Beyond Repair (14 page)

“I can feel your clit too. Your clit’s all swollen and
stiff…man that’s fucking hot to feel. I had no idea, you know. I had no idea
you wanted it this much—why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, and for the first
time she wasn’t really sure. The reasons had seemed solid at the time…her
scarred body, her nervousness, his status, her need to just focus on him
instead of herself…

They’d all made sense when she’d thought of them.

But they made very little now that she could feel what she’d
been missing. All he had to do was crook one finger—just let the tip of it find
the underside of her clit—and sensation sparked along her spine. It made a fist
low down in her belly, so fierce she could hardly accept it. Her teeth clacked
together, every muscle tensing, and again she had the urge to tell him no.

No, I can’t take it
, she thought of saying, only
somehow she ended up doing the opposite. Her body simply took over—much to his
delight and amusement.

“Yeah, yeah, you like that, huh? Oh yeah you like that—go
on, go on, take it. Take as much as you want,” he said, while she slowly
processed what she’d started doing. She could hardly believe it but there it
was anyway—somewhere in the middle of all this, she’d started rocking against
his hand.

Not even just rocking, really. She was actively getting
herself off, hips rolling in the lewdest way possible, body tensing and
releasing with the effort. It was utterly mortifying to realize and completely
beyond the pale…but dear Lord did it feel amazing. She didn’t care, she didn’t
care, it felt fucking
fantastic
. She almost sobbed when he pulled his
hand away.

Then
did
actually sob when he put it back.

She hadn’t the faintest clue what was worse. Getting what
she wanted or not getting it…and all with a background buzz of
oh my god
he’s teasing me
. Because he definitely was—she could see it all over his
face. He wanted to drive her nuts just like she’d driven him nuts, even though
hers hadn’t been on purpose.

Didn’t it count that hers hadn’t been on purpose?

She hadn’t meant to do it, and she certainly wouldn’t have
if she’d known how fucking agonizing it could be. It was like climbing to the
top of a mountain only to discover there was another bigger mountain behind it.
It was like biting into a bar of chocolate and finding only empty air.

It was like all those things, if all those things had also
been completely awesome.

Good God, it was awesome. He didn’t even have to touch her
now to make that tingling, buzzing sensation happen. He just had to hover his
fingertips over the now-damp and very rude-looking place between her legs,
almost descending when he got to her embarrassingly obvious clit but then
darting away at the last second.

And just when she was sure it couldn’t get any more
intense…just when her whole body felt like one big ball of tension…he leaned
down. He leaned down as though he were going to
lick
her there. He even
turned his head a little and parted his lips, tongue peeking out to wet the top
one—like a goddamn
hint
, like a
suggestion
.

But thank Christ he backed away.

She didn’t know what would have happened if he’d actually
done it.

And then he just went ahead and fucking
did
it
.
He mouthed at her through the material, so soft it should have felt like
nothing. Only it didn’t, it didn’t, Lord in heaven it didn’t. She felt every
inch of those plump lips pushing against her pussy. She felt the flicker of his
tongue dragging over that flannel in a way that was somehow more unbearable
than if she hadn’t been wearing anything at all.

It was almost like getting a double touch—the hint of
wetness and heat from his tongue, and then the maddening pull of damp material
as he eased it over her clit. She didn’t know how to take any of it. This time
she did tell him
no, don’t, stop
, but as she had a hand in his hair at
the time—and that hand was definitely not pushing him away—it didn’t have quite
the desired effect.

Instead he laughed, to hear her saying no while pulling him
closer. “Are you sure about that?” he asked, and for one horrible moment she
was sure he was going to torment her with her indecision. She went rigid
waiting for it, waiting for him to pull back a little and tease her until she
died. It would have been easy. She was half-dead already.

So it was a relief when he chose a different path. He held
her gaze, as mischievous and devilish as she’d ever seen him, and then he
licked again. He covered her pussy with his mouth and he
nuzzled
—which
sounded like nothing on paper but felt like being on fire in practice.

She had to tighten that hand in his hair just to get through
it. Her whole body stuttered, as if he’d attached her to the mains. And the
sounds
she made…the moans and grunts and incoherent encouragements… They were just
beyond anything she’d ever heard from her own mouth.

