Laney’s head bobs in the water and I realize she can’t touch even though I can, her toes barely scraping the bottom of the pool as she wades next to me, probably getting tired. Instead of moving her back to the shallow end, I pull her deeper with me, forcing her to use me to float.
She doesn’t fight me, and it’s not until I wrap her legs around my waist that she has something to say. “Jessie… “
I grip her face in my hands, closing my eyes for just a moment to try and collect my thoughts. My heart is pounding in my chest and I’m sure she can feel it against her own. How can she not hear it when it only talks for her?
“Laney, just…” I lick my lips, lightly squeezing her face in my hands. I don’t want to hear whatever she’s going to say. I don’t care. “Just shut up.”
She frowns but I don’t give her a chance to respond, pulling her lips to mine. She goes stiff at the contact and my heart just about breaks in my chest as I hold her to me, willing her to kiss me back. To want to kiss me back. She needed me to help heal her heart for so long, and now I need her to make sure mine doesn’t break.
I feel her fingers move against my skin first, rising from the water to cradle my face the same way I have hers in mine. Her legs wrapping tighter around me as she presses into my lips, sinking into my touch like she craves me as much as I crave her. Relief floods my chest, the ache in my heart desperate for more of her.
Despite how much I want to run my hands over her, I keep them on her face, not wanting to do anything that’ll make her stop. She opens her mouth for me and I barely contain the groan that wants to come out. The taste of her is enough to drive me wild all on its own. She shifts in my arms, and I use the movement to my advantage, dropping my hands from her face to grip her thighs in my palms and slide them along her wet skin to cup her ass, pressing her tighter against me.
It’s been far too long since I had her in my arms like this and I’m almost scared to let her stop. I’m scared that if she does, she’ll tell me that what we’re doing is a mistake. That being with me is a mistake. It’s a lie I don’t want to hear, not from her sweet mouth.
Walking forward with her, I press her back up against the tile of the pool wall, adjusting her so I can feel each grind of her hips against my swollen dick and grab her tits through her shirt; they easily fill my palms, heavy in my hands even with her bra. I can feel her nipples hard through the thin cups, knowing that the outline of the lace is dark against the pale wet fabric of her shirt without having to look.
I want to taste her skin, suck one of her perfectly pink nipples into my mouth, but I keep my lips glued to hers, taking what I can with my hands. I’ve memorized every trace of her fingers on my skin, every dig of fingernails, tug at my hair, savoring each and every touch she places on my flesh.
I almost don’t hear it, the phone ringing from the pocket of Laney’s shorts. But even when I do, I keep kissing her, holding on to the last few seconds I get with her because I know the minute she hears it, she’ll pull away from me.
Almost the exact time I think it, she pulls her lips from mine. Her dilated pupils leaving my face to look in the direction of her clothes. I know what she’s about to say, so I speak before her, sparing my heart that kind of pain. “You should go, Laney Girl.”
Her breaths are still coming in quick pants, the water on her skin sparkling in the low light with each rise and fall of her chest as she looks from her phone to me, trying to find the words to say. I take her moment of uncertainty and pull her back to me for one more lingering kiss, dragging out the seconds it takes for our lips to part.
“Go, Laney.”
I almost wish she hadn’t listened, watching her pull from me to swim toward the pool ladder. Her footsteps are painful to watch, each slow step taking her farther from where I want her to be and closer to the monster who tore her from me. She pauses after sliding her shorts on, the shine in her eyes completely gutting me. She doesn’t even check her phone. Just forces a watery smile before heading toward the pool doors. At the thunk of the lock, I sink under the water drowning out the sight of her leaving.
My clothes are still wet when I walk into the house, my underwear leaving a dark wet stain on the butt of my denim shorts from the drive home. My hair is dripping at the ends. The baby hairs around my face curling and wild from not rinsing the chlorine before it started to air dry. I’m focusing on the way my feet squeak in my sneakers, the way my skin feels dry and my shirt is cold on my back. All the little unimportant details in an attempt to calm my racing heart and stop my hands from shaking.
Donatello is sitting on the
