by Nora Flite
I felt her tremble, her jugular throbbing. “I... Can you see them, still?”
“What?” I asked gently, tasting the sensitive part of her neck by her earlobe.
Leah gasped, pushing into me eagerly. “My bruises, can you see them at all, still?”
Lifting my head, I held her chin, staring into her worried eyes. “I don't see anything but you, Leah, so why does it matter?”
“Just look,” she whispered, sounding more emotional than I expected. “For me, look.”
She doesn't want me to pretend it never happened.
I didn't hesitate; I couldn't, not for her. Easily, I tilted her jaw, revealing her length of neck to the dim barn lamps. There, in the almost darkness, I couldn't see a single mark. “Nothing,” I said, breathing on her flesh, kissing where the yellowed bruises had been. “Not a one.”
Leah moaned, hugging me tightly against her. The tops of her smooth breasts pressed into my chest; I yanked my shirt off the rest of the way to feel more.
Holding her close, my finger tips rolled across her shoulder blades. The hook of her bra was easy enough to dispatch, the strap almost too loud in the sanctity of our private world.
Sighing, she leaned away, slipping her lingerie off so it could join her discarded shirt. Even in the low lights, seeing the woman I adored almost nude... it set my skin tingling.
Running a finger down her sternum, I listened to her gasp. It was encouraging, knowing she loved my touch so much. “Seriously, you're amazing,” I said softly.
“Shut up,” she chided me, pushing me down to the blanket gently. Straddling me, she lifted herself enough to slide her cotton pants down her knees. “I don't want to take my boots off,” she mumbled, glancing down at me. “Is that okay?”
“Of course,” I assured her, chuckling at her decision. “If you're able to do this much, I'm sure it won't be an issue.”
Grinning sideways, Leah sat over me, giving me a good look at everything. Her panties would have matched her bra if she was still wearing them.
Bending down, she lay across me, meeting my hungry mouth with her own ferociousness. Our tongues swirled, exploring behind our lips like it was the first time we'd kissed.
It feels like forever, since we had such a moment.
Gripping her hips, I pushed her against me, enjoying the feel of her pelvis grinding against my swelling arousal.
Fumbling, I reached down my side, unable to reach my pocket with my jeans bunched around my knees. Leah, sensing what I was going for, broke the kiss with a sad groan.
Sitting up, she kept rolling her hips against me, until I was grunting with frustrated pleasure. “I don't think I can take much of that,” I admitted.
Leah dug into my pocket, pulling my wallet out. With a glance at me for my permission, she unfolded it, finding the wrapped condom in one of the gashes. “This isn't, you know, frozen, right?”
“No,” I laughed, shaking my head. “I hope not, anyway.”
As she tore it open, she slid her palm down, feeling my rigid length where it pushed eagerly against my boxers. Closing my eyes, I hissed in a moment of passion.
The air felt welcome on my sweltering flesh, bared to the light when Leah slid the cloth down. Touching me, her grip tight, she rolled the condom over my member.
I motioned her down to me, kissing her plump lips with a sigh. “Are you sure you're ready enough for this? I just want—”
“Shh,” she whispered, reaching between our bodies to aim me into her most private of places. Any question I had was removed the second I was engulfed in her damp heat.
Quivering, she tucked her face into my shoulder, my hand finding her lower back. Together, we moved, arching into a steady pace that met both of our needs.
Leah, I love you, I just want to say it to you. Why, even now, can't I just...
Grunting, I flexed into her gripping thighs. She was riding me, wild with her desire and out of my control. I let her go, meeting her strokes and letting her take the lead.
It wasn't long before we were both gasping, our cries drowned out only by the raw blizzard that clawed to get into the barn.
“Deacon,” she gasped, her lips pressing into the hollow of my throat. “Deacon, god, I just... I...”
“I know,” I said, and I wondered if I did.
With our bodies writhing together, the world consisting of nothing but each other and the beat of our hearts, I thought I might just know what she felt.