At one point, she was pretty sure she told him to
rub her
clit
. Of course it came out
mmm mm mmmmmm
, but the sentiment was
definitely there. Maybe more than the sentiment was there, because once she’d
pushed those semi-words out he did just that. He used his tongue and his lips
and finally his fingers, stroking over her in this insanely intense exploratory
way when the other things weren’t quite enough.

He found the exact shape of that stiff little bud, circling
and circling until she wasn’t sure how she hadn’t come yet. She’d been on the
edge for what seemed like forever, yet still nothing. It almost felt as though
she were waiting for something, though she couldn’t quite figure out what that
was.

More of this? More of that?

Nothing seemed quite right—until he moved back up the bed.
Until he said,
I want to kiss you as you come
.
Then
it was
enough. He pressed his lips to hers, eyes open all the time and just looking
and looking as he stroked her into that first surge. The one that always took
her by surprise, before petering off into nothing.

It didn’t peter off into nothing here, however. Another one
followed that first spike of pleasure, far stronger than any she’d ever known.
It would have forced a gasp out of her, if there hadn’t been a third delicious
wave to contend with. If she hadn’t been drowning in everything that was already
happening, struck dumb by the intensity and the force of it and his gaze still
locked with hers.

Oh that gaze of his…

Did he understand what that did to her? That it was those
eyes of his that took her breath, that made her silent, that pushed her orgasm to
new heights? It was the way he looked at her that forced a sob at the last
second, full of all the helplessness she suddenly felt. She had to grab hold of
him and hang on, and part of her hated him for that. Mostly because she knew
then that she loved him.

But also because he quite clearly knew it too.

It took her a moment to realize what she was hearing. For
one sleep-fogged second she was sure she was still dreaming, because reality
didn’t usual come with an ’80s electro-synth soundtrack of the kind her mum
used to love so much. It was only when she was unconscious that Kyle Reese
decided to save her from killer robots from the future, while Brad Fiedel
thundered in the background. Usually when she woke up, those things faded away.

But not today—no, on this particular day her home was
flooded with it. That haunting theme rolled up the stairs and thrummed through
the bedroom, so sweet and strong it made her ache. It wasn’t
The
Terminator
,
however. He wasn’t watching anything so easy to attribute to a guy like him.

He was watching
Starman
.

She had no idea why—out of all the thousands of movies she
had—but he was doing it just the same. She couldn’t even pretend he’d left it
on for her, before maybe slipping out the door. He was never going to just slip
out of the door, no matter how weirdly she imagined him doing it. He wasn’t the
kind of guy to do that. She saw it very clearly now, more clearly than she’d
been willing to before.

He was the kind of guy who watched sad movies at 6:00 a.m.,
with the soundtrack turned way, way up. He was the kind of guy who said,
Hey,
hey come here quick this is my favorite part
when she got to the doorway to
the living room, so engrossed he didn’t see what was weird about this—either
that or he didn’t care. He’d probably wanted her to wake up and come down and
do this with him.

That
was the kind of guy he was.

“Come on, come on,” he said, waving her over in a way that
suggested yet another lovely thing. Once she got there, he was going to put his
arm around her. Did he realize that he always put his arm around her when they
watched stuff together? Probably not. She hadn’t even realized she stroked the
back of his neck the way he’d said she did.

They were just the little touches and caresses that they’d accumulated,
over two weeks of intense intimacy. Two short weeks that could have been a
thousand years, for all the things she felt as she settled down to watch with
him. She felt safe. She felt secure. The worries from the day before fell away.

For a little while, at least.

A very tiny while.

“They think I’m dead, you know.”

He said it matter-of-factly, the way most people might say
the weather’s meant to be fine tomorrow. He didn’t glance away from the screen
to give it a little extra importance. He just kept staring and staring straight
ahead, as though to say, Starman
is of more significance to me than this
news
.

And she believed him too. It seemed as if he really meant
this indifference, despite that being a complete contradiction in terms. When
she didn’t answer he didn’t say anything more, and after a while he began
commenting on the movie. “I had such a crush on Karen Allen as a kid,” he said,
and suddenly she was thinking of completely different things too—like the fact
that he probably wasn’t old enough to have had a crush on Karen Allen. He was
only twenty-seven. Surely Cameron Diaz would have been more his speed? But then
again he did like the classics.

He must mean when she was in
Raiders of the Lost Ark,
she thought, then wanted to shake herself for going off on this tangent with
him. Had he really just said that people thought he was dead, or had she
dreamed it?

“Bernie, are you serious?”

