Page 24 of Anders and the Girl Worth Fighting For
Her breathing calmed, but she didn’t pull back immediately. My hands continued their calming circuit. I wasn’t sure how long we were there. Her sitting on the bed, me kneeling at her feet, my arms wrapped around her. I was content to keep her there as long as she wanted to stay. Eventually, though, she pulled back and I reluctantly let her go.
“Sorry,” she said. Her eyes were slightly red-rimmed with unshed tears. She brought one shaking hand up and wiped at them. I wanted to reach out and hold them, steady them.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” I said. I tried to give her my most charming smile to help ease her. I’d noticed how she had responded to it before and hoped she would respond the same now.
I continued to kneel there. No longer holding her, but unable to move away. Our eyes met and held, the green in her, barely discernible in the low light from the open door.
I was the worst kind of bastard seeing her so vulnerable and thinking that she looked enchanting and perfect in the low light, so close to me, staring at me with awe and trust. Her gaze dropped to my lips and her mouth fell open, just slighty. I had to know her taste.
Fuck.
I leaned into her, powerless to stop.
“Grace.”
My hand moved to her face, and I cupped her jaw, my thumb itching to trace her lips.
Chapter Eleven
Grace,” he said. His voice came out pained. Almost a whisper. His eyes traced my tongue as I licked my lips and he groaned, so low I felt it more than heard it.
He kneeled so close that his breath mingled with mine. He raised his hand slowly. Like he was afraid to touch me, like I was precious and he didn’t want to break me. When he did finally touch me, his hand was like a brand on my cheek, heavy and hot. I could see indecision in his eyes and a bit of fear.
I wasn’t having any of that. I moved that last inch. Leaned into him, into his touch. The thrill of it ran down my spine as my lips touched his. I ached for this man.
A moan escaped me as his once hesitant hand wove itself in my hair and pulled me in closer. My arms, with a mind of their own, traced their way across his broad shoulders. The shoulders I wanted to touch the first moment I saw him. The shoulders that gladly took on my burdens. I traced his bottom lip with my tongue and wanted to push through, to taste him.
“Wait. Wait,” Anders said as he pulled back, his hand still tangled in my hair. Disappointment crowded out the fire and arousal that his kiss brought on. I couldn’t look him in the eye. I knew what was coming. I heard it all before.
“Hey, no. No, it’s nothing bad.” His hand moved down to my chin, much more sure this time, and tilted my head back up toward him. I didn’t realize tears swam in my eyes until his faceblurred and then they poured down all at once. “I’m so sorry. I’m messing this all up.” His finger brushed away a tear as it tracked down my cheek. I didn’t realize I had stopped breathing until the moment I drew in a breath, my body desperate for air. I was drowning in a decade of subtle rejections under the guise of Christian purity.
I couldn’t respond to him. The floodgates had opened. I expected disgust, frustration, anger, anything but him simply pulling me in for a hug and letting me cry for as long as I needed. I wanted to claw at my chest and rip my skin right off it just so I could get a bit of air, but the gentle pressure of his hug held it all in. Like being wrapped in the best blanket. Like he could squeeze my soul back into my body.
Eventually, I could distinguish his breathing from mine and used his calm, steady breaths to regulate my own. In and out, and my shoulders fell. In and out, and my face burrowed into his neck.
The subtle scent of him further grounded me, reminding me of a technique my cousin taught me. I didn’t open my eyes to count the things I could see, but I could count the things I could hear. The tick of a clock. The low hum of air conditioning. The chirp of a bird. A door closing down the hall. I could count the things I could smell. His fresh sweat. The leftover pizza from our dinner. A floral scent that I recognized as my shampoo. I could count the things I could taste. The slight garlic flavor that was sprinkled on the crust of the pizza. The mint of the toothpaste he used that had transferred to me in the kiss.
Which brought me back to our mistake.
I’m much more clear-headed, so it didn’t send me into another panic attack, but it prompted me to pull away and create some much needed space between us.
“I cried all over you. I’m sorry,” I said. Which sounded lame and not at all what I wanted to say. You’re amazingandI’membarrassedandI’m a messandI don’t know when anyone has ever let me do that beforeandI was always able to control myself when I cried and save it for the shower. Why is it different with you?All competed for space on my tongue, trying to push out and bare myself to this man I hardly knew. On second thought, perhaps it’s good I didn’t say those things.
“Never apologize for that. You get to have feelings and from what I’ve gathered, you have plenty of reason to have lots of them,” he said. His voice was deep and resonant as he brushed my hair back from my face. I didn’t even realize it had come loose. Which brought me to my second problem: the post-cry red eyes, puffy face, snot, and dried tears, grossness that was probably my face right now.
I needed to escape, run to the bathroom, hide, but the look in his eyes caught me off guard. It was… tender. The big bad marine looked at me like I was worth seeing, like he didn’t dare look away, like I might break, but that was ok because he would stay by me, even if I became a version of myself that had never existed before.Oh.
Panic and pain burned away my earlier lust, but in its place blossomed something unexpected and new. Hope and acceptance, maybe. It was too new, too fragile to play with it and figure out what it was, but it was there. A bright little speck in the otherwise foggy, drab landscape of me.
“Ok,” I whispered back, still afraid to shatter that new brightness inside myself. A small smile, as small as that light, tried to take shape on my lips, tremulous at first, but grew when he grinned in response. I didn’t realize how close we still were until he sat back on his legs and took my hand in his larger and warmer ones. It was comforting.
“I didn’t pull back because I didn’t want to kiss you. I wanted nothing more than to kiss you and kiss you and kiss you until the world stopped spinning. I pulled back because I didn’t want totake advantage of you.” He ran his finger along my cheek as he said this. His eyes trained on me. The intensity of his gaze was almost too much to bear.
“I kissed you,” I reminded him.
“That’s right, you did,” he said. He still didn’t move to kiss me again. He just stared at me with that inscrutable look on his face. “You don’t have to, though. I want you to know that. You have my help, regardless.”
“You think I only want to kiss you because I think you won’t help me if I don’t?” I asked. I had pulled back a little at that and his hand dropped. The sudden lack of contact was jarring, but it had to be done.
