Page 94 of Revive
She rubbed back against him so that his chin wound up on her non-injured shoulder digging a groove into the flesh. His stubble prickled.
“Spook, wouldn’t you be hurt if I did speak to him? I’ve not forgotten what he did to you—”
“Alle, I don’t want to hold onto all the bad things. I’m not raring to eat Christmas dinner with him, but if you want to talk to him, if it’ll help you process everything, then you should do it.”
“Maybe by Christmas I won’t feel so bitter.”
He kissed her cheek. “Maybe.” She felt him smile. “What?”
“Only that I kind of wish I’d punched Marshall again too. Probably would have been easier on my knuckles than the fence Ginny says I assaulted.”
“You assaulted a poor defenceless fence? Ooh, you villain.”
“I know, it was quite malicious by all accounts. Well, Ginny’s.” He showed her the backs of his hands, where the knuckles were scabbed and bruised. Alle turned his hands palms up and traced the lifelines on them. The skin of them was just as red and raw as his knuckles. So too were his inner arms. Gently, she traced the ragged scratches. He let her, without flinching or trying to downplay their state.
“I don’t even remember doing that. To be honest, most of last night from the point of me leaving you is a blur.”
“Then you remember all the good bits. They’re what matter.” It was too awkward to turn and face him, so she leaned her head back seeking the caress of his lips instead. “Please tell me you’re not beating yourself up about that part.”
He planted the kiss she sought. “Only about walking away. I didn’t even want to. It was only because you insisted that I did.”
“But you’re not regretting the sex, because I don’t want you to. I loved every second of it, and I want us to be able to play like that if we want to.”
He huffed. “That’s because you’re a kinky bitch. Which incidentally, I love about you. But no, I don’t regret the sex. Not saying I haven’t had a couple of wobbles over the last twenty-four hours, but the cage is open, Alle. I’m not going back in it. Nor am I saying I’m fixed, only that I feel a little less broken. There are still going to be times when I doubt, or everything feels too much.”
“Xane days,” she said. “Not that I’m fobbing you off on him. If you ever think I can give you what he does, then I will.”
“I know.” He breathed her in while snuggling her tight, and they basked in the peace of togetherness for a time, until he roused her with a nudge. “My toes are starting to prune. Time to get out.”
Spook wound her in towels, and they padded back downstairs to the bedroom. Alle was certain she was gazing at him in a lovesick sort of way, but it all felt right this evening. Peaceful. Like they’d strung invisible cords between them, and that they were strong enough to withstand whatever life threw their way. When she sagged onto the bed and closed her eyes, her mind filled with the glimpse she’d caught of him across the hospital car park, blond hair dancing in the breeze, and her heart filled with the same elated rush all over again to know he was there, waiting for her, rather than holed up in a blanket fort somewhere clutching a razor blade overwhelmed by everyone else’s judgemental bollocks.
“Happy thoughts?” Spook asked. “You’re smiling.”
“I’m just thinking about how awesome my boyfriend is. How sweet, and kind, and talented. How well he fucks me.”
He chuckled. Then kissed her on the tip of her upturned nose. “Way to a man’s heart. Compliment his bedroom skills. Would you like to comment on the enormousness of my cock too?”
“It’s perfectly proportioned and practically perfect in every way.”
“So, I have the Mary Poppins of cocks?”
“That is a weird image you’ve just planted, Spook Mortensen. I need something to distract me now from thinking about that.”
Spook pursed his lips, “Well, I could shag you with my amazing dick, but you’re not supposed to be exerting yourself.”
“You could do all the work,” she suggested. Way to a woman’s heart. Tell her she could lie back while you did all the work.
“True. I could…”
That didn’t sound wholly like he was about to. True to his teasing self, he pushed his tongue into his cheek, then turned his back. It was on the tip of her tongue to protest, when he dropped the towel giving her a perfect view of his arse. Damn, she’d got lucky the day she’d met him. Frustratingly, he pulled on a pair of loose joggers he took out of a drawer.
“Are they yours?”
“Xane’s, I think.” He shook out his hair so that it fell in a cascade of silver-gold down his back.
“What is there for me to wear?”
He pulled out another item. “T-shirt.”
