He rests his forehead to my shoulder, and I feel his body tremble against mine. I squeeze my eyes shut, hold on to the doorknob with all my might, and fight the urge to face him. Then I feel dampness soak through my blouse to my skin and his shoulders begin to shake, and I’m a goner. When I spin around to face him, I catch a glimpse of tears streaming down his face before his arms encircle me, drawing me against him in an embrace so tight I barely can breathe.
My arms instinctively wrap around his neck and I stroke the back of his hair with my fingers, while whispering soothing reassurances. “Everything will be okay, Rod. We won’t stop until we’ve helped her beat this once and for all. You won’t lose her, and I won’t leave you to face this alone. I’ll be right here every step of the way.”
We drop to the floor in a heap, his weight pulling me down with him, but my body intuitively reacts as if we’re one. While holding on to me, he rearranges us so I’m straddling his lap, his arms are around my waist, and he buries his face in the crook of my neck.
If not for the tears I feel falling onto my skin, I’d dash out of this room in search of safety from the desire screaming inside my mind. But his intense agony is palpable, and as a fellow human being who shares his fears, I can’t leave him to suffer through this alone. Though my heart is heavy remembering how we parted, I push that aside and focus on today.
Then I feel his lips on my neck, softly caressing the sensitive skin there and setting my body on fire. His tight grip around me loosens, and he splays his hands on my back, the heat of his hands searing my skin through the thin material of my shirt. He slides them up my back and around to my face, never breaking contact. He leaves kisses along my jawline as he works his way toward my mouth.
I’m holding my breath, as if that’ll somehow shield me from the need building inside me.
He stops just short of his lips reaching mine before he looks up at me. Our eyes lock, and I feel as if I’m staring into a mirror. We’re a breath’s width away from spontaneously combusting into flames. Desire shines in his blue eyes, along with so many other emotions swirling just beneath the surface.
In his eyes, I see regret for the past, hope for the present, and uncertainty for the future. We have an inability to mutter those three little words, an invisible wall that prevents us from growing too close, and years of creating masks and layering ice around our hearts.
The longing to tear it all down is there. But the need to keep it all intact, to preserve our own sanity, is in control.
All these emotions stretch between us, contained in a single heartbeat.
“I need you, Daisy.” His voice is strained, with misery, with heartbreak, and with a deep vulnerability he’s completely uncomfortable showing. “I need to feel your warmth, your touch, your love.”
“Rod” I don’t know what else I meant to say. All I can do is utter his name in response.
I’m not a pushover. I’m not weak. I’m not prone to falling for promises in the dark that’ll never be fulfilled in the light.
But something about what this man makes me feel has been so different from anyone else I’ve ever met. Is it fate? Or destiny? Is the universe pushing us together?
“I’ve fucking missed you so much. You have no idea how much.”
“Oh, God…” Those two words are all I can muster.
Our mouths clash with a heated fervor, unable to get enough of the other. His hands slide under my dress and push my panties to the side. He pushes his finger deep inside me, and I suppress the moan aching to escape. He increases his tempo and my hips rock, keeping time and searching for more. With he adds a second finger, I clamp my teeth down on his shoulder and dig my fingers into his skin, riding the wave of pleasure until it subsides. My hands move to his zipper, desperate to free him.
With his pants out of the way, I position him at my entrance. He holds my face in his hands as I sink lower, taking as much of him inside me as I can. My hips rock front to back, side to side, and grinding in circles, searching for that sweet release. As I move up and down, we sync our movements. He thrusts upward as I descend on him once more. Our sensual frolic turns frantic instantly, and he flips us so that’s he’s on top and driving relentlessly into me. When we reach the edge, he covers my mouth with his and swallows the cries that would’ve reverberated throughout his enormous mansion.
He collapses on top of me, his chest heaving for breath from the exertion. He’s still inside me, still pulsating after his release, and I have no clue what to expect next. When he eventually pushes up, he avoids making eye contact when he suggests we quietly move to separate bathrooms to clean up before joining the others.
Regret instantly fills me as I realize what just happened. Or, I should say why it happened.
His needing me, missing me, wanting to feel me again, none of it had anything to do with me. He’s using sex to feel some kind of connection to another person outside of his family. The way he keeps everyone else in his life at arm’s length is a form of
