Grace for Drowning

by Maya Cross

  Dropping back down to his knees he moved between my legs, tugging my panties to the side with enough force that I felt sure they were going to tear. And then he was touching me.

  Electricity surged through my body.

  "Jesus Christ, you're so fucking wet," he said.

  I could only moan in reply. His skin was rough against the softness of my folds, and my body trembled with pleasure. He moved with undisguised hunger, darting up to tease my clit before dipping low and pushing inside. My hips turned possessed, grinding and shifting as he explored me. Some distant part of me was dimly aware that I was lying there naked and writhing in the middle of a public gym, but any sense of restraint or propriety had long since fled. I don't think a team of photographers snapping pictures could have stopped me at that moment.

  Logan's free hand had slipped down to his cock and was sliding gently up and down as he played with me. It was an incredible sight watching this glorious man pleasure himself while he pleasured me.

  Eventually, he drew a sharp breath and rose to his feet. "Fuck, I can't take this." He disappeared into the bathroom momentarily and returned with a condom. It took only moments for him to tear it open and stretch it over his length, but that was moments too long.

  Sliding close and lifting my calves to lie on his shoulders, he brought his swollen head to rest tantalizingly against my cleft. "Last chance." Even through the desire, I could hear a note of concern in his voice. I can't tell you how much I appreciated that. Even now, in the height of his passion, he was looking out for me. He was so much more than he seemed, powerful and dangerous, but also tender and caring.

  "I want this. I want you." There was no hesitation. My whole body felt like it was on fire. I didn't just want him. I needed him.

  "You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that."

  I gasped as he pushed inside me. It had been a long time, and he was so big, my body struggled to accommodate to that immense pressure. He began rocking back and forward, easing himself deeper and deeper, until he'd buried himself all the way to the root. The initial sting gave way to a glowing warmth that seemed to flow out from between my legs, enveloping my entire body.

  "Fuck your pussy is tight," he said, his voice deep and heavy.

  I felt myself blushing, although there was a frisson of excitement too. Nobody had ever talked to me like that before. It should have sounded corny, but in the heat of the moment it was incredibly sexy.

  "That's because you're so damned big," I replied, trying my best to play along. I half expected it to make him laugh, but it only seemed to spur him on. He pulled his shaft all the way free, leaving a desperate emptiness behind, but then with a massive thrust of his hips he rammed himself back inside, drawing a sharp cry from my mouth.

  He began taking me harder, leaning forward until his hands found mine, pinning me to the mat and driving me into the ground with each powerful stroke. My legs were pushed down toward my shoulders, curling me over like a contortionist, and the shift in angle sent intense bursts of pleasure through my stomach as he struck some exquisite new place inside me. Never before had I been so aware of the power of his body. I could feel it vibrating through him with every thrust, that raw strength that seemed like it could break the world in two.

  His breath was coming sharp and fast now, punctuated by animal grunts as he forced himself deeper and deeper. I felt like I was unraveling, like I was coming apart at the seams. There was nothing between us. He filled me; the pressure of him, the heat, that delicious earthy smell. The world faded to black around us.

  A powerful ecstasy was building in my core, trembling and thrashing like a caged animal trying to break free. I wanted to beg him to slow down. This couldn't end so fast. As lost as I was in the moment, some tiny part of me still knew what waited on the other side. But I couldn't find the words. My body had a mind of its own.

  "Oh God," I cried. "I'm coming."

  With unbridled ferocity, he pushed me over the edge. There was a flash of heat and then the world seemed to burst. It had been half a year since I'd done anything even remotely sexy, and in that moment it felt like my body had been keeping a pretty good ledger of the debt. My vision shattered and my body buckled as those months of frustration and pain and anger radiated out into the world. It seemed to go on for ever and ever. The sounds that spilled from my mouth were unlike any I'd ever made before, moans that echoed up from the deepest part of me.

