Authors: Rachel Hanna
He holds my hands as I talk. He doesn't interrupt, but I see the concern on his face. When I take a breath, he says, "You didn't tell me everything, either, did you?" Because I've very much held his hide-the-stalker attitude against him.
Too much seriousness of late. I let the humor of it take me. "My stalker didn't shove you into the grill of a car."
He raises an eyebrow, which makes me want to lunge at him and start kissing. "My stalker sent presents." A “so there” toss of his head that makes me choke on my coffee.
"My stalker knows my secrets."
He thinks for a minute. "My stalker
was
a secret."
"No fair," I cry.
"All's fair in a completely made up game," Kellan says.
"What are you doing here, anyway?" I ask. "Are you moving back?"
He takes a breath and sits back, letting go of my hand so he can rest both arms along the back of the couch. "It's a pretty great house, isn't it? But it's Bruce's."
"O.M.G.," I say. "Not again."
He looks serious though not upset. "No, not again. We're not fighting Everything is fine. He's paying my rent till I get squared away with the VA job."
"Did you get it?" I ask, and Duh, Willow, why else would he need to get squared away with it?
He shakes his head, though. "No. I got one better. Working with a therapy group. They just need a moderator and someone to be there for the therapist because sometimes things get out of hand. It's – "
"Perfect!" I burst out
"Yeah, that." He leans over and kisses me. "But just because I don't live here anymore doesn't mean I don't have a room."
"I have a room," I compete, grinning at him.
"My room has a shower and tub in it."
"My room does too." So there.
He runs a finger down the length of my nose, then along my bottom lip. "My room is going to have me in it tonight." Leaning in, he kisses me very gently. "All night." His tongue traces my lips, briefly touches mine. "All night. Wide awake."
I look up into his eyes, run my own tongue along his mouth. Say, quietly, "My room is going to be empty."
"All night?"
"All night long."
* * *
My room isn't empty all night, though. Because we thrash his room, sending covers flying and gathering them up in clumps when we get cold again. We're wild the first time, mouths, hands, fingernails, feet curling around each others, hips straining, clothes tearing. There's sand on the sheets, sweat on our skin, and the bed is a shambles when we pull apart, panting.
"Race you to the shower," Kellan says, showing some of that awake all night he was promising.
"You win," I say, waving a hand.
"Huh uh, c'mon, lazy, up," and he levers me from the bed, hustles me into the shower where we stand pressed together in the spray, bodies slick, soaping each others backs and chests, Kellan's hands molding to my breasts, gently squeezing handfuls while my hands run down his back, the strong wide muscles tapering to trim waist, then down to cup his ass, strong and high and tight. I use it to pull him against me, feeling him pressing hard against my belly. His mouth on mine puts our faces into the spray, nearly drowning us both. We emerge sputtering, already chilled as we dry off and run down the hallway to my room, where the bed is pristine.
This time it's slower. This time it's his mouth hot on mine and my hands stroking him, making him harder than he's ever been with me before. This time our mouths open to each other, our hands grasp and stroke, fingers move to explore, kisses are long and deep. This time he rises up over me, supporting himself on forearms, modified cobra position yoga might call it, his hips definitely rocking forward and down, and he slides into me, rocking gently, taking all the time in the world, because we have it.
Lying in each other's arms, we drift off to sleep, the house warm around us, a storm starting to blow in off the ocean. In Seattle I was always a little afraid of the big storms with wind and rain slashing relentlessly. Here I'm comfortable, warm and safe, held in the arms of the man I love, the man who loves me.
We have a ways to go yet. Maybe working with a therapy circle Kellan will find help as well as give it. Maybe now I've confronted both the past that was and the past I believed I had, I'll be ready to reach out to a new therapist, or maybe I'll find the past is starting to fade, replaced by a future that no longer seems ruined.
The End
More by Rachel Hanna
:
RUINED
BROKEN
SAFE
CHRISTMAS IN MAGNOLIA COVE
LOVE IN THE FALLS
SECOND CHANCE
And more!
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.