Page 268 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
“All my stuff got diverted. There weren’t any letters from you.”
Dollancie:
To where?
“To Shane’s parents’ house. I moved in with him. I couldn’t stay here.”
A disbelieving smile widens my mouth enough for my missing tooth to greet Dollie. Of course, it’s that fucker.
Maybe it’s stupidity on my part, but I figured they’d have moved in together later, and Dollie would have stayed with someone she knew better, like Annabelle.
Surprise widens her eyes and mouth. “You think Shane? Wh—why would he do that? He knew I was pining for you. Why would he want to hurt me like that by hiding your letters?”
Dollancie:
I didn’t send that letter, Dollie. If it looked official, it’s because he had opened all the others and saw how it was meant to look. Maybe even saw things that should have stayed between us.
“But why would he just make that up? Why use Mom to hurt me like that? Why would he be so cruel? He can’t be so cruel! He knew I was struggling with your sentence.”
She’s rambling, spiraling, but she still needs to know the truth.
It wasn’t me who sent that letter.
Dollancie:
And that’s why he did it, Dollie.
He never liked our bond. He still does anything he can to keep you away from me.
Tossing the phone back on the sofa, I move back to her as she sits silently. My hands brush over her tear-stained face, wiping away her emotions.
“He can’t be that awful.” She sobs, all her words coming out broken.
But he is, and I need her to believe me. To believe that no matter what’s been done in the past, I did it all for her. That I’d never hurt her. Never leave her willingly or threaten her life.
All those emotions, desires, and promises sit in my mouth, and I’m unable to say them. I only have one other way for her to taste the truth.
I lean in, hands still on her face as my lips meet hers.
Her eyes stay open, staring into my soul.
Tell me you want this. Do something to show me.
I still fucking need you, and I tremble with how much.
Her soft, pouty lips part and close around my bottom lip. I relax into this and start soft, my tongue slipping past her pretty lips. It’s not enough. It’s thirteen years of something that feels too much like a tragic love story, and it comes out in this kiss that we shouldn’t be having.
Our eyes close in harmony, and my free hand drops to her waist. I tip my head, granting myself deeper access. My fingers leave her face, weaving through her hair, burying themselves in pink waves.
She moans, and it triggers something deep inside me. Those memories from yesterday and something feral that I should have let sleep, because now she’s beneath me, and my tongue is still deep in her mouth, more passionate and needy and messier than before. Her nails scrape gently over my skin as she pulls me closer, making me aware that she wants this too. That we’re both done fighting this.
Her legs glide up my sides, and I reach for them, sliding my hand up the back of her thigh, lifting her and pressing into her center, where she’s warm and inviting. I rock my hips, grinding into her, and that noise comes again.
And it’s almost too much.
And I’m about to blow it all.
I’m about to blow.