  My climax seemed to set him off too. A thundering rumble began in his chest and his body stiffened. He slammed himself into me almost to the point of pain, but I didn't care. I wanted him, as much as I could get.

  We lay in silence for some time when it was over, as though speaking would shatter the beauty of what had just happened. I could have stayed like that forever, shielded in the crook of his arm, feeling the heat of his skin, the beat of his heart. For that brief period, it was just the two of us. Nothing else. No ghosts. No specters of the past. Unfortunately, reality has a way of forcing itself upon you despite your best efforts. With the glow fading and the world swimming back into focus, the truth of what I'd just done came looming up before me.

  "Oh shit," said Logan. "Are you crying? Shit."

  I wanted to reassure him that I was okay, that this was okay, but I was no longer sure that was true. It was like a valve had been opened behind my eyes. The tears came hot and fast, and that pressure seemed to flow down throughout my whole body, my chest and mouth seizing and heaving. There was this terrible keening sound that I eventually realized was coming from my throat.

  Logan looked torn between pulling his naked body away and comforting me, but I took the choice away from him by rolling over and burying my face in his chest. This wasn't his fault. He'd played a part but I'd done this and, however contradictory it was, I needed him to help me through it or it was going to be too much.

  He still felt tense, but he seemed to understand, curling one long arm around me and holding me close, while my tears scored little rivulets down his skin.

  "I miss him," I whispered, when my tongue was finally my own again. "I miss him so much."

  Logan's fingers traced a gentle pattern through my hair. "I know."

  "So how do I stop it hurting so much? How do I move on?"

  "You don't. People always use the phrase 'move on' in situations like this, but that's bullshit. You never move on from anything. That's what people are, just layers of all the shit that's happened to them before. You don't need to move on, you need to keep building more layers. Tom will always be there, but eventually he'll just be a part of you, instead of all you can see."

  I prayed that was true. I didn't say it, but he was wrong about one thing. Tom wasn't all I could see, not anymore. Logan had carved out a space inside me, and it was frightening how fast it was growing.

  "I'm sorry," I said, suddenly embarrassed by what a basket case I was. "I throw myself at you then burst into tears. That's crazy bitch one-oh-one."

  "No, I'm sorry," he replied. "Fuck, I should have had more self-control. I should have stopped."

  "I didn't want to stop."

  "Well if I'd known it was going to end like this, I would have."

  "I'm sorry," I said again, feeling utterly pathetic.

  "Stop it. I didn't mean it like that." His hand snaked under my chin, tugging my gaze to his. "You never have to apologize to me, okay? Never."

  I gave a slow nod. I believed him. That was what made Logan so special, that understanding. Other people offered support, but they didn't really get it, not like he did. He saw through me. He knew my demons and the way to slay them.

  "I don't know what to do now," I said.

  "Me either."

  "I can't keep pretending anymore."

  He shifted beneath me. "Pretending?"

  "That there's not something here. It hurts, it feels like a betrayal, but it's there. I can't ignore it."

  He took a long time answering. "You should."

  After what we'd just shared, th
at stung. I lifted my head, propping myself up on my elbow so I could turn to face him. "Why?"

  "Because this," he gestured to the space between us, "is a recipe for disaster. I told you I wanted to protect you, and part of that is protecting you from me."

  "You'd never hurt me," I said. I'm not sure where that conviction came from, but it felt true. I was safe with him.

  "Not intentionally, but that doesn't mean I won't." He hauled himself up into a sitting position, taking a moment to run a hand through his hair. There were tired lines around his eyes now, as if the weight of the conversation was pressing down on him. "I had a fiancé once, too. Fiona. Beautiful girl, half American, half Filipino. We met at the end of high school and I just fell, hard. Up until that moment, everything had been simple for me. I had a plan — enlist in the army, fight for my country, save the world, all that ridiculous macho teenage crap — but suddenly I had a reason to stay. I put my career off for a while, but she didn't like that. She wanted me to be happy, even though it would be tough for us, so a year later I shipped out.

