by Abby Brooks
“You are so beautiful,” I say as I roll my hips. My hands on either side of her head. My forehead nearly touching hers. “So kind. So smart. So funny. So talented.”
I tell her all the things I’ve been thinking for the last few weeks, accentuating each one with a thrust of my hips, pushing myself deeper and deeper inside her, watching her watch me.
“You are so much,” I say, finishing the thought in my head. You are so much to me.
Her lips part. “I am nothing,” she whispers, so much pain in her eyes.
I shake my head. Kiss her lips. Slide my dick in and out of her as her hands squeeze my ass.
“Oh no, Maya. You are everything.”
Her eyes roll closed. Her breath catches and her muscles clench around me. She comes and it’s beautiful, ecstasy softening her face.
I am undone. I come inside her in two long spurts, shuddering and never once looking away from her tear-stained face.
This is more than sex. This is more than two people seeking pleasure in each other’s body. This is something I have never felt before. Connection. A need that isn’t physical, but that’s locked somewhere in my heart and soul.
This is me looking at Maya, knowing that I want more of her. Her time. Her laughter. Her tears. Her joy and her pain. I want them all.
I want her.
I collapse beside her, pull her in close, wrap my arms around her, and we fall asleep.
Chapter Twelve
I wake up, confused. I don’t recognize the room or the bed. I don’t understand why there’s someone beside me or why I’m naked.
I turn my head and recognize the sharp contours of Hudson’s face. His strong nose, the gentle sweep of his eyelashes. The hard line of his jaw. I smile.
The night comes back to me. The pain of the loss of the boy. The fury of my need in the kitchen. The softness in Hudson’s eyes as he told me I was everything.
I want more of that. The connection we had. I’ve never felt so cared for, so safe, so secure as I did last night. I was in need and Hudson gave himself to me. And I gave myself to him in a way that I never intended.
I’m tempted to run my fingers over his chest, to trace the sweeping lines of his tattoos, but I don’t want to wake him. Besides, I’m raw and vulnerable and if he looked at me with even a fraction of the intensity he had in his eyes last night, I don’t know what might happen.
I might just fall over an edge and what was once fun and meaningless might become real and powerful. I don’t know if I’m ready for that. If I can handle that. It’s already bad enough that I came here last night.
Instead of going home and dealing with my grief myself. Instead of being strong and locking all the sadness away under the guise of professionalism. Instead of calling Chelsea and going to her, I came to him.
When I hurt, when I was in need, he was the first person I thought of.
The only person I thought of.
And he gave me what I needed. He fucked me until I collapsed and then, instead of driving into me until he came, he swooped me up and made love to me. He told me I was beautiful, his words touching a hidden spot in my heart while his body moved with mine, pushing me towards the most soul-touching orgasm I’ve ever had. Last night was body and soul combined and I’m not ready for that.
I can’t open myself up for him. Not when last night proved just how utterly weak I actually am.
The joy I felt upon seeing him just moments ago fades into fear. I stare at the ceiling, tears burning my eyes. I can’t do this.
He says I am everything and I can’t be that for him. I’ve been too many things for too many people and I’m so tired of not being anything for myself.
Careful not to wake him, I slide out from under the covers and stand. My heart begs me to turn and look at him, so peaceful in his sleep. The last time I’ll see him.
I don’t.
I can’t look at him because if I do, there’s a chance I’ll never leave. And I have to leave.
I creep forward on silent feet and freeze as he groans, stretching, his body hissing across the sheets. “You better not be sneaking out,” he says, his voice husky with sleep.
My chin drops to my chest and my eyes close and I can’t move. I can’t turn to look at him and I can’t leave. I’m trapped here, standing naked and raw in his bedroom.
“Maya.” My name is a prayer on his lips. “Come back to bed.”
I shake my head. Still silent. Go, says my fear. Go now. Leave before you can’t anymore.
And still, I stand frozen. “I can’t,” I manage, my voice scraping past the hole in my heart. And with that, I find my strength and walk out of his bedroom, never once looking back.
The rustle of his body against the sheets chases me down the hallway. “Damn it, Maya!”
I gather my clothes, my hands shaking. “I have to go.” I pull on my bra and panties, making eye contact with the floor.
Hudson steps in, invades my space, puts his finger to my chin and lifts my face to his. He kisses me and I’m undone. My resolve dissipates. I can’t leave. I don’t know if I ever could.
“Come back to bed,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to mine. His hands cupping my face. “Don’t leave me.”
“Don’t ask me to stay.”
He slides his hands up into my hair and waits for me to look him in the eye. “I’m not asking. I’m telling.”
I pull out of his grasp. “Who gave you the right to tell me what to do?” I step into my pants and search for my shirt.
Hudson grabs my wrist, pulling me back into him. “You did.” He smiles down at me, sadness twisting his brows. “Last night.”
I suck in my lips. “I’m so tired of doing things for other people.”
Hudson lets me go. Steps back and holds out his hands. “Then stay because you want to. Stay because this is good. Stay for you, Maya.”