I truly hoped it was the same thing as me.
“Aah!” I growled, pushing my head into the hard floor as my muscles strained. On top of me, I felt Leah convulse, her body hitting the point of no return.
With the sounds she made in my ear, her wet pants, I was quick to follow.
For a long moment, yet still not long enough, we lay there in the barn and simply held each other. Every cell felt alive, my body aching in exhausted relaxation.
The heat faded as we lay still, cool air running over our damp flesh. Leah's teeth chattered, so I wrapped the blankets back around us.
“I needed that,” I murmured into her ear, nuzzling the mussed swirls of her silky hair.
She breathed in sharply, hugging me like I might vanish at any moment. “God, me too. You have no idea.”
“I have some idea,” I said, chuckling.
Tracing the indents of her back, her muscles flexing under my seeking hands, I sighed. Everything felt right again, my world returning to stillness like a snow globe that had been shook violently.
As long as I had Leah, as long as she was with me...
Everything simply made sense.
-Part 2-
Leah Rook
Chapter 16.
The stairs conspired to creak louder with each step I was taking. I didn't know Deacon's Grandparents' house well enough to predict which steps were firmer and which would give me away.
My goal was to slip into the room I'd been assigned, get my pajamas on, and get to sleep without anyone hearing me.
Slamming my toe into the top step, just before I crossed the threshold into the bedroom, ruined my chances.
“Shit!” I hissed, covering my mouth. Ugh, awesome. I'm the best ninja ever. Gripping the knob, finding the door cracked open, I gave it a gentle push.
Bethany was sitting up on the other bed, the small lamp on the table illuminating a book she was reading. Her amazingly blue eyes flicked up, spotting me. “Hey,” she said. “You okay? Nicholas told me you and Deacon were fine, I mean, but still... You know?”
“Uh,” I said, feeling suddenly very stupid. “Yes. Fine, just banged my toe.” And spent the last hour out in the barn with Deacon. Which, I guess, Bethany kind of knew thanks to that humiliating phone call with Nicholas. Checking up on us, I know the intent was good, but...
Touching my temple, something sharp pricked me. I pulled out a piece of straw, crushing it in my palm; it was still damp from the heavy snow fall.
Blushing, praying she wouldn't notice, I smoothed my hair. “Mind if I hop in the shower quick? Will it keep you awake?”
“Not at all,” she shrugged, offering me a mild smile.
I still can't decide if she likes me, or if she's faking.
The bathroom was attached to the bedroom we were sharing. Grabbing some clothes to sleep in, I quickly hurried to shut the door and get the shower going.
I wasn't satisfied until everything was covered in a blinding cloud of steam. That was when I knew the water would be perfect.
Scrubbing myself down, I hung my chin low, long dark hair rolling over my shoulders. Everything felt... good. Great, even, if I let myself believe it.
Everything that had happened with Deacon, from the moment we'd met his family, had left me confused. Learning how he had been struggling with keeping the peace with them while juggling how I might be feeling allowed me to find comfort.
He was just worried about everything. I can understand that.
It was especially easy when I considered the fact that I was about
to embark with him on a similar trip.
With the roles reversed, now, that is. I'll have to call my parents in the morning... this means we'll get to spend Christmas together! I wonder... I hope, anyway, that they'll like Deacon.
More so, I hope he likes them.
My stomach trembled, knotting at the impending event. I wondered how they had been, if they were doing better.
What if they were doing worse?
Deacon had amazed me with his ability to narrow in on how I was thinking. Even when I, myself, wasn't exactly sure.
He was wrong, though, in assuming I'd only been thinking about my parents because of the holidays. They'd been on my mind since Owen had attacked me.
I'd gone back and forth with the idea of borrowing Deacon's phone, just calling them up and breaking the silence.
It had gone on too long, though.
I saw the parallel in myself, abandoning them the way I had thought they'd done to me when I was a teen.
