“It’s okay to cry, sweetheart. It doesn’t make you weak.”
“Sweetheart, too.” She sighed, and it was a relieved, almost happy sound. “From you, it’s okay. I don’t hear him.”
“We’ll erase him from you, bit by bit, together. As long as it takes, whatever it takes.”
“Promise?”
“I swear on Betty-Lou, my most prized possession.”
She took that seriously, as weird as it was—she knew what that guitar meant to me. “What did I do to deserve a man like you in my life, Myles?”
I laughed. “I wonder that about you, Lex.” I ran my thumb over her lips, wanting to kiss her, but knowing she just needed to be held. “I think we’re made for each other. We just…deserve each other.”
“I can’t say I’m suddenly okay, but…I feel closer to okay than I have since I was thirteen.”
“I’m so happy for you, Lex. You deserve that.”
She slipped her arms up and around my neck, toying with the back of my head. “Sleepy time now.”
“Okay.”
And so we slept.
Lexie
It was late morning when I woke up. I was rested and contented— I remembered the night before with crystal clarity and knew with utter certainty that telling Myles had been the first and biggest step to healing. I knew also that the road to true healing would be long, and yes, I’d have to see a therapist to really root out all the shit I’d buried so deep and for so long. I knew I had to tell Mom, and that it would crush her maybe worse than Dad’s death had, that she’d interpret it as the worst failure of her life. And I wouldn’t be able to deny it completely; the truth was I did blame her a bit for somehow not knowing, and protecting me.
One thing I did know for sure was that Myles loved me—truly loved me. He, more than anyone, had seen me at my worst and still loved me. That thought brought tears to my eyes. Without him I wouldn’t be where I was today…confident about the future.
And I knew that I loved him. With all my heart. I loved him.
I let all this roll around in my head as I woke up. Myles was outside and I could hear him splashing around. I got up and looked out and saw him swimming up to the hut, saw his hands, and forearms, and then his whole beautiful body, naked, with the water sluicing off him, over his abs and down his sharp V-cut. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, and my thighs involuntarily clenched together as heated need pulsed through me.
It still didn’t seem possible, or even right, that he was mine. That in a second he would enter this hut and I would get to do whatever my imagination allowed.
I couldn’t believe that I could be his.
That I wanted to be his. It wasn’t about possession, I now realized—it was about belonging. And what a difference. Subtle, but powerful.
He shook off, brushed the water from his skin and ran his fingers through his hair. Stood with his face to the morning sun, smiling—happy to just be alive, I think.
Then his eyes opened, and he turned and looked at me—still covered with the blanket.
He smiled at me—bright, happy, loving. “Hey, beautiful. Sleep good?”
“Amazing.” I couldn’t help but smile back.
He didn’t quite frown, but his brow tightened. “How are you feeling?”
I smiled to soothe the worry. “I’m great, actually. I feel like a huge burden has been lifted off me. I know it’s not all suddenly, like, all better. Or fixed. It’s going to take time. I’ll have regressions, and flashbacks, and the memories are still there, but…it’s not a secret anymore. Now you know, and you accept me anyway.”
“Accept you, and love you more than ever.”
I melted a little bit. Felt warm. Tossed off the blanket. Felt the warm rushing buzz of satisfaction as his eyes narrowed with desire and his chest lifted, and his cock immediately twitched, and began hardening.
“More than ever?” I whispered.
He nodded, jaw clenching as his eyes raked over my nude body. “Yeah. Way more.”
I blinked at him, lazily sultry, smiling. “Come here and show me.”
He prowled toward me, cock swaying and growing with each step. Muscles shifting under his skin. Eyes devouring me. He was a vision of male beauty, dominant alpha sexual aggression that combined perfectly with sweetness and understanding. I wanted him more than ever—wanted to kiss every inch of him and hold him and be held, wanted to ride him and be under him. Wanted to feel him inside me and hear him whisper three words…
And whisper them back.
We crawled onto the bed and he paused at my thighs.
I reached for him, bringing him up to me. “No, not that, not now.” I cupped the back of his head and pulled at him—he knew what I wanted, what I needed, and he kissed me.
Kiss isn’t the word.
His mouth sang against mine, a song without sound, a melody of lips and tongues and teeth, and the chorus was his soul matching mine. I let myself want nothing but to kiss him. To feel just this—love through lips. He knew it, and didn’t push us past it. Just kissed me, and kissed me. I scoured his hard shoulders and broad back with my hands, dug my fingers into his hair and ran my nails down his spine. He braced over me with one hand and held my face with the other, a gesture of such sweet possessive intimacy that it stole my breath—I didn’t need to breathe, because he was the oxygen in my lungs. I clutched at the hard taut bubble of his buttocks and spent a few moments there, just enjoying the feel of it in my hands, cupping and squeezing, digging my nails in and just petting it for the beautiful thing it was. He just kissed me. As if we’d never kissed, as if everything that had happened between us had been a dream,
