Revive (A Redemption Novel)

by Marley Valentine

  His body sags against the couch, his breathing loud and ragged.

  “That good, huh?” I tease.

  He leans forward, kissing me, hard and full of purpose. “You got no idea.” He stands up, offering me his hand. “Come. Show me your shower.”

  Both naked, and fulfilled, we wait by the shower stream in contented silence. His front to my back, arms wrapped around my stomach, chin resting on my shoulder. This is different.

  In a matter of hours, our time together has shifted. If I thought I wanted to see where things with Drix went before the night took a turn, now I don’t know if I’d even be able to walk away.

  I could chalk it up to good sex, but I’d be lying. It’s him. He’s intense. He’s addictive. He’s all-consuming and the craziest part is he doesn’t even know it.

  We step into the warm spray, standing face to face. As we stare at one another, words don’t feel relevant, and by the way he’s lighting me up with his eyes, it’s evident he feels it too.

  A quick look around has him holding up my loofah and body wash in question. I nod and move farther into the water. I close my eyes wanting to just experience it. Slowly, he draws circles along my skin with the soapy sponge. Leaving suds in his wake, he washes every inch of me with overwhelming reverence.

  Raising my arms in the air, I tip my neck back and let the spray cascade all over my hair and body.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?”

  I suck in a quick breath, trying to hide how deep his words reach, amazed that this is where we are at right now. Taking the loofah out of his hand, I wash his body. Doing the opposite, I start at his legs, and work my way up, knowing me on my knees in front of him for a second time will drive him wild.

  We’re back to standing face to face, even closer than minutes before. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

  I switch off the water and pull down the towel that hangs over the glass door. I wrap it around the both of us, bringing him closer. I waste no time, kissing him because I want to, kissing him because right now it’s impossible not to.

  We kiss until our bodies are dry, and the cold starts to seep in. We kiss out of the bathroom and into the bed, stopping for the small things that lead us to our destination.

  I wrap myself around his body, head on his chest, arm over his torso. “Is this weird?” he asks, running his fingers through my hair.

  I pretend to not know what he’s asking. “What’s weird?”

  “I can’t stop touching you.”

  Letting my vulnerability seep through, I ask, “Is that bad?

  “This whole night has been unexpected, that’s all.”

  I leave the admission alone. It’s not like I don’t agree, but I don’t want to hear doubt, or anxiety if the conversation persists. I would rather listen to my body, feel it through every kiss. Know within myself that this is a deviation from the norm, but it’s a good one.

  It’s an unapologetic attraction where any walls between us become walls around us, keeping everything else out. Every time we touch or kiss, it’s like we’re abandoning the rest of the world, giving in to our most basic and carnal needs; letting our physical connection bleed into our emotional one.

  “Tell me about your drawing.”

  “When I was nineteen, I planned the trip of a lifetime.” With our skin so close, and his heartbeat in my ear, I share my most painful story. “I don’t have any siblings, and growing up, as sad as it may sound, my parents, especially my dad, were my best friends. They supported and encouraged me through everything.

  “At this stage, I’d finished six months of University. I didn’t hate it, but I felt restricted. So, I said to my parents, ‘I’m going to hit the pause button, go travelling and come back to finish.’” The stroking of my hair continues, soothing me more than he probably realises. “As usual, there were no complaints or concerns, as long as I came up with the money for my trip myself. I worked my ass off, day and night, to come up with the money, but eventually, I had a perfect amount to know it was happening.”

  “Where did you work?” he asks, interrupting with unexpected curiosity.

  “I worked in hospitality. Swapped from front of house to bartending; I was a real jack of all trades, depending on what time of the day it was, and I was happy to do it, just to save more money. Plus it was a global industry. If I needed extra cash overseas, it would be easier for me to find a job anywhere, and keep it.

  “Anyway, long story short, I saved for the trip, and me and my dad planned it together. Every flight, every trek, every hotel, there was nothing we hadn’t thought out. It was his holiday just as much as mine. Him and my mum had done a lot of travelling before they had me, and he was so excited I was going to be able to experience the same things as him.”

  I close my eyes and count to five, mentally preparing myself for the next part of the story. “Five days before my trip, he dies. Heart attack.” My vision blurs as the tears begin to form. The time that’s passed seems so insignificant when I talk about the day he died. The ache and the shock always hit me as hard as they did the exact moment I found out. The tears start to fall, and I shift my hand to wipe them, but he stops me. His hand covers mine, keeping them both on his chest.

  “Keep going.” His invitation to let my guard down opens the floodgates. A small pool of water now forming on his bare skin.

  “He was the healthiest person I knew, not one single vice. And in a second he was gone.” He threads his fingers through mine, squeezing tightly. Empathy and sympathy evident in his actions. “I wanted to cancel my trip and my mum insisted it wasn’t necessary.”

  “It was probably the grief laced with truth, and our biggest fight to date, but my mum rushed the funeral and had his body cremated in no time. Pushing me to go. She gave me ashes in an urn and told me to lay him to rest around the world, so there was never a corner of the earth that couldn’t feel him.” More tears fall, as I dredge up the hurt. “I wanted to be there for her, and she said she needed to be alone because she didn’t want to rush, and needed to be alone to say goodbye to the love of her life. Her words successfully pushed me onto that plane, and my holiday became a heavy-hearted escape.”

