Page 53 of First Time

She smiled, her eyes warm and restful. Her gaze summoned me, and I stretched out beside her, rolling her a bit so we faced each other, my leg snaked between hers. Becky winced.

“Okay?”

“Ribs hurt a little bit.”

Jaw clenched, I tucked some dark hair behind her ear, taking in the light spattering of freckles over the bridge of her nose. The purple on her cheekbone.

I feathered my fingertips over the bruise. “Does this ache too?”

“No.”

“I can get some ice—”

“No.” She clutched at my shoulder to keep me close, her soft breasts pressing against my chest.

We shared exhales, her breath smelling sweet as strawberries. Our eyes latched together as quietness settled between us. No discomfort or strangeness rose to soil the air, simply a peaceful existence at that moment. Enjoying the tingles through extremities of having found release.

“I meant what I said,” I murmured, studying her eyes for any indication she felt differently after having experienced intimacy for the first time. “There’s no going back, Becky.”

Her smile sent happiness radiating through my chest, a pure and unhindered response to my words. “Good luck getting rid of me.”

I snorted. “As if I would ever want to.”

Her lips slowly relaxed, seriousness lining her face. “This doesn’t seem real—how I feel about you. I don’t know you. We have no shared history, no foundation to explain my emotions toward you.”

“I’m calling bullshit.” I gently tugged her closer, running my fingertips over her spine. “We don’t have a lot of past experiences together, but we’re going to remedy that. There’s a draw between us, something potent as fuck, and whether we spend one hour or fifty together, I’m sure that you were put on this earth to walk beside me.”

Wetness welled in her eyes.

“You can’t deny your soul calls out to mine, sweetness. I could feel it while buried deep inside you.”

“Same,” she whispered, solidifying my claim inside my heart and mind.

“I will never leash or lead you around like a sex slave,” I promised. “There will never be any demands on my lips that aren’t meant to bring you pleasure. You hold the power, Becky. You’ll always be the one in control.”

I swiped an escaped tear off her bruised skin, pushing against the darkness wanting to rile up inside me.

“Can I tell you a story?” I asked, my voice low even though a trace of adrenaline leaked into my bloodstream.

She nodded, her hand still holding tight to my shoulder.

I inhaled fully and slowly emptied my lungs. “My father was abusive to my mom.”

Becky swallowed, and another tear leaked from eyes full of empathy and understanding.

“When I was old enough to understand what was happening, Mom hid me in a kitchen cabinet if he came home on a rampage. As I grew older, she begged me to look the other way. Run and hide so he would exercise his demons on her alone.

“Regardless of how he hurt her, she remained faithful as far as I knew. She cooked and cleaned, took care of me and his household since he worked outside the home to provide for us. I was thirteen when Mom finally admitted to herself who—what—he was. She told me to pack a bag, but he came home early and caught us leaving.”

Becky placed her palm on my cheek, her touch warm and grounding.

Thickness grew in my throat as another droplet of wetness slid from her eye.

“Did he hurt you too?” she whispered.

I shook my head. “Never. That afternoon—” I cleared my throat, trying to steady my voice. “One punch dropped her to her knees, then he dragged her back into the house while I stood frozen in the front yard. Anger rose to choke out my fear, and I went inside. Mom’s whimpers drew me toward the kitchen. He had tied her to a chair.”

“Daniel…” Becky’s voice broke, and I closed my eyes.

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