Forever With You (Silver State Series) (39 page)

And then, suddenly, his lips are on mine.  He hauls me up against him as if I can’t possibly get close enough and covers my mouth with passionate kisses.  I give myself over to carnal instinct as I slide my hands beneath his shirt and forcefully tug the fabric up; Kyle breaks the contact between our lips only long enough to rip it the rest of the way off.

A moment later, with tears stinging the backs of my eyes, I take a step backward and cross my wrists at my hips, clutching at the hem of my own t-shirt.  I begin to lift it, but Kyle latches his fingers around my forearms to arrest my movement.  His gaze drills into me with white-hot intensity, and for half a second I can almost imagine him walking away and leaving me here, but then he loosens his grip and helps me to jerk my shirt over my head.  He prods me backward until the backs of my legs bump into the mattress behind me, and I topple backwards onto the comforter.

Kyle crawls over the top of me, covering my body with his, but he remains tensed a few inches above as if he’s afraid to actually touch me.  We’re both breathing so hard, and as I watch him I can feel a hot tear leaking out from the corner of my eye and rolling down the side of my face.  I can’t help but simultaneously love and hate what we do to each other.

I begin to move, lifting my arms to reach up and touch Kyle’s face, but he grabs both my wrists in one of his hands and lowers them to the mattress above my head in a way that’s firm but gentle.  Even though I can tell he’s angry, his actions don’t frighten me the way Aiden’s had.  Even through my fury and hurt, I still innately
trust
him.

“Tell me why you don’t want to be with me,” he rasps, his voice thick with demand and, surprisingly, emotion.

I squirm beneath him, concurrently itching to both slap him and kiss him.  A harsh sob escapes me, but I hold the tears at bay.  “Because I’m not that kind of girl,” I snap. 

From the look on Kyle’s face you’d think I just sucker punched right him in the gut.  His disconsolate expression morphs into a hardened mask.  “And what kind of girl is that?” he snarls.

“What do you
think
?  The kind who can act fine with you fooling around with whomever you want, any time you want.  The kind who’s okay with never just being
enough
for you.”

His eyes darken.  “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“Don’t play games with me, Kyle.  I may not know
everything
that’s happened with you and Macary, but I know enough.  You
kissed
her right before you swore to me there was nothing going on between you!”

Suddenly he lets go of my wrists and holds himself in pushup stance with his hands pressing into the mattress on either side of my face.  “Yeah, I fucking kissed her,” he says, injecting venom into each word.  “Because I was trying like
hell
to keep from thinking about
you
.” 

I tense beneath him, my body humming with the weight of what he’s just admitted.  “Why were you thinking about me?” I ask, my tone laced with suspicion.

He laughs harshly.  “Because you drive me up the fucking wall, and I can’t ever
stop
thinking about you, that’s why.  You wanna talk about playing
games
?  Let’s talk about the games
you’ve
been playing,
Tawny
.”  The angry way he spits out my name grates on my ears.

What is he talking about? 
What games have
I
been playing?

Clearly this conversation isn’t getting us anywhere.  Instead of asking any questions, I plant my feet up on the mattress and buck my hips beneath him, grinding my pelvis into his.  I reach behind my back to unclasp my bra and let it slip down off my shoulders before encircling his neck with my arms – then I crash my lips against his mouth.  At first he reciprocates, spreading his fingers across my bare back and holding me against him, but then his lips still, and it feels like I’m kissing a stone statue.

“Do you want me, Kyle?” I ask, not bothering to conceal my desperation.

“Of course I
want
you,” he snarls before lowering his voice to an angry whisper.  “I wanna fuck you so bad.”  He drops his forehead to lean against my shoulder and lets out a ragged, defeated sigh.  “I just can’t.”

“
Why not
?” I whimper, on the verge of tears.  I struggle against the feeling of being smothered as I absorb his despair and feel it sinking into my bones, becoming a part of me.  I’ve never felt so frantic to have him touch me and to feel him inside of me – in this moment, it’s the only thing that seems
right
.

