Page 58 of Possession

Our lips didn’t separate as he aligned himself within me again. He made love to me until all I could see, smell, and hear was him—until I fell asleep enveloped in strong arms, covered in his scent, in his warmth, and bathed in the pastel of the early morning sun as it trickled through his blinds.

Every muscle in my body was alive the next morning. My arms ached and my thighs burned. I was sore everywhere. Declan’s bathroom was chilly as I turned on the shower. I caught my reflection in the mirror and noticed that my skin was peppered with his touch. A few fingerprints here and there, but mostly on my hips and thighs. My chin was red, my cheeks were pink, and my hair was messy. I bit the corner of my lip trying to suppress my smile. I brought my hand to my collarbone and traced a line where he’d just kissed me not fifteen minutes ago. My eyes closed as I let myself remember the bristle of his beard on my overly sensitive skin, and the way we’d woken up together, snuggled beneath the comforter, my back still to his chest, drunk on each other and lack of sleep.

If I could I would’ve stayed with him in that bed all day, but at some point, reality won, and Liam banged on his door warning Declan that “his ass” better be to work in an hour.

The door to the bathroom opened and Declan walked in, shutting it behind him. He wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing and I admired him under the bright lights of the bathroom. The only trace of the boy I’d once known was evident in his lopsided smile as he, too, admired the view. I tried to comb my fingers through my hair, but it was pointless. His eyes trailed along my body, stopping at each mark he’d left behind. His smile wavered.

“They don’t hurt,” I reassured as I moved toward him.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Good,” he said with an exhale and then kissed my cheek before pulling back the shower curtain.

The small space of the shower was filled with steam and Declan. I huddled in front of him as the hot water hit my back, unraveling each knot. Declan’s hands covered my body with his soap, the brand the same as I’d remembered, as he washed me. His fingers worked against the muscles in my shoulders, his touch leaving me limp. I washed him as well, exploring his ink and his piercings. His body reacted as my fingers traced the V of his hips. Declan had always been quiet, but I liked that I could see how much my touch affected him. I could see it in the way his pupils dilated, the way his stomach twitched, and how his jaw pulsed, amongst other things. It was intoxicating knowing I made him feel as much as he did me.

He smiled as he leaned down and kissed me. Water trickled in past my lips as his tongue licked at the seam of my mouth. He groaned and rested his forehead against mine.

“I wish I didn’t have to work,” he said, and I laughed.

“You could come to The Gallery when you’re finished. The renter fell through, and I picked up a few of Chandler’s shifts if he promised to let me use the studio for a few days. I started something yesterday, on my down time at work. I haven’t had a chance to do much with it, but I’d like to show you.”

“I’m closing tonight, it wouldn’t be until after eleven.”

“That’s okay,” I said and gave him a broad smile. “I don’t work at all today, so I’ll probably go home and nap… I was up really late last night, I could use the rest.” My nose wrinkled as his lips slid into a slow smile.

“I’ll be there.” He leaned in and brushed his lips across mine before reaching behind me to shut off the water. “If we stay in here any longer, I’ll never make it to work.”

We dried off and he let me borrow one of his sweaters to wear home. The soft gray material would have hugged the wide breadth of his shoulders and fit snug along the washboard of his stomach, but it swallowed me. I brought the sleeve of it to my nose and inhaled the smell of his detergent. I lifted my eyes and caught him staring at me. He was relaxed, his mouth slightly curved at the side, in jeans and a dark blue, fitted sweater. The morning sun poured in through his open blinds. His hair seemed blonder under the light. Gold flecks highlighted his full beard. He was symmetry and stone, masculine and handsome.

We stood about ten feet apart, him on one side of his room, me on the other. I reached inside my jeans pocket and pulled out my hair tie.

“Leave it down,” he said softly.

“Why?” I narrowed my brows and placed the hair tie back in my pocket. The strands were starting to air dry in wild waves.

He moved toward me closing the distance. “Remember that time… it was spring, and we’d only been together since that winter. We’d gotten stuck in the sprinklers, out in the middle of the lawn at school. You were soaked, head to toe.”

I smiled as I remembered. He had laughed, and I had pouted, but he’d kissed me anyway, ignoring the frigid wet clothes.

“Your hair, by the end of the day, it had taken on its own life. It was waves of corn silk, and I remember the exact shade of yellow I’d painted you in that night.” His smile touched his eyes. “I was infatuated with you… and fuck…” He exhaled a long breath, and my heart skipped and hammered for him. “Looking at you…” He raised one of his hands and fingered a piece of my hair. “It’s like I’ve gone back in time.”

He pulled me into a hug, and his arms engulfed me. My cheek pressed against his chest. The rapid beat of his heart matched mine. “I remember.” I laughed and he let me lean back so I could look into his eyes. “It was a good day if you disregarded the soggy clothes we had to deal with for two whole periods. Wasn’t that the same day we made-out in the art supply closet and Mrs. Birch caught us.”

His head tilted back as he laughed, the full body sound of it filled my heart, and the last pieces of us, of who we’d been, of who we were, clicked into place.

“Yes. You used to make me so crazy for you.” He pushed a lock of my hair behind my ear.

“And now?” I teased.

The lids of his eyes lowered and that smoke, that unbridled darkness that was purely Declan filled his irises as his gaze fell to my mouth.

He kissed me until my knees felt weak.

He held my waist as he pulled away. “If anything, it’s worse now. You taste… different, and I can’t explain it, I’ve tried to reconcile it to a color, but it doesn’t exist. I want to stay here instead of going to work, indulge in it… in you.”

I laced my fingers through his and tugged. “You feel different… I love that your hands are strong and calloused in a way that scratches at the very root of what I need. You’re a man, Declan, and as much as I’ve lingered in the past, wishing for the boy, I’d rather have you… just like this.”

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