“About Karen—”

“No, not about Karen Allen. Having a crush on Karen Allen is
a perfectly understandable and ordinary thing. Being dead to the people in your
life is not.”

“I’m pretty sure you know I don’t really have any people in
my life. Or at least, none that I care about. And certainly none that care
about me.”

“Even so…you didn’t say anything to anyone?”

“Did you really think I had? Was that what you imagined?”

“I don’t know what I imagined. I thought I should maybe just
try to give you space to work things out, you know? Not badger you about it. I
mean you pretended your phone wasn’t working, so I just figured you wanted to
be free of all that.…”

“You saw me do that and you didn’t even feel like calling me
on it?”

“Why would I call you on it? You didn’t do anything wrong.
It’s okay to want a break from everything, you know. It’s okay to be tired of
your life.”

He did glance at her then—for obvious reasons. He wanted her
to see the gratitude in his eyes, and she did. There was no need to add
anything or make it all clearer, not even if she kind of wanted to.
I’m
tired too
, she wanted to say, but instead found herself just going with
something light and carefree.

“So are you all over the news?
Holden Stark Has Possibly
Sexed Himself to Death, Says Unnamed Dubious Source
.”

“Are you the dubious source in this scenario?”

“You haven’t sexed yourself to death with me.”

“I dunno. Yesterday was a close thing.”

“I swear I didn’t mean to give you that second blowjob.”

“So your face just fell on my penis?”

“Yeah that. That is what happened.”

“Is that your official comment for
TMZ
?”

“No my official comment is
he keeps letting me
.”

He laughed then, but she could hear the faint sadness behind
it. This wasn’t like having a discussion about who was the best Thundercat.
This was like having a discussion about reality, and reality sucked. It always
had and it always would, and just to prove it his laughter started to wilt. His
smile wavered, then drooped, then finally disappeared altogether.

And then they were left with the cold, hard truth.

“You know I gotta go, right?”

Of course he did, of course he did. What other end could
there be to this? She’d always been pretty clear in her own mind that they
couldn’t remain like this forever, what with his career just waiting out there
for him and real life buzzing beyond her front door—the very idea of shutting
themselves in here to infinity was fucking nuts. She was certain it was, right
up until the point where he added more words.

He added more impossible, unbelievable words.

“Unless you want me to stay?” he asked, after which she
wasn’t sure what to think or say or do. She expected a surge of happiness—that
was the problem. She had been prepared for disappointment and he wasn’t giving
it to her, so there should have been some happiness here. Some sense of relief
that finally, finally things had turned out in the best possible way for her.

Things never turned out in the best possible way for her.

This was supposed to be a goddamn revelation.

Yet somehow it wasn’t, it wasn’t.

She found herself swallowing thickly instead—as though there
was something heavy and dry low down in her throat. And the words she’d planned
to say in this situation simply slid away, despite how good they sounded in her
head.
I want you to stay here forever
, she thought, and just couldn’t go
with it.

She did want him to stay here forever.

But the truth was…what if he did? What then? For a start the
world would end up viewing him as some kind of hermit mental case—just like
they probably did her, if they ever still thought about the girl she’d been.
And then there was the question of what they would do together, with eternity.

Watch movies for the rest of their lives? Maybe at some
point he’d manage to inch her out onto the sand, but she couldn’t see herself
going beyond that. What kind of life would that be for him, living with a
girlfriend who couldn’t go beyond a beach? He was used to flying at a moment’s
notice to fancy restaurants in Paris, and she would never, ever be able to do
that.

Not ever. God, no. No, not that.

So really it wasn’t a surprise when she answered, “I want to
say yes, but I think it’s better if I say no. I think it’s better if you go—at
least to sort yourself out.”

She immediately wanted to take that last part back. It
sounded like such a cop-out, like such a lame excuse for something she wanted
rather than anything that might benefit him. And she could see he knew it too.
For the first time, he looked at her with something other than affection or
desire. He looked at her with disappointment.

Like I let him down when he needed me most
, she
thought, and wanted to poke out both her own eyes. Without them she wouldn’t be
able to see this—though alas she could still hear it. His voice sounded just a
touch dull, when he answered her.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he said. “My agent is pretty
much beside himself—not to mention the preproduction meetings I’m supposed to
be turning up to on Tuesday. I guess it just makes sense to get back to
reality.”

“It definitely does. If you’ve got contracts and
obligations…”

“I do. I have a lot of them. A lot of people relying on me.”

