all. That’s all you need to know. I’m solid now, Belle. Swear to God. I would never hurt you, baby, never again. I’d die before I’d let that happen. The pain that I felt festering inside of me was nothing like that soul-wrenching pain I felt watching you die right alongside me.”
I can see the tracks of tears on her cheeks as I speak, opening myself up to her. Silence filters through the room as Belle’s eyes remain glued to mine, her brain working furiously to digest the information I handed to her.
“You’re better,” she states and I nod in agreement. “You’re better,” she repeats, her voice cracking and I stand up straighter. “You’re better, you’re stronger and you never came for me. If you want this, us,” she gestures between the two of us. “If you’ve worked through the darkness, why didn’t you come for me? I’ve been living in hell, Archer.”
“That what you think? That I didn't want you anymore?” I ask incredulously. “Shit, Belle, you have to know that ain't true. I thought about it day in and day out. Drove to Bellingham more times than I could count but I could never find the ...... I .... Fuck, baby I was scared.” She watches me expectantly, encouraging me to continue, to explain myself further. “No one would talk to me about you. I had no idea what your life looked like, shit I didn't know for sure that you were even in Bellingham. What if I found you, Belle, what if I found you and you were happy?” The hurt in her face burns my soul and I’m mad. Mad that my fucked-up self continues to cause her pain. That my insecurities caused her further suffering. “What would I have done if I turned up on your doorstep and you'd found happiness with another man? I was scared shitless that you would've finally realized I wasn't worth your time and moved on.”
I scan her face for any indication she understands my viewpoint, that she understands my fears. “Who was I to take that away from you? Make your life difficult by reopening old wounds? I'd already taken so much from you by then, I couldn't potentially turn your life upside down again. I loved you too much for that. Love you too much for that.”
Shaking her head, she frowns in annoyance. “Always the martyr hey, Archer? Thinking you’re doing the best by everyone else when you’re dying inside? What about me? What about what I wanted? You spill this shit about loving me too much to mess up my life - what about loving me enough to try? What about loving me enough to fight?”
“What do u think I'm doing, Belle?” I ask disbelieving.
“Now. You're doing it now that I came back.”
“Don't pull that shit,” I smile humorlessly. “You didn't come back for me,” I accuse. “You came back for Janie, not me. Jake ever tell you if sorted my shit, Belle? He ever let you know I was in a better place?” She sits in silence, a stone mask in place, but I see the flicker of regret, of guilt. “Thought so. So what about you? You knew that I was working it out and you never came back for me. Never fought again. For me. For us.”
“Because I had none left,” she yells. "I had no fight fucking left, Archer. I used it all the months leading up to you pushing me outta town.”
“This? Again?” I sigh, rubbing my jaw in frustration. “You think I wanted you gone? Really? Fuck. You think that Belle than how can you ever think I loved you?”
“So now it's my fault I left?” she throws at me, her anger spiking. “I should have, what? Stayed, and fought harder?"
“Yes. No. Fuck. I don't know,” I stammer, growling at my inability to answer. “No. It's not your fault. Was I angry you were gone? Yes. Did I blame you for leaving me? Yes. But deep down, did I know it was my fault? Of course I did.” My answer is quiet in its delivery, soft in the sting of its meaning. How could I blame her? For any of it. How could I admit it to her, knowing that it was all my fault?
“I need time, Archer. I need time to process, to know for certain that I can be back here with you. I know I need it. God, I want it more than you could possibly know,” she admits and I want to scream at her to forget the ‘but’ I know is coming.
“Everything inside of me is betraying what, for the last few years, I’ve been fighting to get to, and that’s a place that I can survive without you. To a point that my life makes any kind of sense without you. Everything inside of me is telling me this is right. To walk to you right now, wrap my arms around you, fit myself to you. To kiss you. To work at this. But I‘ve worked so fucking hard at protecting my heart, Archer. So right now, I’m unravelling. I feel crowded, which is stupid, I know. But ……I just need time,” she finishes on a whisper, not meeting my eyes,
choosing to speak to the carpet.
Time scares the shit out of me. Time gives her the opportunity to run from me. Time gives her the convenience of being able to talk herself around this, to make herself believe that we are wrong.
“I can give you time,” I lie, the words like acid on my tongue. “As long as you don’t use it to talk yourself away from me. Please. I’m beggin’ here, Belle, baby, think about all I’ve said. Know that I need you, I want you and I can’t live without you anymore.”
Her eyes are on mine again now, her head nodding hastily at my words. “I promise,” she offers and I just have to hope with everything she wouldn't lie to me at this point. That her promise is true.
We let the quiet filter between us after the depth of our conversation. I can’t actually bring myself to leave just yet so I walk back to the fridge and collect two more bottles. I hand one to her before moving back to my space against the door frame, taking the time to watch as she drinks deeply before pulling at the label on the bottle.
A small smile pulls at her lips and I can’t help my body’s reaction to return her grin, even though it's not directed at me and I have no idea what's caused it. I’d give anything to know though, to be given a front row seat to all her thoughts.
“D’you really watch?” She questions using her thumb to indicate back towards the stairs.
I can’t stop the shit eating grin that breaks my face. Belle watches my face, eyes capturing my reaction before she laughs softly. “You couldn’t have just left, had to stroke your over-inflated ego, did you?” she smirks up at me and I continue to smile over at her. Not speaking. I don’t need words. Belle can read my face well enough.
I want to tell her that I know she isn’t embarrassed, that I know it turned her on, knowing I watched her. I love watching her touch herself. I’d lose all sense of self-control when she made herself come against her own hand. I want to tell her that I know that she’s as sexually frustrated as I am right now. Knowing in the past, the sex would have been hard and dirty after witnessing that. I know she feels denied of something that’s rightfully hers, because that’s exactly how I feel.
