Page 5 of Over You
“I can’t do this.” Her voice snagged on a sob.
At one time, those words gave me pause. Unfortunately, over the past year, that declaration had been claimed over and over. Hell, I’d sworn I couldn’t do it so many times I had lost count, but like the boy who cried wolf, those threats had lost all meaning.
“I mean it, Spence. As much as I love you, I can’t keep enabling you by staying with you.” Guilt oozed from her tone.
I stopped with my hand on the door. “The way I see it,” I said with my back to her, “love doesn’t give ultimatums.” When I opened the sliding glass door to our bedroom, she screamed.
Metal scrapped over concrete.
I hesitated, watching in the window as she picked up the cocaine-covered patio table and hurled it into the pool. Water shot up in a massive splash.
I would have died for that girl. Over the years, I’d fought for her; I’d worked my fingers to the bones. I’d torn down the walls that had kept my heart safe so I could love her the way she deserved.
It should have been so simple. . .
3
Georgia
Water sloshed over the edge of the pool. The table sank, clanking on the concrete bottom like a weather-beaten battleship. I was angry and hurt and tired. Exhausted from the constant cycle of arguing and crying.
I had no idea how to help Spencer or how to help myself, and feeling powerless was not something I handled well.
Exhaling, I dragged my hands down my face. The therapist I’d been seeing told me I had to view Spencer and his addiction as two separate entities. But separating the two when they seemed so intertwined was something I’d yet to understand.
I crossed the patio to the French doors that led into our living room and went straight to the kitchen for a bottle of water. The refrigerator closed. When I turned around, Spencer stood behind me with a frown of regret etched on his face. “I’m sorry.”
The cold water ran down my throat, and I nodded. His apology was sincere, but then again, they always were.
He closed the space between us and gently placed his palm on my cheek. I leaned into his touch, rubbing against his calloused hands, and a familiar war bloomed between my heart and my head. Part of my soul lived and breathed for Spencer—for his touch—but there was a piece of me that resented him for picking up a handful of pills, a bag of coke. I loved him, but I hated him for putting us through this.
We used to have something perfect even though it looked like nothing, and now we looked perfect while we hardly had anything of true worth.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I promise. I’ll do better. For you.” His warm mouth pressed to mine, his tongue teased the seam of my lips, and I caved like always.
He scooped me into his arms and sat me on the counter. The cold granite against my bare thighs sent a chill over me.
“I promise you,” he mumbled against my throat while his fingers tangled in my hair. “Just forgive me.” His lips pressed at the corner of my mouth then moved to my jaw, my cheek. “I’ll do anything for you.”
I swallowed, choking on tears I wouldn’t allow to fall. “Okay.”
Warm fingers brushed underneath the hem of my shirt before it lifted over my head, then his hands caressed my arms, my shoulders, my back down to my hips. His thick tongue pressed against my throat while his fingertips teased the edge of my thong, almost dipping inside me. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
And that was how we worked, like a volatile storm, churning and destroying everything around it while leaving behind tranquil skies with the promise of a better tomorrow in its wake.
Spencer groaned when his finger slipped inside me. My muscles tensed. My head rolled to the side like it was on a broken hinge when he hit the spot even I couldn’t find.
I reached between us to unfasten his fly. “I don’t want to lose you.” I breathed when I shoved his jeans over his hips and gripped his hard length in my hand.
His mouth found mine again, kissing deep and hard, messy. “You won’t.”
He stepped between my thighs and nudged against me. My hips lifted on instinct in a bid to take him in. But he moved slow and steady, dragging out my need to feel him buried deep. Pressure faded into bliss, and I hooked my legs around his hips to draw him closer. Spencer played me like the strings of his guitar, coaxing chords and melodies from every fiber of my being. The clap of his thighs against the cabinets the percussion.
He was the only man I’d ever had sex with, yet I somehow knew there was nothing better. Making love to him was a taste of heaven and hell, something that brought me to the brink of ecstasy and torture.
His lips found my nipple. He pulled it between his teeth while his other hand gripped my shoulder for leverage so he could go deeper, harder. My breaths came in short pants while fire built beneath my skin, tension mounting like a dormant volcano begging to erupt. My arms went around his neck when he dragged me from the counter, and the grip of my legs tightened. Warm breaths fanned my ear while my breasts slid over his sweat-slicked chest. I thrusted over him while he fisted my hair with a hard tug. In moments like this, it felt like I was all that mattered to him.
