You and I Together Page 12

  He relaxes the rest of his weight down onto me and lets out a shaky exhale. “Holy shit.” He laughs lightly, trying to catch his breath.

  Glancing at the clock on my bedside table, I tap lightly on his back. “With ten minutes to spare.” I say, smiling widely when he pulls back and gives me an accomplished smirk.

  “I aim to please. Even if given time restraints.” He says, pulling out of me and collapsing back down, his head resting lightly against my chest.

  “And please, you definitely do.” I purr, running my hands through his messy hair. “But we should probably get dressed now.” I laugh when he makes no attempt to move.

  “No.” He says, still not moving from his place on top of me.

  “No?” I question playfully.

  “I have decided that I am never leaving this spot.” He says, nuzzling his face into my chest.

  “Suit yourself but I should warn you, in about five minutes Andrea is going to walk in here and see all your assets.” I laugh.

  “Let her.” He shrugs. “Then she can see what belongs to you.” He tacks on when I lightly smack against his shoulder blade.

  “And what about her boyfriend? Do you want him to see what belongs to you?” I ask, laughing loudly when he shoots up off of me and starts collecting my clothing from the floor, throwing the articles towards me on the bed.

  “So that's all it takes. Just threaten you with another guy.” I can't contain my smile when he hits me with a serious look as he steps into his boxers. “Or not.” I joke, when he doesn't return my smile.

  “You are mine Anna. I don't like that my clients are privy to parts of your body that I prefer to keep to myself. I'll be damned if another man is going to get to see you bare.” He says, buckling his jeans and then throwing his shirt over his head before crossing the space towards me.

  “Don't worry.” I say, standing and reaching out to grab his t-shirt. Pulling him against my bare body, I take his hand and press it against my collarbone. Pushing it slowly downwards, I make sure it grazes against my breasts and across my stomach before tucking it between my legs, loving the way his hand feels against my sensitive bare flesh. “This is yours. Every inch of me belongs to you.” I breathe against his mouth as I pull him down to me.

  “Kryptonite.” He breathes against my lips, laying a soft kiss to them before he pulls back. He gives me a look that is both seductive and sweet, which oddly enough, sort of sums up our relationship.

  Pulling back, he shoves my bra and panties into my hand. “Now get dressed.” He says, winking and then turning away to collect my other clothing from the floor. He waits until I have my underwear and bra back on before sliding my shirt over my head and then handing me my jeans.

  “So, what's the plan?” I ask, loving that my empty Friday night has now been filled with the promise of this man's company and the pleasure of his body.

  “I plan to take you to my hotel room.” He says, pulling me into him, his face dropping to my neck as he licks my overly sensitive skin.

  “You planning on stealing me are you?” I ask teasingly, leaning my head back to give his lips more access.

  “All night.” He promises, his tongue dancing across my windpipe.

  “And what do you plan to do with me once you have me there?” I ask, my body already responding to him even though it has been less than five minutes since he was buried deep inside of me.

  “I am going to taste every inch of this incredible body.” He rasps, his lips stopping just below my ear. “I can't get enough of you Anna. You're like a drug. An addiction I just can't seem to shake. When I'm away, I experience the worst sort of withdrawals. When I'm here, I can't help but want more and more. I'm afraid I may not ever be able to stop.”

  “Then don't.” I challenge, pulling back to meet his eyes that dance with so much promise, it takes everything I have to hold my body still.

  He flashes me a brilliant smile and then his mouth closes down on mine once more, essentially ending our conversation. Pulling my body flush with his, he kisses me with so much passion, I swear I will feel the effects of his lips for days to come.

  Chapter

  Fifteen

  “What do you think Anna? Should we stop and get ice cream on the way home?” My mother turns slightly from the passenger seat and looks back, smiling lovingly in my direction.

  “Ice cream. Ice cream.” I rock in my seat, excitement lacing my small voice.

  “You heard her Joe. Ice cream it is.” My mother says, turning her smile towards my father, reaching out to run her hands gently through the back of his hair.

  “Are you sure?” My father meets my gaze in the rear view mirror. I can't see his mouth but I can tell by the way his eyes crinkle that he's smiling at me.

  “Yes!” I cry from the backseat, growing increasingly frustrated with his little game.

  My eyes shoot open and I take a sharp gasp, sitting up abruptly in bed, my heart pounding rapidly in my chest. For a moment, I have trouble processing my surroundings, given the heavy darkness of the room. A small sliver of light from the city outside casts a low shadow through the open curtains, giving me just enough light that once my vision clears, I can make out that I'm in a bedroom, as if the bed I am sitting on isn't already a giveaway of that fact.

  It isn't until I turn to the side and my eyes land on the sleeping body of Bentley, that reality starts to creep back in. I shift in the bed, trying to get a good look at him. He's on his back, one arm stretched above his head while the other is draped across his stomach. His breathing is light and even, his lips parted slightly. I can't help but smile at how peaceful he looks, how completely innocent. Like sleep somehow erases the scars we carry with us, at least for a short time. Or maybe it only brings those scars to light, at least in my case tonight.

