Page 28 of If Only You Hurt

She squeezes my hand as the show is coming to an end. There are loud sounds and unexpected movements, but thankfully, it hasn’t startled her in the way I feared. Luckily, the moment the show began, she leaned into the experience. It helps that no sudden movements from the crowd, along with sounds beyond the stage, have occurred.

Laney does not react well to loud sounds that come out of nowhere. She’s had moments of pure terror from a simple car backfiring or screaming in a crowded place. Moments like those seem to paralyze her from the inside, and when she first started her recovery process, seeing her pull back and withdraw into herself gutted me.

Once the show is over, I stay with her in our seats as people make their way around us. I know she likes to wait, not standing in the aisle where she feels trapped and confined to the movements of others. As I sit there, I hear Laney humming the music we just finished listening to. I take her in, all her mannerisms and movements next to me, while she moves through these moments, not realizing how she defines mine.

“Did you enjoy it, Bean?” I move my hand down her arm, needing to feel her skin against mine.

I wish I could say that after sleeping together in California, we were able to find a rhythm together, but it’s still a work in progress. I made my feelings clear to her that night leaving the bar a few months back, but we haven’t really taken the time to go back to that conversation.

I thought we were moving in the direction of finally being together, especially after I pretty much laid my heart out that cold November night. But that hasn’t quite been the case. She loves me as much as I love her, but she’s hesitant. When we’re together, everything feels right, but when I go out on a job and return, it feels like I have to take so many steps forward to get us back to where we were.

Whatever is holding her back, I have yet to figure it out. I am giving her space, not pushing her in a way that would make her feel forced to be with me. I want to be her choice, not her expectation. In many ways, I feel like I’m transported to thirteen years ago at prom when I wanted to profess my love for her but feared ruining what we had.

“Grant, it was, uh, magical.” I had no idea her smile could get any bigger, but I was wrong. She’s radiant right now, and I wish I could bottle up these moments for when I'm miles away and missing her warmth.

I kiss her cheek and I hear her take a breath in, maybe more affected by my touch than I gave her credit for. She turns her head then and allows her lips to meet mine. The kiss is quick but enough to ignite all my synapses to attention.

We move from our seats once the auditorium is easier to exit from and make our way through. Laney is rushing more than I expected, and she starts to speed walk toward the restrooms. Although she loved the performance, she got up multiple times to use the bathroom. She blamed the excessive amounts of water after doing yoga this morning. I have no idea how much she drank, but it must have been a wheelbarrow with the number of times I saw her get up.

As she’s rushing in front of me, she yells, “I’ll be right out. I’ll meet you out here in a second.”

Red hair flying behind her, she’s gone in an instant. I pull my phone out and order an Uber. I then pocket the phone, and I look up to check my surroundings.

I look to my left, scanning the sea of people, and I swear I feel eyes on me. I keep moving my gaze from left to right, trying to bury my unease, but I can’t shake it. I’m still processing it when I feel a hand wrap around my bicep.

“Hey. Sorry. I think the older I get, the smaller my bladder. Ready to go? I’m wiped.” We make our way through and out the doors into the cold January chill.

Laney has been a little off recently. She spent time on and off the last few weeks feeling under the weather. I think she’s overdoing it with her teaching schedule, especially now that she has started teaching hot yoga a few times a week.

I’ve told her to call her doctor and get checked, as whatever she has is consuming her days and not really letting up. She keeps fighting me, saying she doesn’t need to see anyone and that her body is simply tired from the extra hours in the studio. I know her real hesitation is the idea of possibly having to go into a hospital. Since the shooting, she hates going into them.

Once we get outside, it’s a hassle to figure out which Uber is ours, but we finally find the correct one and make our way back to the house. The drive home is easy, even with the tourists roaming the streets of this city that always seems to be awake.

We find Ellie and my sister in the kitchen, laughing their heads off. The moment we walk in, I can tell there’s something to their chatter. It takes a bit to get Ellie to confess, but she finally admits to a person she just started seeing. But the most shocking part about it is the fact that she’s not just dating anyone; she’s with Xander Christianson. I nearly pass out when she says his name.

I am a lover of all sports, but when Xander was playing hockey, I really paid attention. Watching him glide on that ice looked seamless in so many ways. It was obvious his life revolved around the sport.

Of course, I want to press Ellie to introduce us, but it seems, much like her sister, she’s not putting a label on whatever this is with them. I guess time will tell.

We say our goodnights and head upstairs.

The moment we close the door behind us, Laney jumps into my arms. On instinct, I wrap my arms around her, her legs automatically coming around my hips and locking behind me. She pulls her hands through my hair and kisses me with so much passion, I’m having trouble thinking straight.

I turn us around and lean her against the door, devouring her mouth while I feel her moving her hands down toward my shoulders. I bring one of my hands up her ribs and cup her breast in my hand. I pinch her nipple, and I swallow her moan as I continue to kiss her.

I’m fumbling to get us to the bed, my cock eager for whatever is about to happen. I’ve longed for her touch in so many ways that I feel greedy with need. I’ve let her set the speed for whatever this is between us, and all I feel is relief knowing she feels this desire to connect with me the same way I long for it with her.

I lay her on the bed and slowly start to peel her clothes off her. Once I get to her bra and panties, I nearly tear them off her. She starts pulling at my belt buckle, unbuttoning my pants, and pulling them off, my boxers following. I unbuttoned my shirt and slipped it off while she was removing the bottom half of my clothing. I pull at the back of my neck and hike my undershirt over my head.

I stand there, both of us panting, and I admire the beautiful creature in front of me. Her fair skin in contrast to my olive tones. Her lips swollen from our connection earlier, her red hair wild from us trying to devour one another.

Now, I simply take her in. I see the desire swimming in her gaze. I bite my bottom lip, thinking about what part of her I want first.

I lick my lips, and I can see her writhe under me, only getting more turned on.

Like a lion on the prowl, I begin to approach her, my hands resting on the bed, my eyes taking her in as she leans back. Once she’s fully prone on the bed, I kiss her neck and begin to trail kisses down toward her breasts. I suck a nipple in my mouth, and she arches her back, moaning a bit too loudly while there are others in this house.

I pop right off and look up at her.

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