  A surprise kiss to the top of my head gives me the strength to get through my next sentence. “I cried more tears than I ever thought possible as I left a piece of him and my childhood in every place I visited. It will always be the hardest thing I ever had to do.”

  “For the sake of the story I have to admit to you I am a huge Phil Collins fan, and my favourite Disney movie is Tarzan, because the whole soundtrack was sung by him.” His chest rumbles in soft laughter underneath me, and a small giggle leaves my mouth in following. “When I was younger, my dad had this cassette tape of Phil Collins live, and I listened to it ‘til it literally fell apart. The Christmas before he died, I bought him Phil Collins Live in Berlin on DVD, hoping to replace the one I broke.

  “So, on my trip, I made a friend.” I feel him tense, and I smile to myself, secretly. “For me, it was puppy love at its finest. I followed him everywhere as he became my crutch in all the ways he shouldn’t. It was our last night together and I was in my room crying. Overwhelmed by the loss of my dad, my emotions just transferred. Shifting to me being unexplainably upset at leaving Dylan. Next thing you know, I’ve got a random playlist on, music blaring through my room, and I’m sitting on the balcony of my hotel and ugly crying, oblivious to the world.”

  Lifting myself off of Hendrix’s chest I sit up, pulling the sheets up enough to cover me, and face the reason behind this whole conversation. He watches me as I focus on the drawing, getting lost in my own story.

  “As I was crying, ‘You’ll be in my Heart’ by Phil Collins comes on. It was so cheesy and tragic, but it was so perfect. To say I was a mess would be an understatement, in that moment I lost myself to the hurt, but I also let go of it. I hear something from inside the room, and I turn to see Dylan standing there taking pictures.”

  I look back at Hen
drix. Transfixed by my confessions, his eyes don’t waver from my face. His attention on me, afraid to miss a thing.

  “That moment was a turning point for me,” I continue. “Like the universe sent me a message from my dad in song lyrics and I needed to dust off my knees, get up, and keep living. Months after I returned home Dylan sent me the photo in the mail; he’d written the words The Next Chapter on the back.”

  Crawling over to my bedside table, I pull out the original and hand it to Drix. “It became the reminder I needed as I lived my life, and more and more years passed without my dad.”

  “I moved into this place after I got my first full-time job, it was my next chapter. I sketched the photo on the wall while drinking a whole bottle of wine and listening to Phil Collins on repeat. For days and months after, I added the details to the drawing whenever life got a little bit too much.”

  I glance over, and he’s still staring at the photo. My mind wondering what he sees when he sees it.

  “The obvious point of this story is my dad is always with me, but it’s the message within the message that resonates more, the older I get—” I cut myself off waiting to see if he looks back at me. He does expectantly like he’s waiting on bated breath for my wisdom.

  “It’s not that inspiring,” I warn.

  He nudges my knee with the back of his hand. “I want to hear it anyway.”

  “Whatever it is, I’m going to survive, just like I did the last time. Days, months, years. The time frame doesn’t matter. In the end, I want to be able to look back and say, ‘I survived it.’”

  Lowering my chin to my chest, I simultaneously try and pull the blankets higher up my body, feeling heavily unguarded.

  Fingers tip my face up, bringing my eyes to his. “I know it was a while ago, and I said it before, but I really am sorry about your dad.”

  I nod, accepting his condolences.

  He sits up at a ninety-degree angle like he needs a better look at me. He tucks my hair behind my ear before skating his thumb across my bottom lip. “For what it’s worth, I’m sure your dad would be so proud of you right now.”

  He places the softest kiss on my lips, and naturally my body lights up at his touch, ready to take it further. “Stop,” he says, moving back. “I owe you an explanation.”

  15

  Hendrix

  The words surprise us both, me more than her. I’ve never wanted to talk about anything to anyone. Not about my mother, about what went down with Jagger and obviously, not Sasha. Originally I kept things to myself because I didn’t want to burden others, but then my burdens turned into secrets, and those secrets have taken charge of my life.

  Taylah agreed to me coming over because we had the intention to talk. We may have allowed ourselves to get side-tracked, but she deserves an explanation about tonight, and even if it feels out of character, it’s still something I know I can do.

  “What are you talking about?” she asks, perplexed.

  “Tonight at the restaurant. When it all went to shit. I want to—”

  “Drix.” She leans forward, stopping short of my mouth. “We’ve come so far from that moment.”

  “I know, but it’s the right thing to do.”

  “Fine.” She pulls back, her eyes like laser beams, piercing through me. “What is it that’s got you so worked up?”’

  A few long seconds pass and the ability to speak seems to have gone missing. The rush of confidence, dwindling. I know I can bail, redirect the conversation to anything else and she'll let me.

  As stupid as it sounds, I don't know how to talk about myself. I don't share feelings, I don't let anyone in, and I sure as hell don’t ever get deep and meaningful with someone I’m sleeping with.

