Page 21 of Ward Willing
“That’s not true. I’ve been taking care of myself for almost four years.”
Her remark cuts deep to my core, and I wince. Guilt, betrayal, ire… it all swirls inside of me as I push off the counter and take a step closer.
Her light brown eyes bore into mine, but I don’t look at her. Instead, I look down at the floor, letting her words fill the heavy air around us. Sometimes when we argue, it can get tense.Heated.There’s such a heavy grief between us, I swear it’s about to swallow us both into the ground together. I tend to say things I shouldn’t, and so does she.
The more we interact, the more we push buttons.
The more we circle the other, the more intense it gets.
It’s like we’re both sharks waiting for the other to bleed—knowingit’s bound to happen and waiting for the other one to snap and spill their guts.
And I don’t miss the way her eyes sometimes linger on my arms, my hands, my neck. I can’t help but think back to that night in Catalina. I’ve buried it so far back in my psyche that I don’t ever allow myself to think or ruminate on what really happened, or what we said.
Or did.
And when her eyes get that familiar argumentative heat behind them, every single wall I’ve erected between us threatens to crumble, because all I want to do is repeat that night.
The kiss.
Her tight, velvet heat wrapped around my cock.
Watching her plush lips part, hearing her moans and breathy pants.
Making her come andtastingher.
I swear to fucking god I can still remember the exact taste of her.
Salty and sweet all at once, like fucking caramel.
Just the thought of it makes me hard.
“Why do you care so much?”
She says it like I don’t have a right to be concerned about her, and that pisses me the hell off.
“I’ll stop caring when I’m dead,” I offer up, voice thick with fury as I move to stand right in front of her. “You can’t expect me to sit around and watch as you work yourself to death. Idocare. I always will.” Her expression softens a bit as her posture relaxes. I continue, thinking of how I can help her. “Let me come with you on Saturday. I can at least drive you home if you get tired.”
“What about your book?”
A smile tugs at my lips.That’s what she’s worried about?“Well, staring at a blank page for years on end hasn’t worked, so what’s the harm in switching things up?”
She looks almost surprised at my admission. “Years? Really?”
I dip my chin and look down. “Yep. Over four years.”
We both know why.
“Well, either way, it’s still too much to ask of you.” She runs a hand to the back of her head, removing the pen from her hair and letting it down. I get a whiff of her shampoo.
Violets.
The action causes something to drop inside of me, my cock starting to thicken.
Fuck.
That smell. It reminds me ofher.
It keeps me up at night, wafting through the house, reminding me of how sweet she smelled. The smell has me pulsing into my hand in the shower while I imagine slipping between her legs and making her make those sounds again.