Suddenly Kyle shoves off of me and scoots away to the edge of the bed.  “Why is it my cock is good enough for you, but
I’m
not?” he says, his voice choked with emotion.  “You’ll let me fuck you now, but then you’ll go back to ignoring my fucking calls tomorrow.”

I scramble to the edge of the mattress to fold him in my arms, but he doesn’t yield or respond in any way as I attempt to hold him.  “That’s not true!” I cry.  “Kyle,
please
!”  Tears bud in the corners of my eyes, blurring my vision before spilling down my cheeks.

Kyle – Saturday, 7:45 PM

A
jolt of electricity rocks through me listening to her beg.  I suck a breath in through my gritted teeth.  I’m so
mad
– and so
fucking
turned on.  God, it isn’t fair –
why
does it have to be this way? 
Why do I have to want her so goddamn much?

When a single fat teardrop squeezes out and drops onto my pant leg, I grind the heels of my hands into my eyes in an effort to physically quell any additional tears.  I think I’ve only cried twice in my entire life, and I’m not about to make it a third.

As I sit there with Tawny curled around me, feeling her warm skin pressed against mine, I feel my body begin to relax.  Then she pulls away from me and the cold seeps in, prickling my skin.  I resist the urge to look back; honestly I expected her to leave me anyway.  Then I hear a zipper and the rustling of cloth, and a moment later I can feel her standing in front of me, her hand forming to the side of my face.  I open my eyes, but I don’t dare look up.  All I can see as I cast my gaze downward is her bare feet and legs.  Slowly I bring my arms up and find her naked hips and her waist.  I wrap my arms around her, breathing her in as I pull her up against me and lay the side of my face against her stomach. 

For months I’ve hated myself because I thought Tawny made me feel
weak
.  She was like an addiction, and even as I longed for her I couldn’t help but feel I was somehow fundamentally flawed for allowing myself to
need
someone that much. 

As I sit here now, holding her, something in my psyche begins to shift.  Suddenly I don’t feel weak anymore – instead, I feel stronger.  Knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt the extent of the raw strength that lives inside the girl in my arms, I can’t help but feel propped up by it.  When I finally lift my face to look up at her and see the pure emotion radiating from her, I think I’ve
never
seen so much passion coming from one person – and for now, for this briefest of moments, that passion is directed at me.

I’ve dwelled on my addiction nearly every day since the day Tawny walked away from me for the last time, but it wasn’t till now I fully realized how good we could be
together
. 
Christ, what have I done?
I think. 
How much time have I wasted by not
fighting
for her?

I cling to her as I glide my hands up to clutch at her face and pull her down on top of me.  I’ll give in to this one final weakness, knowing and understanding that if this is the last time, it’ll hurt like hell tomorrow.  Knowing that for once, it’s a risk I’m willing to take.

Tawny – Saturday, 8:00 PM

T
he anguished fervor of Kyle’s kisses causes my heart to soar and break in unison.  He nuzzles into me, the bridge of his nose nudging against the tender skin of my neck and jaw, holding my body close like it’s our last night on earth.  The fact he’s no longer fighting me is both wonderful and disorienting.

Pushing through my bewilderment at his sudden shift in behavior, I bend one leg to plant my knee on the mattress and begin to straddle him.  Kyle wraps his hands around the backs of my thighs and pulls me against his chest.  I feel him pause and drop one of his hands; when I look down in question he brings his hand back up from his crotch to settle at my waist.  “Sorry,” he whispers.  “Just needed to adjust.”

His statement serves as a subtle reminder that only one of us is naked.  I ease back off of him and crouch down to unfasten his pants.  He lifts his butt, and a throaty moan rumbles up from his chest as I shuck off his pants and underwear in a single motion.  Clearly he’s ready for me – his erection arcs upward as its tip is freed from the confines of his boxers.  For a moment I can only stare down at his statuesque perfection and the faint line circling his waist that separates the light tan of his pelvic region from the deep bronze of his cut stomach.

He sits up, his eyes lit with wild abandon.  “Why’d you stop?” he asks cautiously.  I wonder if he’s afraid I’ll change my mind.