  "Somehow we made the long distance thing work despite the odds. I loved her and I like to think she loved me, too. One summer, two years later, when I was back on leave, we got engaged. We had so many plans. Start a family, a business, buy a house; the fucking American dream." He gave a sick little laugh. "It turns out they call it a dream for a reason.

  "I told you that what happened over there affected me, but I don't think you understand the extent of it. I'm not the same guy I was before I left. Some pretty fundamental shit inside me is just broken. In retrospect, I think she saw the signs, but she played them down. She wanted it to work as much as I did. But as soon as I came back for good, there was no ignoring it anymore. Fi tried, fuck knows she tried, but there's only so much a person can take. I don't blame her for leaving. I don't blame any of the women since. I've come to realize that that sort of thing is just beyond me now. I've accepted that. I don't want to cause any more pain."

  "And what about what I want?" I asked, my voice soft and trembling.

  His fists bunched and he shot to his feet. "You don't get it! Wanting it isn't enough. This is about survival. I'm messed up, Grace. You saw what I just did with Jonah. I came within a breath of pounding him into the floor just for talking to you, a girl I don't have any claim over. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. Nothing about my life is normal. I'm a psychiatrist's wet dream. I can't give you what you need."

  I knew he was telling the truth, and part of me was frightened by that, but it didn't matter. When I thought of all the possible paths that could stem from that moment, only one of them wasn't shrouded in darkness. "What I need is to keep feeling like there's some hope that things will get better," I said, "and I didn't have that until I met you. Everything has been dark for so long. Every happy memory I ever had seems to involve Tom, and now that he's gone I'm terrified I'll never have any more. But ten minutes ago, when we were...together, for the first time since he died, that feeling was gone. I felt peaceful. You have no idea what that means to me."

  He looked shaken, his mouth pulled into a tight little line. "Jesus," he said, closing his eyes.

  "I know you want to protect me and I appreciate that, but I'm a big girl, Logan. I can make my own decisions. Maybe this really is a terrible idea. Maybe I'll wake up in a week and it will hurt too much. Maybe it will break me. But we both know we can't go on like this, torturing one another. If it's a choice between losing you all together or taking that risk, then for me it's no choice at all."

  His breath was coming long and hard. Conflict raged across his face. "I need to think."

  "Okay." The irony of the situation did not escape me. Here I was wrestling with the ghost of a dead lover, yet Logan was the unsure one. But what else could I say?

  "You should go home," he said, pausing at the door.

  "In a minute."

  All I got in reply was a quick nod.

  When he'd left, I lay there alone on the mats, fresh tears brimming in my eyes. Was he correct? Was this a recipe for disaster? I had no idea what I was doing. All I knew was that it felt right, and that had to count for something.

  *****

  Logan didn't come to the bar the next day. Whether he wasn't scheduled to work or he traded his shifts, I don't know. I stayed away from the gym. That was his realm, and if he wanted to think then he deserved space. I'd said my piece.

  My shift moved at a snail's pace. I tried to distract myself, but my mind only wanted to focus on one thing. There was this immense anxiety clutching at my chest, like I was waiting to hear my prognosis from some crippling illness.

  I wanted to hate myself for what I'd done, but I couldn't. I'd told Logan the truth: what I felt for him was real. But my feelings weren't the only ones that mattered. Logan was even more conflicted over this than I was. I didn't know what I'd do if he said no. I was making progress, but losing him would be another blow, and I didn't know if I had the strength to recover from that. There are only so many times you can fall before you don't get back up again.

  It seemed like he was going to drag his decision out further, but as I was cleaning up after my shift, I heard a voice from across the room. "I'm not just afraid for you."

  I glanced up to find him standing in the doorway. He looked like he hadn't slept a wink.

