Page 60 of Trust No Alpha
My stomach rumbled. For the first time in hours and hours my cock wasn’t hard. I was clean from yet another shower I’d had before my nap. My hair hung around me in unbrushed locks but smooth and freshly washed.
I got up and found some clean trousers and a blue knit pullover shirt. The house was warm as I padded down the hall toward the cooking sounds. I felt fairly strong for having been in bed for two days. My thoughts came easy, less darkened by fear and low self-esteem.
This was a welcoming home, and Thorne a friend who’d done things for me far beyond what friendship entailed. He’d been gentle but thorough, caring and soft-spoken. I remembered every detail, even the most feverish ones. Sweetheart, he’d called me. And once he’d said to me, “Come, love.” Or was that maybe spelled luv? I didn’t know.
When I thought of Thorne and pictured him doing the things he’d done to me, my chest swelled. Something in the pit of my stomach turned over, deeper than mere arousal.
Thorne looked up as I entered the kitchen. His lips curved up. “You’re looking much better!”
My heart skipped to see him greet me with such affection. But of course we’d shared affection. That was for sure. But could it be anything more than that?
“I feel more like myself now. Thank you.” My voice came out low and still damnably hesitant.
“Sit. I’ll feed you a good meal. You earned it.”
I earned it? No. He earned everything. He earned my honor and devotion forever. My loyalty would never be in question concerning him.
I sat at the table which faced the front yard. I saw that in two days the snow had melted off quite a lot. There were now large brown patches of earth showing through the pristine whiteness. The late afternoon sky was darkening to lavender with pale pink smears through it.
“Thank you,” I said again as Thorne set a plate before me filled with roasted chicken, cooked mushrooms, green beans and a baked potato.
“Eat up,” he said. “You need the calories.”
I dug in and it was the best meal I’d ever had for two reasons. Thorne was a good cook, but I was also ravenous.
Thorne had done so much for me I kept searching my mind for how to pay him back. What could I do?
I pondered as I ate. We talked very little but the silence did not feel awkward. Everything in the moment was right and good.
I helped him with the dishes afterward and we went into his living room to watch a movie.
Sitting together on the couch with space between us seemed entirely wrong. I was afraid to make any move. Stupid, I knew, since we’d touched so often so recently.
I barely saw the movie, or heard it. A breeze blew now and again against the windows and I heard that clearly as if my ear was pressed to the glass panes.
After the first movie ended, Thorne put on another until I was too sleepy to continue. I felt weird going off to bed alone down the shadowy hall, but that was our routine, our set up. After the Burn we needed to establish that routine again, and our usual boundaries.
He seemed unsure as he stood. “You will come to me if you feel anything wrong, won’t you?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Please. Don’t hesitate. You don’t have to knock. Just come to my room and get me and I’ll be here for you.”
The hollow place in my stomach tightened with want, but not the same need I felt during the Burn. When I did not immediately answer, but stood poised at the entry to the hall, he came up to me, brows narrowed.
“Say you will, Kris.”
I swallowed against my dry throat. “I will.” My voice came out rough.
In bed, feeling clean and free of the weight of the Burn, everything seemed right. Yet everything seemed wrong. I kept reaching out just to feel the solid warmth of a body nearby only to grasp at air and the new sheets I’d put on before climbing in for the night.
I was tired but couldn’t sleep. I kept turning over and over. I wanted Thorne next to me. I wanted to hear his breath and smell the salt of his skin. I wanted his hands on me. Not just sexually. But the touch of him. The presence of him.
I heard the boards creak overhead as he walked about his room getting ready for bed. I saw him disrobing in my mind, something I had not seen while he’d ministered to me. He’d kept his clothing on, or a robe the whole time. He’d never taken his own pleasure, I realized, and a flush crept up my entire body.
I imagined him sliding naked into his bed, alone in the dark, a man who had given everything to me. To me, a complete stranger less than a week and a half ago.
I curled into myself. My fingers formed fists. I grabbed a pillow and hugged it to my chest. My mind rushed over more memories and details of the past couple of days. I tried to breath deep and slow but I couldn’t calm down.
