Remembering Phoenix (14 page)

“Why did you come back to Texas? Why not stay in California?” I ask. My curiosity is getting the best of me. I want to know everything about him there is to know.

“Because,” he says, “I wanted my brother back. We’d spent so long never talking, and when we finally got back to a good place, I missed him. I wanted back here. And my dad’s partner offered to sell his half of their construction company to me. It was an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“Stetson. Why did you guys ever stop speaking?”

He takes a deep breath. I can feel the tension in his body build. “After my parents’ died, he went off the deep end. He got off in some things he shouldn’t have. He just couldn’t cope, I guess. I called the cops on him, he had some things on him, so he was arrested. He told me to go to hell, and I was no family of his. Family didn’t rat.”

I can hear the sadness in his tone, the pain behind his words.

“I had already moved to California before they died, but I came home. I could tell Stet wasn’t in a good place, so I stayed for about a month. Until…”

“You got him arrested,” I finish.

“Yeah,” he says flatly. We both take a moment to let the words sink in before he finally finishes. “I’m just glad he finally came around. I have your sister to thank… and, I guess, you.”

“Me?” He catches me off guard.

“Stetson called me one day out of the blue. I was pulling into my condo from work when my phone went off. I hadn’t even looked at the caller ID when I answered it.” He pauses. I’m still confused how I had anything to do with them talking again. Slayter knew nothing about me until we met. “He said Lizzie’s sister had almost died, and he saw how it gutted Lizzie to see you hurting so badly. He said he was done holding a grudge, when I was all he had left in this world besides his girl.”

My heart crashes. My breathing falters. “I’m sorry,” he says. His face washes with regret. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No. You didn’t,” I assure him. It does make my heart ache further, but it’s not his fault. “I mean, I never thought anything good would come from my tragedy. But it did. It gave you back your brother.”

He grabs my chin with his thumb and forefinger. His gaze pierces me. “You’re incredible. Do you know that?” He reaches down, gently brushing his lips against mine. Warmth surrounds me, despite the cool air.

We spend the next few hours swinging, talking, and learning about one another. Our hopes. Dreams. Fears. Wants. He tells me about his parents. How they lived a life full of love and affection for all mankind. He talks to me about their home and how his world came crashing down when they passed away, but he remained strong because of Stetson. He was the only person Stetson had to lean on until he met Lizzie. Then she became that person for him. His healer. When he speaks of his parents, there is nothing but adoration in his tone. I can, without a doubt, say his parents had everything to do with him becoming the incredible man he is today. Surprisingly, he opens up about Claire and Jodi. He tells me exactly what had happened, leaving him at the bar that first night we met. I instantly feel bad that I ever allowed my selfishness to degrade someone else’s heartache.

He doesn’t push me to talk about things I don’t want to divulge. He allows me to share only the things I feel comfortable sharing without pushing for me to say more. Maybe he knows I can’t give him more because I’m still trying to work out the mess in my head.

We talk so long, and we both lose track of time. By the time we get ready to go, it’s 1am. I can tell Slayter is beyond tired. So am I. He offers for us to sleep here, and lets me take his old bedroom to sleep in.

So, here I am, surrounded by all things Slayter Beck without actually being around him at all.

The hum of the ceiling fan fills the room as I watch the shadow of the trees dance around the navy walls. Adorned with high school pennants and football snapshots, his room is a time capsule from his high school days. I drink it all in, trying to get a glimpse of younger Slayter—slim, tall, and just as handsome. He was the star quarterback.

I curl up in his bed, pulling his plaid comforter up to my chin and close my eyes.

A few minutes later, I hear a creak coming from the doorway. I snap my eyes open and see a shadowed figure perfectly filling the doorway. “Hi,” I say in a hushed whisper.

I click the lamp on. A pair of gray sweat pants hang loosely from his hips.

“I figured you’d be asleep,” he says, roughing his hands through his hair.

I shake my head, unable to form the words because I am too mesmerized by what is in front of me.

“Yeah.” He smirks. “Me too.”

“What?” My eyes travel up, gazing over his perfect, rigid abs before they land on those eyes. There’s something about the way he stares at me with one eyebrow cocked up and a smirk hiked at the corner of his mouth. It makes every nerve ending in my body work in overdrive.

He shakes his head, his eyes never leaving mine. “Nothing,” he rasps out.

“Do want your bed? I can sleep on the couch.” I attempt to distract myself. I throw the covers back to get up, planning to give him his room back.

“No way. I’m not letting you sleep on that couch. It’s uncomfortable. And the extra bedroom hasn’t been a bedroom in years, taken over by Mom’s craft stuff.”

“I can sleep in Stetson’s old room,” I offer.

“Hell no.” He shakes his head, laughing lightly. He rubs his hand over his eyes, tiredness steadily taking over his features. “I refuse to let you sleep in that bed. There’s no telling what all Stet did in there when he was a teenager, and during college when he brought girls home. Fuck no.”

My mind drifts to Slayter and what he’s done in this bed. With other women. A wave of jealousy falls over me. I brush my insane thoughts off. “Right.” I try to come up with a solution, but I can only think of one where neither one of us will have to sleep on the couch. “Well, there’s plenty of room for both of us.”

As soon as the words fall from my mouth, I regret it. Of course he wouldn’t want to share a bed with me.

“Yeah?” he asks.

I’m shocked by his response. I was sure he would say no without a second to think about it. My stomach flutters, and I try to push the butterflies away. “That is, if you want. It would be nice to not feel so lonely in a big house I’m not familiar with.”