“And so many fans out there must be worried.”

“They probably are. And I hate disappointing my fans,” he
said, and she came very close to offering him another sensible platitude. She
came so close in fact that she actually spoke the first word aloud, before
realizing how poisonous it sounded. How gross and unhelpful and most of all
untrue. He hadn’t missed anything. He wouldn’t be glad to get back into it.

That was the whole fucking point of this.

So instead, she said what she should have done from the
first.

“I know you don’t really mean any of that. I know how much
your life is killing you. I saw it killing you on my living room floor. And if
you don’t want to go back to it, then for God’s sake don’t, please don’t. I
would die if you were hurt because I couldn’t say how I truly feel.”

“And what do you truly feel?”

She looked away at something else, anything else.

She had to just to get the words out.

“Like I can never really be what you deserve. You know
I…I’ll never be able to go on a date with you. I won’t be able to go grocery
shopping or antiquing or any of the other things normal couples do.”

“You think I want to go antiquing? I thought you knew me
inside and out, Al. That’s scarily off base for someone who understood I liked
having my ass licked before I even knew about the fucking thing.”

“It’s not…you know what I mean.”

“I don’t. Try explaining a little more clearly.”

“I’m not enough. I will never be enough.”

“Shouldn’t I get to decide that?”

“You can. You can decide it while you’re away,” she said,
but it was clear both of them knew what that really meant. He wasn’t going to
decide at all. He was going to see the only possible way things could be,
because he was able to walk out the front door and she wasn’t. He would go on
with life—maybe as a movie star, maybe not.

And she couldn’t.

“I don’t have to. I don’t have to go anywhere to know how I
feel about you. To know that it doesn’t matter to me whether we go on dates or
not. I’ve been on a lot of dates, honey. None of them have ever made me think,
yeah, I could live in this woman’s basement for the rest of my life.”

God, her heart was beating so fast—probably because it had
two reasons to.

The first was how wonderful and romantic and loving he was.

The second was terror, oh Christ, it was incredible fucking
terror.

“Eventually you’re going to want more than my basement.”

“And what if I do? Yesterday you walked out onto your deck—and
I’m guessing it’s been a long time since you did that. You really think you’ll
never be able to do more? Never be able to let me help you do more? I’m here
for you, okay? I’m here,” he said, and that pretty much sealed it. The romantic
part of this fought a hearty battle, but in the end terror won. He was going to
be
here
for her, for God’s sake.

He thought she could really take him being here for her.

“You know what my favorite part of this movie is?” she
asked. “In the beginning, when she’s in her little cabin drinking her wine,
watching those home movies of her once-happy life and grieving over her dead
husband. You know why?”

“I’m afraid of the answer, but want you to tell me it
anyway.”

“Because she’s so desperately sad, and yet I know what’s
coming. That’s the thing about movies, the beauty of movies—you just wait a
little while and everything will be okay again. You know he’s coming for her.
In a little while a man will fall from the sky and make her okay again. Do you
know how many times I’ve wished for a man to fall from the goddamn sky?”

“I feel as though you’re trying to make some kind of point.”

“The point is the same for every movie I love. No one is
really coming to rescue Jenny Hayden—not in reality. In reality there is no
magic, no alien or angel or superhero to save you. In reality, Jenny sits on
the rug and watches the movies forever and drinks her wine and that’s it.
That’s the real ending, you know that’s the real ending. No one comes across
time for Sarah Connor, and Hawkeye doesn’t return for Cora, and Captain Amazing
doesn’t catch Amy Anderson as she falls from the sky.”

She wished she hadn’t added that last one. She hadn’t meant
to add the last one, but it was there now and oh it was stinging behind her
eyes. She could hardly get the last word out—her voice caught right on the end
syllable.

And she knew he could hear and see it.

He always heard and saw it—even when she didn’t let it show.

“It doesn’t have to be,” he said, so gentle, so gentle.

But that only made it worse. It only made it harder to tell
him.

“It will be,” she said. “You’ll see.”

* * * * *

She tried not to think about him. That was her best bet—to
just put the whole thing out of her mind as though it had never happened. That
method had worked well for her in the past. It would work just as well here,
she was sure it would. She fell back on her old routines—watching films and
shows obsessively, reading well past four in the morning, keeping herself busy
with mundane house tasks when her eyes started to bleed—and for a while that
seemed to succeed.