Page 55 of Beneath the Surface

He gave me what I asked for, and by doing so, gave me something I didn’t know I needed.Him.

But I feel sick.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.”

His hand smooths down the back of my head, his fingertips continuing until they trace the edge of my jaw. Chills trickle through my body at his touch. “For what?” he asks.

My throat swells and I choke out the words, tears blurring my vision. “I don’t know.”

“I’ve never had anyone cry after I gave them an orgasm,” he jokes.

A giggle bursts out of me, chipping away small pieces of my shame, disintegrating them to dust.

His thumb brushes my cheek. “Do you want to talk about things now or later?”

My lungs squeeze tight, because the truth is, I’d rather not talk about it at all. But I’m realizing that when it comes to Alex, avoidance isn’t a subject he’s willing to entertain. And it’s in this moment that full realization hits.

I trust him.

He pulls out the darkest parts of me and loves them until they sparkle.

“Is never an option?” I peer at him from under my lashes.

He chuckles. “Not if you ever want me to touch you again.”

My stomach pulls like taffy, twisting and tearing, while I try to reach deep and find the strength to explain why I am the way I am. “Sex is...” I swallow. “Hard for me.”

He nods, his hand going back to my head, pulling me farther into his embrace. I rest my cheek on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat pumping courage through my veins.

“No one has ever cared before.” My insides blaze, flames licking up my throat, making me want to stop the words. But I push through the fire, allowing myself to feel the burn. Because Alex deserves to know the whole truth. Because, for the first time, I wonder if sharing some of the burden would stop it from crushing my bones beneath its weight. “My mind’s fucked up.”

His body shifts, his palms soothing as they trail along my body. “So is mine.”

Shaking my head against him, my fingers tap a nervous rhythm on his torso. “No, I mean… I had—there have been a lot of things happen to me that I prefer to forget. And I… sometimes sex recreates those memories, and my brain turns off like a switch.”

His hands stop their caress, and after a tense moment he asks, “So that you don’t remember?”

I shrug. “I guess. I don’t really know.”

“And the role-playing?”

I shrug again, the claws of shame threatening to rip old wounds and drown me in their blood. “I don’t know. I just... it’s the only way I’ve ever been able to come, so...”

“I thought you told me you had never actually done it.”

Nausea rolls deep in my stomach, shooting up my throat like a gunshot, souring my mouth. I curl into him tighter. “I haven’t,” I whisper.

His body tenses, but otherwise, he shows no reaction. He doesn’t push for more than what I’m able to give, and it makes my chest swell with warmth, so fucking thankful that he gets what I need without me having to speak the words.

“And what we did,” he continues, his voice rumbling in his chest, and sinking into my bones. “That was okay?”

My cheeks heat, arousal curling through my womb at the memory. “That wasmorethan okay. It was... incredible.” I pause, anxiety forming a thought in my head, and trickling through my body like a leaky faucet. “But if it was too much for you then we—I can try harder to like the other way too. I get that it’s not n—”

His mouth presses against mine, cutting off my words. “Stop speaking,” he mutters against my lips. He rolls over until he’s hovering on top of me, keeping us connected with his tongue.

I’ve rarely been kissed, but the few times I have pale in comparison.

Alex kisses me like he’s reaching inside my chest and stealing my breath for his own. Like he’d let the world burn, if only I’d ask him for the ashes.

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