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "I know you think I've got my shit under control, and most of the time I do, but it's by the skin of my teeth. Routine, repetition, knowing my limits, that's how I get by. But last night, that wasn't part of the plan. All that stuff you said about being happy for the first time in forever, that's how it was for me too, and it scares the shit out of me. I told you that when Fi left, I didn't blame her, and that was the truth, but it still hurt like hell. Everything was falling apart around me, and she was the only good thing I had left. After that, I just let myself go numb. It was the only way to cope." He stepped closer, his face a mask of intensity. "But I'm not numb anymore. I can't be. What I felt for Fi was like a candle next to the fucking sun compared to this." He gave a little shake of his head. "I don't know if I can come back from this one."

  It made my heart ache hearing such sweet words, but there was a tremble of fear there, too. He was right. The connection between us was potent, which meant that the stakes were impossibly high. If we went ahead, it could spell disaster for both of us but, at the same time, I think we'd already gone too far to turn back. For better or for worse, we were in this. "So what are you saying?"

  He hesitated. "I'm saying that I'm terrified, but I don't think I've got a choice. I can't ignore this either, Grace."

  Relief surged through me, and I ran to embrace him. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tightly against his chest. That position already felt scarily like home.

  "It's going to be hard," he said.

  I didn't have any illusions about that. "Nothing can be harder than the last few months."

  He didn't look entirely convinced, but he nodded. I liked that he was willing to be vulnerable with me. At first glance, he came across like one of those guys who is all machismo, but beneath that rugged exterior lay an emotional, sensitive, wounded man.

  In the silence that followed, I once again found my gaze wandering. Despite the emotional turmoil the other night had spawned, my mind kept coming back to the things we'd done, to the way his body had felt on top of mine. I wanted him more than ever, and now I officially had his permission.

  Stepping closer until my chest was pressed up against his I leaned up to kiss him, but he stopped me with a finger over my lips. "What's wrong?" I asked.

  "If you do that, I'm not sure I'll be able to control myself."

  "So? There's nobody around," I said, feeling an uncharacteristic rush of boldness. Something about him brought that side of me out. He made me feel sexy.

  He let out an amused little laugh. "That's true, but we've done things backward so far. I don't do things by halves, and even if I did, I couldn't with
you. We're going to do this right. I'm going to take you out."

  I raised an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't do 'normal?'"

  "For you, I'm willing to try. Besides, it'll be good for me." His voice wavered ever so slightly when he said that. I got the sense this was a big deal.

  "What did you have in mind?" I asked.

  "Is dinner and a movie too college for you?"

  I laughed. "It sounds perfect."

  "When's your next night off?"

  "Not for four days."

  "Can we lock it in, then?"

  "Deal."

  He looked poised to turn and leave, but then his eyes raked over my body and his expression turned hot. "Maybe one kiss couldn't hurt."

  I loved that I had that effect on him. "Okay," I said, sounding far too "swooning Hollywood damsel" for my liking.

  Wrapping his hands around my hips he pushed me up against the bar. Even in such a simple gesture, I could feel the innate power of his body. He wasn't one of those guys that acts dominant because of ego or arrogance. For Logan, it was simply his nature. Strength and control.

  His mouth was hot and oh-so soft. Drawing my lips between his, he sucked on them gently, a deep rumble rolling up from inside his chest. Without realizing what I was doing, I backed myself up until I was sitting on a bar stool, my legs parting to welcome him. He followed my lead, sliding closer until there was nothing but cotton between us. I could feel the heat of his excitement through his jeans, hungry and iron hard.

  I was close, so close to slipping into that zone where my mind was no longer in control, when suddenly he pulled back. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes wild and beautiful. He took a moment to recover, then flashed a cheeky smile. "To be continued."

  I couldn't help but let out a frustrated groan. It had only been a kiss, but after six months of gathering dust, my libido was apparently desperate to make up for lost time. "That had better be a promise," I said.

  "It is."