I look at him. This awful silence descends on the apartment. Every ounce of my being wants me to stay. Wants me to run into his arms and give myself to him once and for all.
I take a breath.
“I can’t.”
His face goes hard and he watches me find my shirt and pull it on, grab my purse, and leave. I’m down the hall, stabbing the button for the elevator when the tears come. I lean on the wall for support, my body sagging and my heart breaking.
I want to turn around and I know I can’t. If I go back to him, I’ll give myself to him and then he’s just one more person who means more to me than I do to myself. He’s just one more person who will need things from me. Take things from me. Expect me to do things for him without stopping to ask what I want or need.
Leaving is the right answer. Leaving is the only way I’ll be whole. Leaving is the only way I’ll be true to myself.
But if that’s the case, why does it hurt so much? Why do I want to spin on my heel and run back into his arms? Why does it feel like I’m shattering into a million pieces?
Behind me, his door swings open. I whirl as Hudson strides towards me, a pair of athletic pants hanging from his hips.
“Don’t,” I say as he closes the distance between us.
“Maya.” His voice is hard and thick, his eyes brimming with emotion. “Don’t do this.”
“I have to.” I break eye contact. I can’t see him like this.
“Look at me.”
I shake my head.
“Look at me,” he pleads, his voice softening. And damn it, I do.
“This isn’t what I signed up for.” The elevator door slides open and I step inside. “This isn’t meaningless anymore.”
“You’re right. It’s not.” Hudson swallows hard and sets his jaw. “Now get out of the damn elevator and come talk to me.” He smiles, his eyes pleading. “Please.”
He extends a hand and I take it, letting him lead me back into his apartment. I perch on the armrest of his couch, clutching my purse to my chest, so totally confused that I don’t know what to say or think or do.
Hudson crouches at my fe
et. His hands on my knees. His eyes on mine. “Why would you run from this?”
“Because I don’t want to lose myself.”
“Who said you would?”
“That’s just what I do. I give control of my life to people with bigger personalities. People who love me and want what they think is best for me, but don’t take into consideration what is actually good for me. I don’t want to do that anymore.”
“Then don’t do it anymore.” Hudson stands and pulls me to my feet.
“But it’s just what I do. It happens before I know it. I’ll lose myself to you.”
“I won’t let that happen.”
“You already tried to make it happen. Just now, when you told me to stay.” I hate this. I hate every moment of it. It’s all I can do to stay where I am. I just want to run away.
“But, staying is the right answer.” Hudson looks confused.
“For you. It’s right for you.”
“No, Maya. It’s right for us.” He paces into the kitchen.
“That’s just it. You decided what was right for me and then told me what was right for me without even bothering to ask what I thought was right for me.”
He closes the distance between us again. Takes my hands in his. “Maya? What’s right for you? What do you want?”
I stare up at him, a battle waging inside me. I want him. I want to stay here and laugh with him. I want to talk with him, be consumed by him. I want to fuck him each night and wake up beside him each morning only to fuck him again. I want to share my heart with him and I want to grow closer to him. That’s what I want.
But who the fuck knows if that’s what’s right.
And that’s where I get stuck.
Hudson brushes a strand of hair off my forehead. “Talk to me. Please.”
“I want you, Hudson. And that scares the hell out of me.”
He smiles, his dimples lighting up his face. “I want you, too. All of you. All the time. You stopped being meaningless to me weeks ago.”
His words hit me hard. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I didn’t want to push you towards anything you weren’t ready for.” He folds his arms across his chest. “You came into this looking for something simple and fun. I didn’t want to become another obligation. I told myself I’d be simple and fun until you wanted more.”
“What if I never wanted more?”
“Then I wouldn’t have asked.”
I crinkle my brow. Take a deep breath. “You would have sacrificed what you wanted for what you thought I needed?” The words catch in my throat. It’s taking everything not to throw myself into his arms. Because when it all comes down to it, he’s what I want. And the more I realize that he wanted me but wasn’t willing to take me until I was ready, well, it makes me realize just how good he could be for me.
“Yes.” He shrugs. “Or I would have tried. Because here you are, trying to leave, telling me you’re not ready. And I’m too selfish to let you go.”
I suck in my lips and step towards him. “And what if I told you I’m glad you didn’t let me leave? What if I told you that I want more?”
“Then I’d pull you back to bed and keep you with me until you begged to leave.”
“Would there be sex?” I smile up at him.
“You can bet your sexy ass there’d be so much sex, you wouldn’t walk straight for a month.”
My heart flip-lops and my stomach flutters. Is this what it feels like to have butterflies in my stomach? Is this what it means to fall in love? Why would anyone ever want to feel this way? It’s terrible. My foundation is shaking. Nothing feels stable or real. Everything is different and every time I look at Hudson, my whole body sighs and time stops and everything is better and worse all at the same time.
“Hudson?” My heart stops. My blood roars in my ears. My breath catches. “Don’t let me leave.”