I shake my head, choosing not to answer as I lower myself back on top of him.  As his hands glide over the contours of my hips and breasts, his words replay in my mind –
Why don’t you want to be with me?  I can’t ever stop thinking about you
…  His questions as well as his declarations had hinted at an underlying vulnerability I’d rarely been privy to until now.  There have been times over the past several months, namely when talking to Rhiannon or Harumi, when I’ve suspected I may not have all the facts when it comes to Kyle Freeman – but nothing underscores the legitimacy of that suspicion like hearing these words straight from the man himself.

The more I think about it, the more I begin to panic and the more urgently I feel the need to cling to him.  It’s like I’m trapped in a small, windowless room, and the four walls are closing in on me, threatening to swallow me up until there’s nothing left.  For the first time in months I dare to think,
What if it’s all my fault?  And what if I’ve missed my chance to make it right?
  Maybe that’s why he’s holding onto me as if it’s his last chance to do so –
maybe
it’s because he’s already decided it
will
be his last chance.

Another sob wrestles free of my throat as I fall forward and our bodies collide.  Kyle slides his tongue along the ridge of my shoulder and up my neck, then rains kisses over my breastbone and nips at the hollow at the base of my throat.  We move in concert over and against one other, and while I’m acutely aware of his proximity to the tingling warmth between my legs, we seem to have tacitly agreed to refrain from rushing it.

As I bask in the thrill of his touch, slowly I begin to come apart.  Silent tears stream down my cheeks as I grip at his arms and the back of his neck and drag my fingernails up the smooth skin of his back while brushing my lips over his shoulders and the outside of his ear.  When Kyle finally slips inside of me, I can tell from his sharp intake of breath it wasn’t on purpose.  I’m rendered momentarily breathless as a sensation that’s equal parts exultation and physical discomfort filters through me.

Kyle pulls out, but not all the way.  He pauses before thrusting gently back into me; it’s with this second push he looks down at my face, and his expression is transformed with grief and worry.  “Why are you crying?” he asks as he stills inside me.  “Am I hurting you?”  Another crop of tears brims in my eyes and causes haloes to form around every pinpoint of light as he gazes down at me tenderly. 

“No,” I reply, my voice scarcely more than a hoarse whisper.  “Please don’t stop.”

He moves into me again but drops his head to kiss my face, expunging the tears with each gentle caress of his lips.  A moment later Kyle slows to a stop and drops a whisper into my ear:  “I need to see you.”

He deftly switches our positions before I can even fully comprehend the implications of his statement.  I wish I could have back a fraction of the moxie I was graced with earlier in our relationship – suddenly it seems difficult to believe I could ever have been so comfortable being on display the way I am now.  Fleetingly lost in my bashful insecurity, I hug my arms over my chest as I raise and lower myself over Kyle’s lap.

Suddenly he bolts up into a sitting position and presses his chest against mine while circling my forearms with his long fingers.  As he gently tugs, I slowly begin to release my hold.  “Don’t cover up,” he murmurs.  “You’re so beautiful.”  He places a soft kiss on the inside of my wrist as I finally let go, then rolls his spine back down against the mattress.

His words are a salve that infuses me with the courage and confidence I need to go on.  I drop my hands and lay them against his heaving bare chest, then roll my hips, feeling my way forward as I rock into him.  I’m spurred on by Kyle’s expression, which is taut with intensity as his gaze alternates between my face and our point of connection.  When he arches off the mattress and throws his head back, I can tell he’s rapidly approaching his orgasm; seeing it written there in his features and the posturing of his sculpted body causes me to flail along beside him until we both break.

Kyle – Saturday, 8:30 PM

I
continue to lie flat on my back as Tawny rolls off me, separating her body from mine.  She lies apart from me – I can feel her there, but I can’t see whether she looks happy or sad.  I’m too afraid to look, so I stare up at the ceiling instead, working my jaw as I mull over what to say, how to begin.  There’s so
much
to be said.

I feel her shift beside me, and I know my time is up.  I can’t just keep lying here without looking at her, or she’ll think I don’t care, even though nothing could be further from the truth.  The trouble is, I care
too much
.  I feel like I’m on the brink of losing everything – or maybe I already have.