Page 27 of Collapse

“I never hated you,” he said, his voice relaxed, a little surprised maybe. I felt a shiver as he touched my hair, brushing it behind my ear. “I’ll admit I didn’t like you much. I knew something was up. I suspected you of lies, crimes…” He spoke next to my ear, his voice soft. I had to blink hard, and not because of the onion. This had shifted fast. Seemed he was tired of arguing. When his lips lightly brushed my neck, I gasped, almost quietly.

“I’m man enough to admit when I’m wrong,” he said, moving on to kisses now, “of course, I wasn’t completely, though, was I?”

“No,” I agreed. But I hadn’t done anything wrong for the reasons he’d thought. “You weren’t completely wrong.” I noticed I had started chopping the onion, looking at it from an odd angle as I arched my neck for his kisses, half-closing my eyes. “But you were wrong,” I added, feeling his breath on my neck as he chuckled at my comment. He moved to the back of my neck, giving me a gentle nip that shocked me into a soft whimper.Damn it. That wasn’t like me at all. I decided to put down the knife before cutting off a finger. I grabbed the edge of the island myself as he moved on to my left side, his hand brushing aside my hair again, finding the right spot behind my ear. His lips were warm, the kiss teasing and tickling, giving me shivers, as he moved on to my earlobe. I could feel my breathing intensify without my control, my body starting to move back toward him without my say-so.

“Actually,” I said, struggling a little to keep my voice steady. “You’ve been doing somewrongthings yourself lately.”

“That’s what happens when you keep bad company,” he said, working his way down the side of my neck. He let go of the island, pushing up against me, keeping me stuck between him and it. “And, apparently,” he continued, “I’m very impressionable.” He put his right arm around my waist, holding me tight. His other hand moved up, cupping, caressing gently, slowly.

I gave a moan then, not even caring anymore as I leaned my head back against him. He kept me pinned to the island by way of his large, hard body.

“How is it we seem to end up like this every time we’re alone?” I whispered. It took less effort than using my voice at this point.

“People aren’t that complicated,” he said. I could feel him shrug at the answer. “Boy pulling girl’s braid.”

I thought about our first night together, a surge of anticipation running through me. If that had been his subconscious telling us both he was interested, then I wouldn’t mind him yanking the braid to make his point.

I let go of the island-edge, taking hold of his right hand as he simultaneously released me, leading me to the bedroom. The room was halfway draped in shadows as the thick curtains were drawn and light only came in via the door. He put a hand on my back, pulling me closer, kissing me, both of us sinking into it.

“You know we’re filthy, bloody, and have sand in our shoes?” I murmured onto his lips.

“That, we can fix,” he said and led me into the adjacent bathroom. The light was brighter in there, but as he turned on the shower, I found I didn’t care. At this point, we both looked like crap, and we both knew why. Instead, I quickly returned to his arms as he came back, finding his lips again.

We stood like that, undressing each other slowly, no ferocity in our movements. The desperate intensity fueled with pride and anger we’d shared before, not there this time. It was different, and the unfamiliarity of it exciting. Our filthy and incriminating clothes fell on the floor, our bruised and battered bodies emerging. I ran my hand over his left ribs, not able to trace the five burn marks anymore as the area was covered in bruises. The burn marks were, however, present on his right arm and calf. I raised my hand and ran my fingers through his hair, it took me one attempt to find the cut he’d gotten from the gun that had smacked into him.

I didn’t look any better–my shins were covered in bruises, my shoulders and back as well. He pulled me closer, his hands brushing over my back, a light, gentle touch. We were a fine mess, the both of us. We also needed to not be alone. To comfort each other, forget what had happened for a little while.

The warm water felt soothing on our sore and tired bodies as we stepped into the shower. The calm that had befallen us remained. The kisses soft, the light touches to avoid hurting each other. We simply lathered each other in soap and shampoo, exploring like we had not before, not even when I’d had him at my mercy. We even managed to get out of the shower, despite how ready we both were by that point. Soft towels felt comfortable against my skin, but I quickly shucked it. Grabbing hold of him and pumping him as he was busy drying water out of my hair. He groaned at my touch, a deep husky sound, dropped the towel, and grabbed my wet hair, pulling me in for a kiss. Deeper and more intense now, his tongue parting my lips, a teasing slide.

“It’s the bed or this floor,” I gasped into his mouth. He glanced down at our discarded clothes and thought better of it. Instead, he began leading me toward the door and lifted me by taking hold of my thighs, and carried me like that into the bedroom.

As he lay me down on the bed, the cool sheets welcoming me, I felt less in control than the other times with him, but no less wanted. I caught him looking up at me as he caused the familiar and aching shivers that made my body impossible to keep still. When he finally placed his weight over me, it was a relief as I locked my legs around him, keeping him close, always moving with him.

Afterwards, as we lay entwined, able to feel each other’s rumbling pulses, I thought I heard him say: “I never hated you,” still with a touch of surprise at the thought in his voice.

* * *

I awoke slowly, taking my time emerging from sleep. I gave a deep sigh of contentment and became aware that he was stroking my hair. Slow and light motions, brushing it back from my face. We lay on our sides, face to face, or rather, me, face to his chest, close together. Comfortable.

Bright daylight seeping past the curtains told me it had to be morning, and what little I could see except him told me I was in a white room. Not many colors here, unlike the rest of his place. I didn’t want to move to check it out. Instead, I ran my hand from his hip up to his shoulder, a light touch over his bruises, feeling the relaxed body next to me.

“Morning,” he said as he realized I was properly awake.

I smiled lazily. “I could do with waking up like this more often.”

“Hungry?” he asked. “We never got to dinner.”

“Mmhmm,” I said, moving my hand down under the covers, finding him well on his way already as I took hold of him. “Very hungry,” I teased, leaning forward and kissing his chest as I felt him move in my hand. I really was, though, but luckily my stomach did not choose that moment to start growling.

His hand dug into my hair as he audibly drew breath at my caresses.

“Nate? Are you still here? Oh dear Lord!” an unfamiliar voice rudely interrupted.

I looked back toward the door then, and saw a middle-aged, lean and still pretty-looking woman, standing next to Kona. She was staring at us in what looked like shock. Shock is also what seemed to be running through the now tense body next to me.

“Mrs. Gaines?” he blurted.

“I…I came to get Kona,” she said. “I wasn’t aware you’d be home…this late.”

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