Page 93 of Infinite

“You’re always what I need,” he whispers.

“Don’t make me cry,” I whisper, biting down on my lip. “I don’t want to do it anymore.”

The tears Hale causes are the good kind of tears, those I need so I don’t feel so vacant and alone. Maybe I should let them fall. But good and bad tears . . . I’ve cried them enough these past few hours. My well should have run dry by now. But there’s that misery, blurring my vision and threatening to split me apart in all those painful ways I don’t want it to.

Hale drags his tongue along my neck. He doesn’t tease my delicate spots, those still tingling and begging for his attention. That’s okay. The kiss that follows is enough and so is the way he touches me.

He lowers us to the mattress, straightening my legs when I can’t seem to find the will or strength.

My fatigue isn’t simply related to the past few hours, but perhaps to all those times with my family that aren’t worth remembering.

Hale props himself up, arranging my hair to the side when I don’t bother pushing it away from my face. Concern furrows his brow. He wraps us in a cool sheet and settles against me. It’s only then he speaks.

“I’m worried about you,” he admits.

“I don’t want you to be.” It’s true. Worrying about me and what my family said isn’t worth it. In time, with therapy and, possibly, medication, I’ll move on. I have to. This dysfunctional relationship with my family has gone on long enough.

He slides his hand down, ensuring that the sheet completely covers my back. “Doesn’t mean I’ll stop,” he replies.

“I know,” I whisper, smiling. “Which is why I never want to know life without you.”

Moonlight trickles in through the blinds, but dawn doesn’t feel too far away. I’m not sure what wakes me. I’m not cold. All I feel is warm and safe.

Hale’s arms cocoon me against him. His skin feels like silk, all the while possessing the strength of granite. I dip my head to press a kiss against his skin.

That’s when I hear it. Footsteps.

I gently shake Hale, a little harder when he doesn’t move. “Hale.Hale,” I whisper harshly.

He rolls on top of me and immediately positions himself between my legs. “Hi, baby,” he murmurs, kissing my ear.

I ignore pangs of need and the shivers his affections cause. “Hale, there’s someone in the house.”

His head lifts. “What?”

Something crashes downstairs. He leaps out of bed, yanking on his jeans. I gather the sheets against my breasts as he pulls out the gun he keeps in his nightstand.

“Stay here,” he orders.

I scoot to the edge of the bed, bunching the bed linens closer.

The door bursts open and Sean steps in, munching on a bowl of cereal. “Hey y’all,” he says.

“What the hell, Sean?” Hale hollers over the last bits of my screams.

Sean is clearly confused. “What?” he asks. “It’s not like we don’t know you’re fucking.”

Hale and I exchange glances as Rosie and Sam swarm in. Their tails wag and they’re panting, evidently excited to see us.

“Dem nice dogs you got here. They didn’t even bark when we came in.” Sean sits on the edge of the bed and takes another spoonful of what might or might not be shredded wheat.

“We?” Hale asks.

“Mason’s here, too.”

“Hey y’all,” Mason’s deep voice booms from the hallway.

“He didn’t want me to come in. Said something about it being rude or in poor taste. I don’t know. Something like that.”

---