The guilt was too heavy, strangling me into inaction when I seriously debated talking to them. I hadn't had any contact in almost two months, what would they even think?
If I told them about Owen, would they be angry I hadn't informed them about the assault immediately?
Thinking about this again is just going to put me in circles. I won't know anything until I talk to them, brooding on it any more is useless.
Especially since I'll be finding out soon enough.
Turning off the water, I stepped out onto the cool tile. The towel felt good on my pink skin. Wiping the mirror, I studied my neck closely.
Deacon said he hardly noticed these bruises.
Hiding them with makeup had helped my confidence. However, there was something cathartic in seeing the marks, being reminded of what they meant.
The nightmares from that attack were awful. Now, though, it's almost a badge of honor.
To me, those bruises meant I'd faced the monster I'd been running from. I'd gone up against it, and though I'd been hurt badly, I'd survived.
That was all that mattered.
Tugging on my old Killer Sons band shirt, as well as a thick pair of flannel sweat pants, I wrapped my hair in the towel. The air outside of the bathroom was chilly in comparison.
Bethany was still awake, in the middle of turning a page when she looked up at me.
Nervous under her gaze, I spoke fast. “It's really hot in there, just a warning.”
Her golden hair slipped over her neck, following the motion of her curious head tilt. “Is that a Killer Sons shirt?”
“Um,” I said, looking down at it. “Yeah. You know them?”
“Sort of,” she mused, a little embarrassed. “Nicholas likes them a lot.”
“Huh, weird, so does Deacon.” Laughing, I sat on my mattress, folding my legs under me. “Maybe it runs in the family?”
“Possibly. If I'm honest, I don't really like them, myself.” Shutting the book, she folded her hands over the cover lightly. “Too rough for me. I like smoother music.”
Nodding, I hung my head down, scrubbing it with the towel as I talked. “It's kind of funny, I really like how intense they are. But, one time, I heard a version that was much more... calm, serenading, even.”
When I flipped my hair back, frizzy strands flying, I found Bethany staring at me, face drained of blood. “You saw the video of that performance?”
“I—what?” Baffled, I sat there as damp strands tickled my cheeks.
“The... you are talking about... about Deacon singing, right?” She said his name in a whisper, like he might somehow appear when summoned. Bethany suddenly began turning crimson, it washed up to her forehead.
The chilly prickles in my chest made me feel dizzy. “I am, actually. How do you know about that?”
“How do you know about that?” She didn't sound accusing, she truly looked mortified. “I'd think he'd know better than to show that to... to...”
To me. What would he know better than to show to me?
Shaking my head, I pushed my hair back from my eyes. “Why wouldn't he sing in front of me?”
Her jaw clacked shut, audibly, at my question.
The slow burn of intuition crawled up my spine. “You're talking about something else, aren't you? This isn't about Deacon singing at karaoke, is it.”
Covering her eyes, Bethany offered a weak, shaking laugh. “You're saying you heard him sing a version of a Killer Sons song at karaoke?”
“Yes, he sang...” He sang my favorite song, and it was amazing. It felt like he'd done it just for me, but how could he have known I loved that one so much? “He sang one, and he did it very differently than the original went.”
“Oh, God. I feel awful. Sorry, please forget I said anything.”
What the hell is she not telling me?
Sitting up, I gripped my knees, hunching low as if bracing myself. “Bethany, I'm not going to lie. I'm freaking out a little right now, and I don't think putting this conversation in a box is going to help me there. Just tell me what you're talking about, please.”
Her pink lips spread, silence whispering forth. Clearing her throat, searching for her voice, Bethany tried again. “I don't know if you want to hear about the time... you know... I mean, it was years ago.”
My paranoia was already jabbing at my brain, squeezing my lungs so my breathing came quicker. “The time that what?”
Ruffling her blonde hair, she sighed loudly. “The time Deacon asked me to date him.”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I tried to relax my shoulders. “What does that have to do with the Killer Sons?”
