Page 131 of Now and Forever

He was holding the vertical devices hostage, and it was rubbing me the wrong way. If he didn’t want me to be pissed off, he had a funny way of showing it.

Unperturbed about my shift of mood, he chose remain stubborn by not granting me my request.

“I’m carrying you to your room. End of story,” he stonily stated as he got up.

Why did he always manage to get the last word?

I fumed, on the verge of screaming. I didn’t want him touching me again. Nevertheless, with little to no warning, he smoothly collected me in his arms, hoisting me up before heading toward my bedroom without missing a step. Upon entering my space, he then proceeded toward the bed before cautiously depositing me on the mattress. I had figured that he would leave me in peace, yet he had other thoughts in mind.

While sitting right on the edge of the bed, he unexpectedly cupped my face. “Chloe, what did I do wrong?” he softly asked. “I thought you said you understood. If this isn’t about that, then what is it?”

I did understand. What had happened in the living room was a result of hysteria and the inability to channel my emotions properly. One of the things I despised about myself was how I processed disappointment. It usually resulted in mood swings, vindictive and unsystematic spurts of hurt and anger. I was in the wrong, even if my emotions were justified. Regardless, forming apologies took longer to process, partly in fear I would get too impassioned. Therefore, the best solution was to mince my words effectively without appearing too invested in the subject.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you, and I meant it when I said I understood your reasons behind the decisions you made.” There I was, halfway through; I could do this. Yay, mature version of me. “Honestly, I don’t blame you, not at all. This is all on me … for growing up thinking you’re the only man I’d ever be with since I was eight years old. It’s my fault for always holding out hope, so much so that it blinded me from the truth, from what’s really going on. And after all these years, that idea has been irrevocably crushed. So I need some time away to fully digest everything, but you’re reluctant to give me the headspace, and in return, I snapped.”

“You’ve known you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me since you were eight?” He was flummoxed, ignoring the rest of what I had just stated.

“Some girls like to spend their time with Barbies, video games, glitter, and frills. I liked to play pretend. Whenever you and Jackson were preoccupied with doing boy stuff, I would go to the tree house and act as if I was a wife preparing the house for you to come home. Didn’t you ever wonder why I kept asking you to come up for some milk and Oreos?”

“I had no idea.” His expression remained unchanged, bewildered by my confession.

“Well, now you know.” Bizarre, but maybe this was my process of letting go of the past—by confiding the secret I had held for far too long. By uttering the words, it was as if I were releasing myself from that juvenile fairytale. I felt appeased. “It’s fine. Let’s just consider this water under the bridge now. I’m sure it can get weird sometimes, but we’ll eventually get used to it. Like everything else in life, practice makes perfect.”

“What water? I—you can’t seriously believe that we’re done discussing this. You were eight years old, carrying on with the thought …” The quizzical look was still apparent on his gorgeous face.

“It’s not up for discussion. What else is there to say other than I was pathetic enough to believe that you’re God, and I was crazy in love with you?” I huffed out, roused and overemotional. I had said my piece through injured pride. There was no chance of us nitpicking any of that. Besides, there was no point in it. “You want to have a ‘discussion’ about that? Are you fucking kidding me?” My crazy psycho was peeking through, and I could feel my body becoming hot, overheating from this never ending madness. “Are you so curious you want to laugh at my stupidity? Because let me fucking tell you—”

“Shut up!” he bit out, his chest heaving, eyes wild, flashing at me in frustration, in turmoil, in dazedness.

Swiftly running a hand through his hair, he appeared out of sorts before diverting those riveting blues on me for a mere second. It took a breath, a moment before he unexpectedly lowered his face and fiercely kissed me with everything he was feeling, as if each kiss had a tale, its own explanation for why he was conflicted. I could feel him fighting with himself, though his lips proved otherwise. It was a kiss so potent I felt drunk. As much as I felt for him, I couldn’t match his hunger, his need. It was as if he wanted to consume me, devour me, and annihilate my entirety like a predator would to its captured prey.

I trembled, feeling so out of my depth, my meager experience unmatched by his expertise. My ears rung. My heart exploded into a million shards. Fireworks burst behind my closed lids as the kiss deepened, his chest pressed against my sensitive buds.

“Chloe,” he spoke in a strained voice.

I was about to yank his lips back to mine, but they found other places to scrutinize, seeking out my neck, the outline of my breasts. And just when I was loving the feel of him paying homage to them, I quickly realized what was happening. His face was between my legs, ardently determined.

His tongue made a quick, powerful swipe on my clit, temporarily parting my folds, wetting them. The sight the tip of his tongue toying with sweet button and that hungered look like he was about to devour my pussy alive … It made me come undone. He used his tongue in slow, circular motions, hypnotizing me with its technique and precision. Past delirious, I shifted my hips, abruptly lifting them just as powerful tremors travelled and quaked, throbbing on the particular spot.

His ministrations were deliberate, heightening my senses to their pinnacle, so the moment he decided to halt, I craved it like a junkie. Everything was calculated. He gauged my body’s reaction, knowing when to slow down but never stopping.

He tightened his hold on my thighs, locking them down so I wasn’t able to escape the unforgiving onslaught of his fervent tongue, mercilessly flicking my clit at such a speed it wasn’t given a reprieve, a chance to pause, to recover from tipping over the edge, delivering me to sweet oblivion.

Gasping for air in the wake of nirvana, I felt my body hum, alive like never before and unquestionably insatiable. After leaving a soft kiss atop my mound, he then began to slowly creep his way toward me, reaching for my cheek, caressing it softly as he gazed down on me.

“Feeling much better?”

Not quite. I needed more. I needed him. Desperately.

“Almost,” I whispered, smiling at him as I tried to feel him through his pants, but he shifted his hips so I couldn’t reach it, frustrating me further. “Stop being such a tease. Let me touch you.”

“We can’t have sex, Chloe. My decision hasn’t changed.”

Then why would he put me in a precarious position, leaving me wanton and vulnerable? He wasn’t playing fair.

“Please … just this once.” I grazed his chin with my lips, trailing along his jaw until I reached his ear.

His body was tense, like he was against me doing such things to him. But since he didn’t voice his displeasure, I thought it enough encouragement to carry on.

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