Page 87 of She Was Made for Me

He lets out a groan, stepping away and withdrawing from me. I’m instantly hollow at the loss of him, but he lowers himself onto the sofa beside me, gathering me onto his lap, and I swing a leg over to straddle him, guiding him back inside me.

“I want you to come again,” he says, his hot breath tickling my lips. “Ride me, sweetheart.”

Honestly, at this point I’d do anything he asks.

I lower myself fully onto his length, sighing at how hard he is, at how well he fills me. He dips his head to take my nipple in his mouth, sending a zing to my core when he pulls it roughly between his teeth. He feels so good at this angle that I can’t help but take my time, slowly moving myself up and down his shaft, reveling in the sensation of him filling me so completely. We fit together in a way I’ve never fit with anyone, and before I can stop myself, I say,

“Iwasmade for you.”

Kyle’s gaze meets mine from under hooded lids, his cheeks flushed as I work myself on him. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it, swallowing the words. My heart flutters at the way his eyes become intense as they search mine, at what he might have been going to say. I hold my breath, waiting for him to find the words, but instead he captures my mouth with his, pouring everything he feels into a scorching kiss. His hands cradle my head as he thrusts up into me, our breaths mingling with a sudden desperation that wasn’t there a moment ago.

God, everything about this man makes me weak. I’m in over my head and I don’t know how to get out. I don’twantto get out. I want to drown in him. I try to focus on the physical sensations as our bodies move together in a frantic rhythm, but my chest aches too much. I wasn’t supposed to fall this hard and now it’s too late. It’s way too late.

“I love watching you ride my cock,” Kyle rasps, eyes hazy as he rocks up into me. “I love it. I love…Fuck,” he curses quietly to himself, the movement of his hips stilling, the haziness in his eyes clearing as he swallows hard, focusing on me properly. “I loveyou, Violet. I love you so damn much it hurts.”

My heart stops. For a split second, I think I’ve imagined him saying those words, but the vulnerability in his expression tells me I heard right.

He loves me.

“I…” The words catch in my throat.

He loves me.

His hand smooths my hair tenderly. “You don’t have to say anything back,” he murmurs, but I shake my head, needing him to know.

“I love you too.” I stroke a hand softly over his bearded cheek, huffing a tiny laugh. “It wasn’t part of my plan, but I fell in love with you anyway.”

The relief in his eyes tells me everything I need to know. He bared his heart to me, not knowing whether I’d say it back, but hearing those words from him makes my heart fill my chest. How could I not love him?

Then his mouth is on mine again, our kiss imbued with a new depth as we hold each other close and move together. This time when I come he follows, clutching me to him like he never wants to let me go.

35

Kyle

The pounding of my heart wakes me. I’d dreamed I was back in court, but instead of being the attorney I once was, I was the one on the stand, being cross-examined by Rich, no less. I couldn’t speak. Literally, my mouth didn’t work, in that strange way that happens in dreams. The funny thing is, Rich was trying to prove my innocence, but I knew I was guilty and when they told me I was free to go, my legs wouldn’t move. Rich was leaving without me, and I was stuck. Panic clutched at my chest, waking me in a cold sweat.

I lurch up in bed, groping the covers around me for… I don’t know what. It’s only when I see the plaster details on the ceiling above me, the soft orange glow of a nearby street lamp falling through the open window, that I remember where I am.

Not in court. Not with Rich. I’m on an air mattress in his house in Brooklyn Heights, with his daughter sound asleep beside me.

I take a moment to calm down, doing the deep breathing exercises I’ve perfected over the years. In: one, two, three, four. Hold: one, two, three, four. Out: one, two, three, four. Hold: one, two, three, four. Repeat. Box breathing, it’s called.

Once my hands have stopped trembling and my heart has ceased hurling itself against my ribcage, I reach for my phone to check the time. Five in the morning. Too early for Violet to be up, but I know I won’t get back to sleep. Not after being woken by what I’m certain was the start of a panic attack. The first in years.

I climb gingerly from the mattress, trying not to wake her. She rolls over, snuggling into her pillow with a soft sigh. My heart sighs in response. God, I love this woman.

I pace the floor, feeling that anxious energy inside me, like a coiled snake ready to pounce. My ears are ringing again like they do when I’m stressed. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that ignoring this feeling will lead to more trouble.

There’s only one thing for it.

I pull on my running shorts and tank, stuff my earbuds in, and lace my shoes. The morning air is balmy when I step outside, typical of this time of year. It might be pre-dawn, but the heat clings to the city streets, making it feel suffocating no matter the time of day. It occurs to me that as much as I might want to stay in the city with Violet, I’d still rather spend my summers at the lake. Maybe we could find a way to have both.

This idea percolates in my mind as I turn onto Cranberry Street, heading for Columbia Heights. Already I’m feeling better, just from moving my body. In fact, I can almost forget what woke me. The dream that made it abundantly clear what a terrible friend I am. The familiar feeling of panic as my body tried to warn me that something was wrong.

I cross Columbia Heights, coming to the Fruit Street Sitting Area, adjacent to the Promenade. The first fingers of dawn reach across the sky, and on the other side of the East River Manhattan is stirring. I sink onto one of the park benches, taking in the view as my breathing settles.

I can’t forget the dream. I can’t ignore the message from my body. As much as I’d like to, I know I can’t keep living like this.

---