“I don’t want to think about it,” I murmur into his chest.
We stay like that for a little while. I love the feel of his arms around me, holding me protectively, and the way he buries his face in my hair. Why can’t I ever dream of Vincent? I pull away slightly and press my lips to his wanting to see another vision or feel that rush. He kisses back with the same fervor and I want it to be like this always. No more dreams of Casper. But I never see a vision.
Vincent pulls away, breathless. “Is this normal?” His lips graze my cheek.
“What?”
“Us. The intensity. The fact that I can’t stand being away from you and you’re always on my mind. Do you feel the same?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He smiles and my heart flips. “Are you hungry?”
“A little.”
“Do you wanna go out or wanna order in?”
“Let’s order in. Where are your parents? Was your mom released?”
He nods. “Yeah. They’re at my aunt’s. My mom has good days and when she does, she always likes to get out. It makes me nervous though. But my dad’s with her so I know she’s okay.”
I squeeze his hand. He orders Chinese and we hang out in his kitchen until it arrives. He makes me laugh and I feel better immediately. We eat and goof around a little. I love how easy it is being with him and how he instantly takes my mind off of everything.
“So, are you ever going to play that song for me?” I ask.
He cocks an eyebrow. “I don’t know if you can handle it.”
I laugh a little. “Why? Will I faint from the awesomeness?”
“You might.”
I roll my eyes. “I think I can handle it.”
“Okay.” He takes my hand and we go upstairs. We are the only ones here and it’s a little scary. We enter his room, which has music posters plastered to the walls. He has a sleigh bed and a TV on a table facing the bed and a dresser next to that. The bed sits in front of the windows. I peer out and groan when I see rain pouring down in sheets.
He comes up beside me, grabs his acoustic guitar, and sits on his bed. I sit next to him and he strums a couple of chords, tuning it. He plays a song and it’s sad but somewhat uplifting. I close my eyes, focusing on the lyrics, and I see a flash of something. It’s so quick I don’t know what it is, but the song sounds familiar. It’s like I’m having déjà vu.
“I feel like I’ve heard this before. It’s so strange.”
“It might sound like another song. I don’t know. It’s hard to be original these days.”
“You wrote that for me?”
“Yes.” He places his guitar back in its holder. “Do you like it?”
“Of course. It’s beautiful.”
“You need to have your ears checked. Nothing is more beautiful than you, Megan.”
I roll my eyes, but he takes my head in his hands and kisses me with an edge. His lips are almost possessive of mine. I see a vision of us running and laughing. We are happy in the vision and we kiss as if nothing else in the world matters. He is mine and I am his.
Vincent pulls away and clears his throat. “I’m still trying to get used to that.”
“Me, too. It’s like we’re meant to be together.”
“We are.” He kisses me again. “Do you want to watch a movie?”
I give a small laugh. “Sure.” I know he wants things to progress physically, and I do too, but I’m not ready especially after Saturday night. I shouldn’t have come up here.
Vincent pops in a random movie and gets on the bed. He leans against the headboard, pulling me into his lap.
I chuckle once I see The Fox and the Hound playing.
“What, it’s a good movie.”
“I’m gonna cry.”
He kisses the side of my head.
We watch maybe the first fifteen minutes and I feel his lips against my neck, sending chills all over. His lips move behind my ear and warmth floods my body. He moves to my shoulder. I turn my head and his lips are on mine. He moves on top of me and I wince.
“What is it?”
“My back.”
“I’m sorry. I should find that—”
I cut him off with a kiss not wanting to ruin the moment with his anger. He slides his hands up my shirt. Heat radiates inside of me. My pulse vibrates inside my ears.
“I want you,” he whispers in my ear. His hands and lips are everywhere, and I can’t keep up.
“Vincent,” I hesitate. Adam keeps popping in my mind.
“It’s okay. I’ll be gentle.”
My breathing is shallow, and I need to stop. Things are moving too fast for my brain to process. He stops long enough to remove his shirt, exposing his smooth chest and a couple of bruises.
“Did he do that?” I ask and sit up.
“Yes. But it’s okay.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry.” He kisses me, but I stop him.
“What? Please don’t stop.”
I swallow hard, not wanting to upset him. I look up to see the raw fire in his eyes. He moves in to take my sweater off and I let him. He tenderly raises it over my head, careful not to let it snag on my bandages, and takes my head in his hands and kisses me with such desire it’s overwhelming. His tongue finds mine and heat rises inside me. Feeling his bare skin against mine does things to me that I’ve never felt before. I want more. Especially when his fingers skim the edge of my bra.
He grinds against me and
