Page 50 of His Gift
"Holy fuck, Harper. That's it. Just stop me if I'm hurting you." He gives me a few shallow thrusts before moving faster and faster and I come again, screaming even louder. I want to stand on my arms and match his effort, but I can't. I'm light-headed and useless, good only for one thing: coming as I've never done before. Moaning, screaming until I have no voice.
"You'll be the death of me, sweet girl." Conrad stills, coming inside me with a feral growl, his cum leaking out of me. Then he helps me turn around and moves all the sweaty strands from my face. "Are you okay?"
I snort. "Define okay."
"Does your hip hurt?" I make a quick mental check, but no. It doesn't hurt at all. Or I'm so pumped with hormones that I don't feel it. I shake my head, turning on my good side to snuggle into his welcoming arms. I like to be here. I like it way too much.
"You're beautiful, my gift. All satisfied and well fucked, you're the best thing in the world." Am I? I want to believe him, but when will he tire of being the one doing all the work? When will he see there are plenty of women out there less complicated than I am to love? Maybe now that he has opened the faucet, he'll be able to feel something for other people. Maybe once he's had his fill, he'll change his mind.
"Why are you so tense?"
No way in hell I'm going to tell him. "Coming down from the high."
"Sure. If I didn't know you, I'd believe you. But you're relaxed and soft when you're coming down from your orgasms. So, want to try again?"
"No."
"How can I make this work, Harper, if you won't open up? The only time I get to see you willingly giving in to me is when we have sex. It's not enough."
"Well, you shouldn't have done what you did if you wanted me to be open with you. You've been nothing but sneaky." His breath catches and he exhales a tortured sound. I don't dare to look up. I've once again lashed out and I'm not sure I can take back this one. I've gone too far. Ice-cold air slithers over my heated skin when he disentangles from me and moves away. A door clicks and the shower starts. I want to follow him. I want to say I'm sorry. I do neither. I just stay where I am, feeling like shit, until he comes out of the bathroom.
"If you want, I can draw you a bath." I shake my head, still not looking at him. I'm such a stupid coward. "Okay then." He turns the lights off, lies on his side of the bed and caresses my shoulder. "Get more comfortable." I don't deserve to get more comfortable. I don't deserve him being gentle.
"I'm sorry."Sorry doesn't cut it.
"It's cold. Slide up so I can cover us with the comforter. Good."
His voice is neutral. Not sad. Not mad. Not sweet. Just… neutral.
"Isaid I'm sorry."
"I heard you. I don't know what you want me to reply. If you meant it, you have nothing to be sorry for. You're entitled to your feelings. You taught me that. If you didn't… I have no clue what triggered your reaction. You won't tell me, and every time I push, things get worse or you make choices I'm not sure you're happy about. If I don't push, you just run."
All so fucking true.
"Can I hug you?"
Silence stretches between us. I can't see him and the darkness is weighing on me just a little less than guilt. From his perspective, it must make little sense that I want to hug him. I understand that. So I don't wait for his answer and just do it. His body doesn't welcome mine, though. He just stays still.
I've done it. I guess by tomorrow we'll go our separate ways. Probably for the better. For me and especially for him. I keep telling him he's crazy, but I'm way crazier than he is. And with all his craziness, he's not once aimed at hurting me. I thought I made progress during this last year, but clearly leaving was the right choice. I'm wired wrong. I'm made to be alone. I'm no one's perfect.
Then his arms come around me and he drags me closer. I hate the dark and I hate that I can't see him.
"Tell me just one thing: did you mean it?"
"No."
"Are you hurting?"
"No, I told you, my hip is fine."
"I don't mean your hip."Oh.
"Yes." I'm making myself hurt. I'm making everyone hurt.
"Then I can hurt with you."
thirty-nine