  Letting out a slow exhale, I try to shake off the effects of the dream. It's not the first time I have dreamed about my parents. Usually the visions are more clouded and I can almost never make out their faces but this one.... Well, this one felt all too real. I forgot how beautiful my mother was in person, how infectious her smile was. The way she used to always run her hands through the back of my father's hair, her little way of showing him affection no matter where they were.

  I can't remember a dream that ever felt so real before either. Like I was actually there. It takes me a moment before I realize that it wasn't just a dream, but a memory. I remember that day. It's like my subconscious has somehow reminded me of something I have long since buried. I try to push past what happened next. Did we stop and get ice cream? Did we go somewhere else first? And then I realize it. I don't know how I know but I do.

  The dream, or memory for that matter, is from the day of the accident. Though I can't remember the specifics of how it happened, I remember ice cream. I remember my mother smiling at me in the backseat. Now that I think about, I remember Bryson in his car seat next to me. I strain, trying to see past the darkness that time has cast over my memory. I know he was there, my baby brother. I can feel it but for whatever reason, I can't envision him like I can my parents.

  I pull my knees up to my chest as I struggle to remember the specifics of a life I lived so little of. I was so young when that life came to end. A life where I had two parents and a little brother; a real family. I haven't thought about them in so long and while I suppose it's not completely unnatural to be emotional, I find it odd just how shaken up I am by the memory of the people I lost. The people I never truly got the chance to know.

  I jump slightly when Bentley's hand trails down my shin, pulling my attention to the fact that he's awake. I pull my face up, meeting his sleepy gaze. My face is shrouded in darkness, so it's unlikely he can see my expression but that doesn't stop me from trying to collect myself as quickly as I can.

  “Hey.” He says, sleep thick in his voice. “You okay?” He stops his hand just below my knee where my hand is clutching my shin and peels my fingers away. Wrapping them in his hand, he tugs slightly, causing my body to turn in
ward, allowing him to pull me down into his arms, my head resting against his chest. Silence fills the air around us as Bentley slowly runs his fingers through my hair, giving me the time I need to form an answer.

  I try to focus on the beating of his heart against my cheek. The smell of his flesh. The rise and fall of his chest with each breath he takes. Moments pass before I finally part my lips and speak actual words. “I saw my parents.” I say, not missing the way his hand falters slightly in my hair.

  “I mean, it was a dream. But it was also a memory. I haven't thought about that day in so long. I don't even know if I truly remembered it until just now.” I say, snuggling deeper into his embrace.

  “Tell me about it.” He whispers against the top of my head, his arm snaking around me, pulling me tighter against him.

  “It was the day of the accident. How could I have forgotten them so easily?” I ask, more to myself than expecting any real answer from Bentley.

  “When we lose the people we love, the best thing we can do for them is to keep on living. Your parents would have wanted that. You were so young. You can't let the guilt of being alive when they aren't be something that hinders you. Make it something that inspires you, drives you, pushes you to accomplish everything you want.” He says, his fingers continuing to work long sweeps through my thick strands of hair.

  “Tell me about your family. What were they like?” He asks when I fall silent against his chest. I think for a moment, realizing there is very little I remember.

  “I don't know.” I admit. “I don't really remember much. My mom had the best smile. I can see her smile even when I can't remember her face. The way it would light up a room. And my dad, I remember his laugh. The way it would vibrate from somewhere deep inside of him. They loved each other. The dream, it reminded me of something my mom used to do. Though the memories are foggy and a bit unclear, I remember it now as if they were still here. She would always run her hands through the back of his hair, right at the top of his neck. It's not much, but it's something I didn't remember about them before.”

  “Then there's Bryson.” I continue. “He was so young. He turned one exactly six days before the accident. If it wasn't for pictures, I don't even think I would remember what he looked like at all. He was barely here before he was gone.”

  “It's okay to remember them anyway you can. As long as you remember them.” Bentley says softly, kissing the top of my head.

  “It was raining out. I don't know where we had been or where we were going. My mom suggested we stop for ice cream, so maybe whatever we had planned for the day had gotten rained out. I'm not sure. I can't pinpoint anything beyond the dream. I remember Bryson screaming, crying so loudly that it hurt my ears. That is the only memory I have of the accident.” I tremble slightly in Bentley's arms, trying to shake the uneasiness the dream has left me with.

  “Tell me what happened after that.” He pushes, clearly just trying to get me to talk it through. Maybe he thinks it will help, though I really can't see how.

  “I don't know.” I admit. “I don't remember coming to Chicago, only that I was here. I remember I didn't talk for a while, though that's only because my grandma had told me. That's why she signed me up for dance. She was trying to find a way to push me back into the world. Give me something to focus on. Somewhere to put all the hurt and confusion I was feeling. I don't remember much, but I remember the anger. I remember that sometimes it would boil in me deep inside and no matter what I did, nothing would help; nothing but dance.”

  “It was your way of telling the world how you felt. It still is.” He makes the observation. Even though I know it's true, I've always known that much about myself, it still strikes me heavily that he sees through me so clearly, unlike anyone ever has before.

  “Tell me more about your grandmother?” He asks, urging me to continue but not demanding it, which makes me want to keep going.