He sweeps me up into his arms. Kisses me, something tender and sweet and so addicting I know I’m done for, and then he carries me back to his room and stretches me out on his bed. Undresses me, bares me to him, only to cover my body with his own.
Chapter Thirteen
Maya. My whole life is Maya. If I’m not waking up to her perfect tits and her perfect smile, then I’m looking forward to the moment she shows up at my door. I teach her about football and she avoids talking about work and all in all things are really good.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks as she reaches up into a cabinet for the garlic salt.
“Nothing.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it. You only smile like that when you’re thinking about something.”
I cross my arms over my chest and lean back against the counter. “Fine. I was thinking about making you suck my dick before you finish dinner.”
“We finish dinner. I have no idea what I’m doing, remember?”
“Neither do I, doll face. This was your grand idea.” Nevertheless, I push off the counter and lean over the spaghetti sauce, looking into the pot and stirring like that’s going to make a difference.
“Anyway,” says Maya, sprinkling garlic salt into the sauce as I stir. “That was a bullshit answer, too. You have a totally different smile when you’re thinking about sex.”
“I hate to break it to you, doll face, but when I’m with you I’m always thinking about sex.”
There’s no way I’m going to tell her that I’m thinking about how good we are together. She’s skittish about that kind of stuff. Besides, I wasn’t lying. When I’m with her, I really am always thinking about sex.
She grins up at me. “Quit lying. You and I both know you’re always thinking about football.”
“Well, I do think about football a lot.” I look up at the ceiling and stroke my chin. “But I think if you took the time to graph it out, sex with you would win out. By a margin.”
Maya shakes her head and points at me with the spoon from the sauce. “Real nice, Knox. You sure know how to make a girl feel special.”
“If I don’t make you feel special every day of your life, then I’m doing it wrong.”
I grab her and I kiss her. I love that she tastes so sweet and looks so innocent while I know that deep down, she’s as dirty as I want her to be. Her lips part, inviting me in and her hips press into mine. Without looking, she puts the spoon down on the stove and begins fiddling with my pants, eager to deliver the blowjob she thinks I want.
I don’t stop her. I’m more than willing to come in her mouth before dinner.
Turns out I didn’t come in her mouth after all. I wanted her too much and couldn’t stop myself from fucking her against the counter—one of my new favorite ways to make her scream my name. It also turns out that we’re not having homemade spaghetti sauce tonight because sex with Maya always becomes an event. We took our time, enjoying each other, finding new ways to make the other moan, and lo and behold, the sauce burned itself to the bottom of the pan.
So, now we’re eating pizza and drinking wine. “I think this turned out pretty well,” I say before cramming the last bite of pizza in my mouth. “What a fantastic meal.”
“Sure.” Maya rolls her eyes. “Because I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“That’s not true at all. The meal was fantastic because of the company.”
She smiles at me and takes a long drink of her wine before shrugging. “The company is okay, I guess. The sex was fantastic but that was all me.”
“That was us, doll face.”
We sit quietly and I stare into the face of the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I can't believe how lucky I am to have her with me. I can't believe we've come so far in such a short time. How long ago was it that we ran into each other at Aura? Three months? She’s such an intricate part of my life now that I can’t imagine my days without her.
“So, how's work going?” I ask when she catches me watching her. “We haven't really talked about it since that night.” I don’t need to go into any more detail. She knows
exactly what night I’m talking about.
Maya swallows and looks down at her hands. Swirls the tip of her finger around the edge of her wine glass and then takes a long drink, never quite meeting my eyes.
“Fine,” she says.
I make a face and grab my wine glass. “Don't give me that canned answer,” I say after a drink. “I don't believe it. Not for one minute.”
She studies me, silent for a long time. And then she puts her wine glass down on the table and runs both hands up into her hair. “It's awful. My confidence is shaken. Each kid that comes into the hospital just makes me so sad I can barely stand to be there. I thought I'd be making a difference.” She swallows and shakes her head, staring at the pizza box.
“You are.”
“I mean, maybe. But if I am, it's at the expense of myself.” She meets my gaze and I hate seeing the pain tightening her features.
I watch her. Her uneasy eyes roam the topography of my table. I've known she wasn't happy at her job since before I really even got to know her. Since that night at the coffee shop when she told me what she did for a living. When she told me that she did it for her parents and not for herself.
I lean in and take her hands in mine. I run my fingertip across her knuckles, amazed at her skin, so soft like rose petals. “What would you be if you had the choice? What would you do if you weren't trying to live up to your parents’ expectations?”
She draws her eyebrows together and bites her bottom lip, thinking before answering. “I don't really know. I guess I've never given it much thought.”
“Well, think about it. You've mentioned wanting to make a difference so many times that even someone as thick as I am knows how important it is to you. What else are you passionate about? What excites you?”
Maya smiles wickedly. “You.”
“Obviously. That’s a no-brainer.” I grin and wink at her because I know it drives her crazy. “What else gets you all hot and bothered?”
“I guess that’s the thing about living my whole life for other people. I don't know.”
“It’s not too late to figure out what you want. Where do your dreams start, and your parents’ dreams end?”