Page 84 of A Me and You Thing
“Sawyer, being with you... that’s all I need. You make me well.”
He’s at war with himself, but he gives in, taking me in his arms and pressing his lips to mine. I pull him down and he slowly lowers himself on top of me.
“Am I hurting you?” he mumbles between kisses.
“No.” His weight grounds me, making me feel safe. Our kiss deepens, turning frantic at first, reflecting our need for each other. But then it slows to a sweet and gentle rhythm, the moment so incredibly tender, I want to cry. “Now I’m okay. I just needed you.”
“Give it time,” he repeats, but he doesn’t stop holding me or kissing me. His lips wander to my neck and I arch my back, longing to be as close as possible.
I know the exact moment when he remembers he’s decided to be noble. His lips hover above mine. “To be continued.” He kisses me one last time, and I know he’s having a hard time breaking away.
But he does. He slowly gets to his feet, adjusting his clothing and raking a hand through his hair in an attempt to erase the rumpled lovemaking look. “I’ve dreamed of having you here in this bed every single night you’ve been gone. I don’t have the words to tell you...” he says with obvious emotion.
“I know what you’re saying,” I interrupt quietly.
He looks up at the ceiling, rubbing his neck. “Okay. Rest, Quinn.” He places the dinner tray next to me. “Eat some dinner. You need to get your strength back.” He leans down and kisses my forehead, making me again feel like a child he’s caring for. I reach up and hold his face in my hands. He leans in a little further, capturing my lips with his again. The kiss has blatant longing attached to it, making the silent room heavy with aching anticipation. He falls to his knees next to the bed and before we know it, we’re once again wrapped up in each other, our mouths sealed together tightly, our tongues tangling, his arms around me, pulling me just as close as he can.
He ends the kiss a tad abruptly—so unlike Sawyer. He never pulls away from me. Never.
“Quinn,” he whispers, “I can’t... I’m walking out the door, and I’m letting you eat and rest. Okay?”
“Okay.” I give in. I realize I look like I might break if he touches me the wrong way, so I understand his hesitation. Besides, I can feel the events of the day taking a toll on me. I’m exhausted. “Everything is okay though, right?” I ask again. I don’t know why. I just feel so needy. I require constant reassurance.
“Believe me, everything is just as it should be for the first time in a very long time. Don’t worry about anything, sweetheart. Let me take care of this.”
“This?”
He shakes his head. “You. I meant you. Let me take care of you.” His tone is solemn.
I nod. Everything feels so odd and yet so familiar.
“I’m gonna go help Bree get the kids to bed. I’ll be back just as quick as I can. Don’t hate me for being unable to let you out of my sight. It’s gonna be that way for a long time.”
“I’ll deal with it.” He closes the door slowly, our eyes connected until the final click.
I eat my dinner in our silent bedroom, feeling a little lonely and lost, even though I’m where I’m supposed to be.
In spite of Sawyer’s reassurance, I feel out of sorts. I think that’s to be expected, but after I mull it over, I realize I’m sensing an underlying tension in the air. It feels like everyone is slightly uncomfortable around me. Maybe I’m just expecting too much all at once. It’ll take time for life to return to normal. The point is that itwillreturn to normal. And for that, I’m eternally grateful.
After I eat, I’m ready to crash and it’s only seven in the evening. I want to wait for Sawyer to return so I can fall asleep in his arms, but I can’t keep my eyes open. I doze off against my will with one thought in my mind.
Why did Sawyer sayLet me take care of this?when he meantLet me take care of you?
Chapter Twenty-seven
Quinn
LIGHT TICKLES MY eyelids, inviting them to open. A nest full of baby birds chirp madly outside the open window.
New life. For them and for me.
If I listen carefully, I can detect the roar of the ocean in the distance. How I’ve missed that sound. I can taste the salt in the air. It’s so deliciously familiar.
I’m home.
As I open my eyes, I’m immediately greeted with Sawyer’s handsome face. He’s sitting in the cushy chair next to our bed, his legs propped up on an ottoman, the white sheers blowing in the breeze behind him.
Such a sweet sight. His eyes are lazy, his blink slow, as he simply looks upon me.