“Well, I admittedly didn't know who they even were at the time. Deacon entered us into the school talent contest. I guess he thought us singing a version of a song by a newish, up and coming band would really work for the crowd.”
My tongue felt fat, it filled my mouth. “Which song did you guys sing together?”
Blinking, Bethany let her eyes wander from their fog of nostalgia, to my pale expression. “The song? Oh, uh, Rain Flow.”
Rain Flow. He sang Rain Flow with her.
“Are you alright?” Her voice seemed far away.
Lifting my head, I made myself smile through my waves of sickness. “Yeah, sorry. Uh, did you guys win that contest?”
“No,” she shrugged, wrinkling her nose. “I still think if Deacon had worked a little bit harder, we'd have put on a better show.” Her blue eyes flicked to me, taking in the color of my skin. “Um. Never mind any of that. Are you sure you're alright? It was stupid to bring that up, I'm thinking.”
“Oh, no,” I said, waving my hands in front of me. “Uh, it's just a little weird. This will sound strange, I know that even before I say it, but when I heard Deacon sing Rain Flow the way he did...”
It made me want him. After having struggled to convince myself to forget him, to not bother, that night when he sang... I felt it. I felt like he was singing to me.
And now I know he sang that way with Bethany.
Unable to finish my sentence, I closed my mouth, eyeing my palms.
“He's a good singer,” Bethany said abruptly. “And a good guy, in general.”
I lifted my eyes, heart thumping with distress.
“You don't need to explain how you felt,” she hurried on. “I understand. But look, that whole thing with me and him... we were kids. That song isn't even special to me.”
I don't care about that, I need to know if it was special to him.
Staring at my fingers, I picked at a nail. “We shouldn't be going down this road, but we're here already. Can I ask you why you broke up with him?”
“Oh.”
Her simple word gave me a flutter of shame. Wincing, I slid to the edge of the bed, imploring her with my eyes. “Sorry, I shouldn't be asking this.”
“Probably not,” she agreed, her voice light, thoughtful. Her lashes caressed her cheeks when she closed her eyes. “Why did I break up with him... Did he never tell you? Did it just not come up?”
/>
“He definitely doesn't like to talk about it. He told me that it had to do with the distance.” He told me he was scared I'd move away and he'd have to go through similar pain all over again.
Lifting the book from her lap, she set it on the bedside table by the lamp. “That was part of it. Long distance is hard, even with the strongest of couples.” Looking at me, she considered her words. “I'm not sure we were as strong as that.”
“Did you—did you love him?”
“That's blunt,” she frowned. “Yes, I did love him. But not... everything, or maybe just not enough.” Laughing bitterly, she rubbed at the corners of her eyes. “Sorry, this is making me sound terrible. We were high school sweethearts, aren't those supposed to be the ideal? Don't they always work out in the movies?”
Thinking about my own first boyfriend, I wasn't sure I agreed.
“Anyway,” she said, not waiting for my answer, “Deacon and I just had different ideals, different goals. Maybe I just didn't believe he could make things work out, he always seemed on the edge of falling apart... of letting his dreams get the better of him...” She stared at me, eyes made from melting ice. “I think I might have been wrong. But hindsight doesn't matter much when you fall in love with someone else. Or, well, if your ex falls in love with someone different.”
My heart throbbed, hearing her utter those words. Does she think Deacon... that he loves me?
“When did you know you were in love with Nicholas?” I blurted, embracing the change of subjects.
Bethany seemed relieved, her eyebrows smoothing as she gave a self-conscious laugh. “What a question. I'm not positive, I guess I sort of realized it recently.”
“When did you guys start...?”
“June,” she mused, looking upwards. “The end of June. It's been six months now, hasn't it?”
That long... maybe it is weird for me to already think I'm in love with Deacon, so fast.
Or maybe not... if he really loves me, too.
How can I know? Do I just need to tell him, take the risk?
Inhaling slowly, I fell back on my pillows. My body and mind both felt drained of energy. “So, then you've told him?”
