Page 28 of Look My Way
Sighing, he takes his hand away and kisses the center of my head. “Still don’t have your sex drive back I see.”
My fingers curl around the bottom of my shorts. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’ll come back with time,” he says, not sounding as encouraging as he wants me to believe. “Let’s get some sleep.”
“Yeah, okay. You still have the day off tomorrow?”
“Yeah. Why? Wanting to do something fun together?” His voice lifts to a higher octave.
I lift myself up and shove myself under the covers beside him. “There’s a farmers market happening downtown and I’ve been wanting to go for some time now.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do, and then I’ll take you somewhere nice to eat like I was supposed to yesterday. Sound good?” He peeks over the covers at me, his lips forming into an almost smile.
“What about that ceremony you have to be at tomorrow?” My voice hangs in the air.
There’s a divot in his forehead. “That’s next weekend. I have nowhere I need to be but here,” he says, and his voice almost sounds endearing. I’m able to see through his façade more and more lately. Why has it taken me so long?
“Yeah. I’ll wake up earlier than usual so I can hit my word count before we have to leave.”
“Or you can be like me and take an actual day off this week.” Turning his face, he fluffs the pillow under him and adjusts himself onto his side.
“Yeah. I could do that too.” I won’t, though. It’s not something I can afford to do and going a day without writing at least a little of what’s going on in my head will gnaw at me all day. I’ll enjoy our day out together more if I at least get two chapters in.
“Okay. Time for some rest now. Night, baby.” He tugs the covers fully over his head, and I sit higher in bed, scooting more to the center.
“Will you hold me tonight? I sleep better when you do?” I used to at least. It was the comforting weight of another person and gentle pressure acting as a weight blanket.
“I’m already comfortable. Maybe ask before I’m situated in bed.”
Not saying anything, I sink under the covers, and when his snores fill the room, I crawl back out slowly. Lifting my head, I peer out the window at the moon lighting a small patch of sky. The trees are still until they aren’t. Branches shake and my stomach folds in on itself. Is someone out there?
The rational thing to do would be to stay where I am and take Daniel’s suggestion of getting some rest. Is that what I do? Of course not. I look over at the sleeping man who always appears dead to the whole world at night and slither my way out of bed. Leaving all the lights off as I move through the house, I stepinto the kitchen and my gaze hooks on the recipe box on the windowsill.
My blood warms in my ears, but my feet are plastered to the cold wood floor. It’s moved again.
Breaths sticking to the back of my throat, I make a beeline toward it and lift it up as if to find some reasoning behind why it keeps leaving its usual spot. “You weren’t here earlier. Why won’t you stay put?”
Great, now I’m talking to a stupid recipe box. Huffing out a sigh, I set it back down, and as I’m turning around, an idea comes to me. I grab the box again and shove it under the sink. Slamming the cabinet door shut, I straighten my legs and rest my hands on my hips, staring downward. “There. Now I won’t have a reason to feel crazy every day.”
I’m returning to my room when the partially open sliding door leading to the back yard has my steps coming to a halt. I stop breathing for what feels like a long time, heart shooting up to my throat. “What the hell?”
Daniel checks every door in the house every night at least five times. How did he miss this one? Did I forget to shut it earlier when I was rushing to water my plants before my video call with my publisher?
Staring harder at the door, I slowly approach it, and my fingers pause on the handle as I see more trees move. There’s no wind rushing through the small space, though. It’s humid and the air is still when I step outside. My eyes adjust more to the dark, and I see a shadowy figure standing beside my shed. I close my eyes and open them again.
It doesn’t work this time; the person is still there. Backing up to the door, I reach my hand behind me, and my heart feels like it’s about to jump out of my chest.
“Hello?” I say, voice cracking.
No one says anything back and the figure doesn’t move. Those same glowing eyes from last night appear, watching me, and I can’t look away. I can’t stop my hand from slipping inside my pants either. What the hell is wrong with me?
All the questions about my odd actions don’t stop me, though. If anything, I’m more aroused. This is something Daniel would be against. He’d tell me this was sick and ask me what’s wrong with me. Sliding my pants low on my hips, my fingers lift to my neck, and I squeeze lightly around my pulse point as I fuck between my fingers.
“Are you drunk like last time? What’s gotten into you?”
The more I hear Daniel’s disapproving words, the hotter my skin gets, and a dizzy spell comes over me. My eyes roll into the back of my head at the shared pressure around my cock and throat.
Those eyes don’t look away, they get closer, and I stay where I am, moaning quietly and bucking my hips. Pleasure surges through me, lighting my body on fire, and it’s like every part of me is being licked by flames as I spill closer to the edge. I’m not supposed to be doing this, so I want to do it more. The person in front of me isn’t real anyway, right?
