Page 67 of Jersey

Darkness coats me when I step inside his room, the blinds and blackout curtains denying the sun access to his space. I wonder if there are times he has to work late into the night, requiring him to sleep during normal waking hours, but before I can form a full thought, the bedroom door is slammed closed, and I'm pressed against it.

My heart is racing as his body aligns with mine, his breath on my neck.

"Is this okay?" he asks.

"Yes," I pant, in no position to have time to worry why his touch doesn't make me want to run for the hills like everyone else's does.

His teeth nip at my earlobe, making me moan with need and anticipation.

"So soft," he whispers as his hand cups my jaw.

I might actually die if the man kisses me. It's crazy to have experienced so much together without his lips ever meeting mine, but here we are.

His teeth scrape down my jaw, taking tiny nips at the skin of my throat.

His hands roam, gripping my arms and forcing them over my head before finding the hem of my shirt and lifting.

His breath is hot on my skin, coming out in puffs right next to my ear as his hand flattens on my stomach, the fingertips not wasting a second to push past the waistband of my leggings. Every muscle in my belly squeezes tight as he lowers his hand, the tips of his fingers skating right over the middle of me and making me gasp.

"Is this okay?"

"Y-yes," I pant, rolling my hips forward in an effort to make him touch me more.

His chuckle coats my skin, and for some reason, the tone of it scratches at something in the back of my mind. My body aches for what he has to offer, but there's just something about him right now. He feels distant, as if he's not right here with me experiencing the same thing.

"Do you want me to go get someone else?"

I freeze, my blood running cold with his words.

"What?" I snap, lowering my arms and pressing my palms flat to the door at my hips.

He takes a step back, his wet fingers coasting over my lower belly before he pulls them free.

"Isn't that what you like?" he asks, blinding me when he reaches and turns on a lamp. "You like lots of people with their hands all over you all the time. I can grab Zeus. I have no doubt the man wouldn’t turn you down."

"What is wrong with you?" I manage, all the while trying to choke down the threat of tears. "I don't want that at all."

"What do you want, Caitlyn?" he growls as if he's hated me his entire life and is just now having the chance to voice that animosity.

I'm floored by the sudden anger, but I'm also in touch enough with therapy to know that this probably has more to do with him than it does with me.

"I thought we were... I don't know... at the beginning of something," I manage, knowing I'm seconds away from what may be the biggest rejection of my life, but at the same time, I'd rather get the boot than keep up with something that isn't going to lead anywhere.

"This isn't that," he says, running a rough hand over the top of his head in frustration.

"You touching me is different," I confess. "Instead of wanting to crawl into a hole, I ache for your touch."

He looks away from me as if he can't bear to hear my confessions.

"I can't give you anything more than something physical, Caitlyn. I can fuck you all damn day, but it doesn't go further than that."

I know I've felt okay with his touch because there's something between us that is much deeper than that, something neither one of us understands, but I can't force this man to understand that when he isn't ready.

"I want more than that."

"I can't give it to you. I can't offer more than orgasms. I don't have anything else in me."

I highly doubt he's being honest, but there's a reason he's fighting this connection we have, and that's his issue to work through and not something I can fix for him.

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