  “She was infuriating but wonderful at the same time. I still remember the way she used to yell my name through the house. The way her voice would shoot up an octave if she had to say my name more than once. She was not prepared for me but I think she did okay given the circumstances. She was my dad's mother. I had only seen her a handful of times before I moved in with her. We lived in North Carolina while she lived here in Chicago.” I stop, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly before continuing. “My dad was her only child so she had no other family. It was just me and her.”

  “I remember when I found out she died. I was in the sixth grade. The guidance counselor pulled me into her office and asked me what kind of soda I liked. I remember thinking that I must have done something really awesome if the guidance counselor was buying me a soda, which students weren’t allowed to have. The only machine was in the teacher's lounge. It wasn't until she told me that my grandmother had suffered a massive heartache that I realized what was going on. I was forced to sit in that office all afternoon, speaking to several people and yet, not holding onto even one of those conversations. Then the social worker showed up and the next thing I knew, I was being dropped on the step of a strange home with a family I had never met. My grandmother was gone.”

  “That couldn't have been easy.” He speaks, pulling me from the memory that I seem to have lost myself in.

  “It was scary.” I admit, wrapping my arm around his stomach and pulling him tighter to me. “I was there for almost three years. I don't think I knew them any better when I left, then what I did the day I arrived. They were very secretive people; cold, closed off. They weren't overly mean to me or anything, they just always made me feel like they didn't have time for me. Their own children always came first. By the time I was fifteen, I would take any attention I could get. Their son, Jacob, was two years older than me. I used to sneak into his room late at night when I couldn't sleep.” I let the statement hang there, feeling him tense below me slightly. A dead giveaway that he sees where I am going with this.

  “Anyways, his dad caught us together one night and the next morning I was on my way to an entirely new home. This one was much different, in the sense that the woman had four daughters of her own and a husband that traveled constantly. Things were okay until my initial knee injury, followed by two surgeries and then another injury, by which time I had fallen into a pretty deep depression. I was moody and angry and after it was all said and done, I think it was just too much for her. She had so much on her plate already. A depressed sixteen year old girl that wouldn't come out of her room, proved beyond her ability to deal with.” I shrug.

  “I guess in the end it was all for the best. Patty stepped in and within a couple of months, had already started the adoption process. Of course, at sixteen, the court will pretty much sign you away to whomever you want as long as there is no criminal background and they have the means to feed and cloth you. I've never told her this, but in a lot of ways, I feel like she saved my life. She gave me dance when I had nothing. She gave me hope when I got injured. She showed me how to live beyond dance when I lost it for good. She pushed me to want more for myself than a life filled with anger and disappointment. She pushed me to just want more.” I say, exhaling deeply, realizing that I have not talked about this in such great detail to anyone before. Of course, Andrea knows most of this already. Though, even with her, I didn't open up the way I am right now.

  “I wish I could make this better for you somehow.” His voice is low and somewhat muffled by his lips against my hair.

  “You have.” I say, pulling my head back and propping up on my elbow to look at him. “Don't you see?” I ask, my eyes burning deeply into his, the crisp blue barely visible in the darkness. “You make this better just by being here.”

  “Anna I will always be here for you. Always.” He promises, leaning his head up slightly to press his lips against my forehead.

  “I know.” I say, realizing that I truly believe his words. I believe that he means it. I don't know how or why but in this moment, I feel like there isn't a thing this man wouldn't do to pr
otect me, to comfort me, to show me that no matter what happens, I don't have to face the world alone anymore.

  “Come here.” He says, pulling me back down into his arms. His hand immediately goes to my hair again, as he resumes running his fingers through the tangles.

  We lay in silence for several long moments. If not for his hand still lazily gliding against my back, I would swear he was asleep. Other than his hand, he hasn't moved or spoken for what seems like forever.

  “What are you thinking about?” My weak voice breaks the silence and he shifts slightly beneath me.

  “You.” He says softly into the darkness.

  “What about me?” I ask, trailing my hand lightly across his sculpted stomach, not missing the way his body tenses when I do.

  “I was trying to imagine my life before this.” He admits, pressing his cheek to the top of my head.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, allowing my hand to travel lower down his abdomen, my fingers tracing his hip bone before slowly crossing his lower belly to the other side and repeating the process.

  “I feel like everything leading up to this was just filler. A way to occupy my time until I found you. I know it sounds juvenile, but in way, I feel like we were meant to end up here, like this, together.” His breath hitches slightly when my hand dips lower, tracing the flesh along his pubic bone.

  “That doesn't sound juvenile.” I get out weakly, sliding my hand lower as I close my fingers around his hardening erection. “I feel the same way.” I admit.

  Feeling him grow beneath my hand is enough to bring my lust to the surface and push down the uneasiness of my dream and the pain of reliving my past. Pushing away from his chest, I fling my leg over him and slowly pull myself up until I am straddling his lap, his erection sliding easily inside of my folds as I do.

  His hands fall to my hips but he makes no other attempt to move. Being this far away in the darkness, I can no longer see his eyes, but that doesn't mean I can't feel them hot on my face as I lift up and then slowly lower myself down onto his erection.