Page 38 of Love Beyond Repair
“Shhh…” I whisper, but part of me doesn’t give a damn who hears.
Her orgasm builds, her walls tightening around me. I drop my hand to her clit, circling, coaxing her peak.
“Wait for me, baby,” I growl.
She holds on, barely, a choked cry being held behind gritted teeth escapes. Her legs tremble as pleasure takes over and I feel it hit us both.
That moment she shatters, crying out as I spill into her, my body shakes from the force of it. My grip tightens on her hips, holding her to me, wanting to stay inside her as long as I can. This is the perfect moment, her and I joined in this way, me filling her with my seed. Her telling me she was on birth control made me so fucking happy; I can’t imagine a barrier between us. I could do this with her forever.
We collapse side by side, tangled limbs and breathless silence. I wrap my arms around her, heart racing, mind spinning. It’s never felt more right. But heaven help me, somewhere deep down, it still feels like the beginning of something we’re not supposed to touch. Nothing good ever comes without consequence, in my experience anyway.
Chapter nineteen
Bex
My heart hammers in my chest as those eyes lock on mine. I’ve seen that look so many times, full of love and passion. I love the fact that it’s now one hundred percent for me. It still catches me off guard sometimes. After years of lusting after him, he’s really mine.
Now we’re sitting in a romantic restaurant, drinking each other in. The music is soft, the drinks expensive, and the food needs translating to understand. It’s unnerving, so far out of my comfort zone, I feel like I need my passport to be here. But I love it.
“So, what do you fancy?” I ask as I peruse the menu, pretending to know what each item is.
He glances up and smirks as I take a sip from my glass. “Well, your pussy was mighty fine last night.”
I swallow my wine the wrong way. It shoots out of my nose like a fountain.
“You can’t say things like that to me and expect me to act as if you’ve said something normal.” He winks, and my heart flutters. I’m in love with him. I’ve only just admitted it to myself, but I am.
We’ve been sneaking around for four months since The Riley Foundation Ball. The only people aware of our relationship are Eamon and Melissa. The privacy has been enjoyable; it’s given us time to move forward without other people’s opinions. But we both know we can’t stay a secret forever if we want a future together.
Ben’s still struggling with going public. I’m in touch with Kelsey on occasion, and Ben is in close contact with her dad. I’ve told him I don’t want to sneak around anymore. We’re not cheating. He’s adamant we’ll get a lot of negativity when people find out and keeps dodging the subject.
When it’s just the two of us, things are fantastic. But when we sit apart in groups, not allowed to touch each other, my heart breaks that little bit more.
I sometimes wonder if he’s embarrassed about being with me. The insecure teenager is rearing her head, whispering dark thoughts. She insists there’s no way a man like that wantsto be with me. He’s using me for sex. I’m not beautiful enough to be seen on his arm.
Since the ball, we’ve not attended any other public events. We go to obscure restaurants like this one or somewhere we can pass as platonic. I feel like a naughty schoolgirl stealing kisses from her boyfriend behind her parents’ backs. I don’t like it. Being kept a secret isn’t good for my heart or my mental health.
The waitress approaches our table. She’s an older lady with graying hair and an apron around her waist. She smiles kindly, glancing down at our hands intertwined across the table.
“What can I get you lovebirds to drink?” she asks. Her voice is so soft, it’s like she’s singing the words. “Could we have a bottle of the house white, please?” Ben says. She nods and wanders off toward the bar, as blazing blue eyes meet mine across the table. “You look stunning tonight.”
This is one of my favorite things about Ben. He’s always full of compliments that make me feel amazing. It’s not always what he says, but the way he looks at me that’s my undoing. He knows the right thing to say at the right time. When my confidence wavers over an outfit or I’ve had a bad day at work, he will wrap his arms around me, kiss my forehead, and say the words that take the worry away.
Our waitress returns with a bottle of wine and pours a splash into my glass. She does so elaborately, with a whiteserviette over her arm and the green glass held high. Ben gestures for me to try the wine. I stare at him blankly.
“Me?” I squawk, “I wouldn’t know a good wine from a bad one.”
He rolls his eyes at the server with a smile. “She never gives herself enough credit,” he tells her. “Just taste it, Bex.”
Laughing, I lift the glass to my nose, breathing in like in the movies. I tip my head back to take a small sip, swirling the golden liquid around my mouth, trying to taste different flavors. It’s sweet and sharp. Just like Ben, I think. After what feels like an age, I swallow and bring my eyes back to his.
“It’s perfect. Just like you.” He turns to the waitress, who’s watching our exchange intently. She looks as if she’s about to giggle like a schoolgirl.
“Yes, I think the wine will do,” he murmurs. She smiles and fills our glasses. “Can we have ten minutes before we order?” Ben pauses. “Maybe just some bread for the table. We’re in no rush.” Our server scurries off.
His hands tighten on mine, his eyes holding me in place. I’d love to know what he’s thinking. It feels as though he’s building up to say something, steeling himself. My nerves rise, the blood rushing to my head. That familiar panic growing in my chest. He’s about to change things.
This, what we have, makes me so happy. I’m terrified it will end. He smiles softly as if reading my mind.
