Page 38 of Liberating Bells
This is most definitely not a good idea. But I ignore the inner warnings and relent.
I take our beer bottles, both only half empty, and dump them down the sink. Then, grabbing her hand, I lead her back upstairs to my childhood room. She follows behind me and crawls back into bed, pulling the covers up over her shoulders. I observe her in the dark room, softly illuminated by the streetlights shining through the blinds.
Izabel is definitely babying that shoulder of hers. Maybe in the morning, I’ll suggest that she go get it checked out. She might have sprained or torn something.
I pull off my dress shirt and slacks, dumping them on the ground. I don’t care if they get wrinkled. I leave on my boxers and climb into the bed next to her. We put as much distance between us as the bed will allow. She’s curled up on her side, facing away from me. I lie on my back, staring up at the ceiling, hands resting on my stomach.
“Hey, Ryan?” she whispers after a while.
“Yeah?”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
This is the first time she’s spun the game around. I’m not that smart. Give me numbers or geometry, and we’re good, but random facts? No way. I wrack my brain, trying to come up with something, anything, that could take her mind off whatever it’s mulling about.
“I uh...I wrote you letters when I was in Germany. Or emails, actually. After we broke up. I didn’t send them, but they’re all still sitting in my drafts box on my email.”
I haven’t told anyone that. I deny it to myself most of the time too. It’s embarrassing. Pathetic. Weak.
I hear her sniffle, and then she squeaks, “Why?”
“You’re my favorite person in the world, Bells. I missed you. There was so much going on that I wanted to tell you about, but I didn’t want to hold you back. So I wrote it all down, but didn’t press send.”
Izabel sits up and inches closer to me on the bed. She crawls on top of me, being careful of her shoulder, and straddles my waist. My hands find her thighs on their own, running up and down her skin, feeling the baby hairs that are there.
Mark would murder me if he found us in this compromising situation.
“Hey, Ry,” she whispers again, leaning down so I can feel her t-shirt brushing against my chest. Her lips touch gently against my cheek, and my heart takes off in a sprint.
“Yeah, Bells.”
She presses her lips to mine in a feather-like kiss. “Will you help me forget? Just for tonight. Please.”
I groan as she moves toward me again, now fully claiming my lips. Her breasts press against my chest as she grinds her body over mine. My hands trail up from her thighs up underneath the t-shirt and run along the edge of her lacy panties that have been torturing me since I first saw them. She gasps against my mouth when I smooth my hands up her sides, holding her around her ribs lightly, my fingertips brushing the undersides of her breasts.
Izabel grinds her lower half against mine in maneuvered thrusts, and I jerk my hips up to meet hers. My body is on fire for her.
“Jesus, Bells,fuck,” I mutter against her lips, and she throws her head back with a moan, allowing me access to her neck, where I pepper kisses along her collarbone.
She gasps at the feel of my lips on her sensitive skin, her fingers digging into my chest, and I suddenly feel myself coming back to the present. This can't happen. Not here, not now. The evening comes crashing back onto me. I can’t do this to her, to me. I can’t.
I move to push her off, being gentle of her injury. “Bells. Stop.”
She keeps grinding against me and whines in displeasure. Her blue eyes look at me, betrayed.
“Stop,” I whisper, and she does.
Her dark eyebrows furrow, and I see tears start to well up in her eyes. “Why do you always do this? You always say no. Always turn me down. Is there something wrong with me?”
“Trust me, Bells,” I say, my voice thick. “There will never be a day that I don’t want you like that. But sex is not what you need right now. I know you’re hurting, and you want to forget, but this isn’t the way.”
She’s still straddling my hips, and I shift under her, moving from the right side of the bed to the left side. Izabel looks at me, confused, until I remove her from on top of me and settle her onto her side, pressed against me, lying on her good shoulder, her wounded shoulder exposed.
I don’t fault her for this. I’ve never seen my headstrong Bells so lost before. She looks at me as if she has no direction, no purpose in her life, and she’s grasping onto anything she can to keep her grounded. It kills me to know that she is so untethered.
“Just let me hold you tonight,” I murmur. “Let me hold you close and keep you safe. Let me help you this way.”
Izabel sniffles, and soon the tears consume her. Each one guts me, searing into my soul. I hold her tightly, letting her cry into my chest. With each sniffle and sob, I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing things were different. Wishing she was mine. Wishing that she would never have to experience this kind of pain ever again. I hold her until the tears subside, and her breathing evens out. Until she’s fast asleep, and her fingers, resting gently against my sternum, twitch with dreams.