  I'm scared of the vulnerability, scared to say something stupid, or even worse, something I can’t take back. But the voice inside my head is nagging at me to talk to her, to tell her things. To show her me. “Fuck.” Pinching the bridge of my nose, I shake my head like the motion might just make everything make sense.

  “God, Drix you're killing me here.” She looks around the room, and then back at me. “Lie down.”

  “What?”

  “Lie down. Let's sit the way we were before, and you don't have to look at me.”

  “But I like looking at you.”

  “When you're about to fuck me, yeah, but whatever it is you’re trying to say has you looking like a fish out of water.”

  She fusses around with the bedding like she’s tucking in a child. I let her. Laying back down, we come together like magnets, her body wrapped around mine, my hands on her, and her head listening to the erratic beats of my heart.

  With her dainty fingers roaming around my chest, I stare at the ceiling and let her soothe me into solace. Without admitting to the comfort of not having Taylah’s eyes on me right now, I dive straight into the pool of me and her. “This feels a lot more serious than I’m used to,” I start. “At the restaurant, I was a dickhead.” I feel her trying to get up in protest, so I hold her tighter. “You walked in that restaurant tonight, and sat with me and my friends like you belonged in my life.” She stills in my arms like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. “The reason I turned into a jerk was because I was shocked by how much I wanted you there. You mentioned your dad passing, and the first thing that came to my mind was, ‘why don’t I know that about her already.’”

  “Drix.”

  “I know it was impossible, but in that split second, I realised I wanted to know things about you. Things everyone knows, things nobody knows…. It shocked me.” She sits up and the sheets fall off her back. Naked, wet eyelashes, and red cheeks, she’s raw, and on display. The woman in front of me is changing me, and for the first time, I welcome it.

  “I don’t know what to say when you tell me things like that.” Twisting her body, she throws her legs off the edge of the bed. She walks out of the room, giving me a view of heaven, only to come back covering it up.

  Even though I’m momentarily distracted by the fact her skin is no longer on display, getting to the bottom of why she stormed out is more important. “What is it?”

  “I wasn’t going to call you, you know?” She stands in the middle of the room, the distance between us bothering me. “Actually, I was even more surprised you called me.”

  “But that doesn’t explain why you’re no longer naked, and standing so far away from me.”

  “You know why I didn’t contact you, right?” she asks, completely bypassing what I just said. The shitty thing is I do. And instead of addressing the elephant in the room, I nod and keep silent, avoiding the conversation I know needs to be had. “It’s the same reason I’m so surprised to hear you say you’re into whatever this is too.”

  “Can you come back to bed please.” She takes a few hesitant steps toward me. “Naked.”

  The minute she’s within reach, I take her hand and pull her on top of me. My head lands on her range of pillows, and my hands hold on to her waist. “I want to see what this is with you. Can that please be enough for now.”

  With a heavy resigned breath, she rolls off me, landing on her back, beside me. “I’m not trying to bust your balls, Drix. I’m just trying to make sure I don’t get hurt. They’re two very different things.”

  Everything she’s saying makes sense, and every essence of my being knows she has every right to feel the way she does. But I’m always the one to think too hard and take too long. Right now, I don’t want to be that guy. I just want to feast in this feeling with her for as long as she’ll let me.

  I don’t care if it’s too soon, or I don’t really know her, or it might just be the really good sex. None of those rules or expectations matter, because with her I enjoy the moment, without worrying about the consequences. With her, my mind is so fucking silent, and that’s something I’ve spent too much time searching for.

  “Crazy.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t want either of us to get hurt.”

  Turning on he
r side, she leans on her elbow and rests her cheek on the inside of her hand. “That’s good enough for me.”

  I mirror her pose. “Can you come a little bit closer.”

  “What do you mean? I’m right next to you.”

  “But you could be on top of me.”

  “Oh,” she says, pretending to play along. “My bad.” She manoeuvres her leg over, straddling me. “This better?”

  Kicking the blankets to the side, I grip onto her waist and pull her farther down, her pussy hovering directly above my cock. “We’re getting there.”

  My fingers slide through her folds. Like the gift that keeps on giving, she’s wet and wanting. Bringing my thumb to her clit, I begin to rub in a slow, circular motion. She draws in a harsh breath at the contact, and my dick throbs from the power I have over her.

  Lowering herself completely, she rubs herself up and down my shaft. My movements become faster, as she drips all over my cock.

  “I need you inside me, Drix.” She wraps her hands around my hard, and slick cock, lifting her body up off me. “Please.”

  “I’m all yours.” She slides herself down my dick, and I piston my hips, wanting to feel myself deep-seated inside her. With her eyes on mine, and her lips parted, she looks down at me with nothing but want written all over her face. “Ride me, Crazy.”

  I splay my hands across her arse, gripping her cheeks through every delicious bounce. Hard and fast, I fuck her and she uses me, both of us racing to the finish line. Close to the edge, I get lost in the vision before me. With golden locks cascading around her shoulders, and dusty rose nipples begging to be sucked, she looks like the angel of seduction, here to bring me to my knees.