Page 105 of Surviving Slater
Had my words woken up something in him? I could hope, but I didn't want to build myself up.
This time he took his time. The feel of his body against mine was how I wanted to stay. The warmth of skin against mine, his breath against my cheek. His mouth slid against my skin as he moved down my body, and I gasped when he trailed kisses down my navel. I threaded my hand through his hair as his mouth worked magic, making me think of nothing else than what he was doing.
Unlike before, his touch was slow and caressing.
I clutched the sheets as his hot mouth found my core, and I gasped, my body tense as his tongue flicked against me.
The buildup was quick, and before I could cry out, I felt the first crash of my climax.
He left me only to get protection before he moved above me, and my legs opened so he could settle between them. His mouth found mine as he pushed inside me.
My hands gripped his waist and I panted as we moved as one toward a common goal of release. It was a moment I wanted to last forever but, like everything, it didn't. His mouth covered mine as he thrust into me just as I began to shake. His body tensed above mine and we came together.
Afterward he got rid of the condom and got back into the bed. Satisfied and tired, he held me and I savored it.
Sex with him had always been amazing but this one time was the one I would always remember. It had felt like so much more than just a physical act between two people seeking release.
I took comfort in the fact that because of my actions he would finally be relieved of the burden of his sister's death. At least I had given him something good out of it. Even if he wasn't mine anymore.
That night we slept peacefully until he began to thrash and call out his sister's name again in his sleep. I smothered the start of my tears as I held him, trying to soothe him while he woke up from the nightmare.
"It's okay," I said to him as his eyes opened and he realized it was only a dream.
He pulled away from me and ran a hand through his hair, still trying to make sense of what he had experienced.
I felt the overwhelming need to free him from this agony. I reached out and touched his arm.
"I have something I need to tell you."
He still looked so distressed, it tore at me. His eyes were on me.
I swallowed.
"I don't know how to tell you this..." I began to say, trying to figure out the best way to tell him while I clasped my hands together. "Before I tell you, I need you to know it was never my intention to hurt you."
His forehead creased.
At that moment, his words came back to haunt me about us getting hurt. He was right—it had been inevitable.
As our eyes connected, I wondered how he had foreseen this, or was it the simple fact that caring for someone gave them the power to hurt you? The only way to avoid it would be not to get emotionally attached to anyone.
"What do you need to tell me?" he asked when I quieted down.
Feeling more emotional, I slid out of the bed and pulled on one of his shirts. I was feeling so vulnerable so I crossed my arms.
"I love you," I said, needing him to know one last time how much he meant to me.
He slid out of the bed and pulled his jeans on.
"It's bad, isn't it?" he asked as I swallowed my fear.
There was a part of me that wanted him to say that nothing I could say would change the way he felt about me, but he didn't say anything.
"I have never cared for someone the way I do about you," I continued. "I've always kept myself from getting attached. It was easier. But then I met you and from that moment onwards it wasn't my choice anymore."
He stood before me, dressed only in jeans, his chest bare. I could still feel his skin under my hands.
"Then you rejected me." He tried to reach out for me, but I put my hand out to stop him.