He slowly walks over, climbing in on the other side of the bed. I feel the bed dip as he lays down. Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I lay back down on the very edge of the bed. There isn’t an inch of space between where the mattress ends and where my body begins. My heart speeds at the realization that he’s in the same bed as I am.

“You can sleep
under
the covers, too, Charlie. I won’t bite.” His voice is low, a slight chuckle escaping him once he speaks.

“No. I didn’t think that at all.” I nervously fiddle with the sheets. “I was just giving you your personal space.”

“Charlie.” The deep timbre of his voice causes my spine to prickle. I turn around to face him, needing to see his face, to see those eyes that always pierce me. “I want you in my personal space. I came up here just to make sure you were real. To make sure I wasn’t imagining this,” he admits. My eyes widen as his stare becomes heated.

“Oh,” I breathe out, not having the capability to say anything else.

“Why couldn’t you sleep, Charlie?”

My heart speeds into overdrive as I mull over what to say. I almost lie, but I think better of it. “Because you were consuming me, and I still don’t understand this. Us.”

“Come here.” He pats the space between us. I scoot closer to him until our bodies brush against each other. He quickly pulls me into him, slipping one arm underneath my back. My heart pounds against my chest; my breathing heavies. “I don’t understand this either. But I know I feel it. That pull. That tug that only gets stronger the further away I am from you.” He kisses me on the forehead, rubbing his hand up and down the side of my stomach. His fingers graze my exposed skin, causing a moan to escape my mouth.

I’ve fought it, told myself I couldn’t get sucked into his trance, but it was all for naught. He’s causing a whirlpool of feelings to build up inside of me. There is an ache in my chest that is nothing like the ache I have felt every day since I woke up from my coma. “We don’t have to figure it out tonight, Charlie,” he whispers. “Just let me show you that you don’t always have to drown in everything life has thrown at you. It’s okay to feel. Because I damn sure know I do.”

“Slayter,” I murmur.

His eyes study my face, his stare causing a shiver to run down my entire body. “Yeah?”

“Why do you want a girl like me?”

He brings his hand to my face, grazing my bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “Because, a girl like you needs to see that she’s so much more than what she believes. You see yourself as nothing. You think you’re worth nothing after what’s happened to you. I can see you, Charlie. The guilt, it eats you alive. But I want to be the person that makes you see you’re not nothing—you’re everything.”

A tear escapes my eyes, my heart becomes so consumed with everything he just said. We stare into each other’s eyes, no barrier standing between us. Being in the arms of the only person who’s accepted the pieces of me for what they are causes my restraint I’ve had for two years to snap. The sleepiness evades me as a greater need arises. A need to feel nothing, yet everything, at the same time. A need to lose myself, free myself with him.

With one final swipe of Slayter’s thumb across my lip, our lips crash together and I lose every ounce of control I had just moments ago. The kiss goes from sweet and chaste to passionate and needy as his tongue parts my lips, tangling with mine in a fit of passion. His kiss has me floating, allowing me to forget every ounce of demons I live with every single day.

He grabbles with my shirt, pulling it over my head, as my hands familiarize themselves with the ridges of his bare abdomen. My nails scrape lightly over his skin, causing a deep groan to seep from his throat.

“Charlie,” he breathes against my lips. Our breathing—heavy with desire—mirrors each other.

“Please,” I beg, my hands never stopping their discovery of his body. “Make me forget that I’m dying to remember.”

His eyes darken with desire, and in a single moment I’m flipped onto my back. All I hear is the thrumming of my heart. All I see is the shadowed gaze of the only person who’s ever made me feel alive.

Slayter stands up, sliding my leggings down my thighs, and discards them to the floor. His chest rises and falls as he roughs his fingers through his hair, his hungry gaze never leaving mine. “If we start this, Charlie, I won’t be able to stop.”

I nod my head. “Okay.”
Please don’t stop,
I plead with my eyes.

“No,” he says, the timbre of his voice firm. “I don’t think you understand. I have wanted you, your body, for a while. That day you ran into me, fuck. You fell, but I fell for you so hard. We start this and I won’t be able to quit you.”

The severity of his words slam into me. Knowing it’s not just me who is spinning, dizzy from this pull we seem to have on one another, is intoxicating.

“I don’t want you to,” I rasp out. “I don’t care if you don’t stop.” I’m not sure if my need for him is simply so strong in this moment, or if it’s so strong because I’m finally letting myself surrender to the fact that I feel something for him. Everything within me is screaming it’s the latter of those choices.

He climbs onto the bed, his arms placed on either side of my body. He’s pinning me in, but this doesn’t feel a thing like captivity.

Lifting his hand, he gently brushes it across my face. I shiver from his touch. “This face, it’s fucking flawless. Every flaw you see is perfect to me.” His hand travels down my neck, over my collar bone, before reaching, unclasping my bra. He slips it off, dropping it to the floor. His hand continues its quest over my body, his touch causing goosebumps to pebble my skin. He grazes my sensitive nipples. “These,” he dips his head, nipping and sucking one while working my other breast with his hand. My body hums with intense need, feeling more alive than it’s ever felt before. “Perfection.”

A moan escapes my lips as he touches my body like no one ever has. Every touch is calculated and thought out. It’s as if he’s studied me, my body, and knows exactly the right spots to touch to send my desire through the roof. “That sound. It drives me mad,” he says right before he hooks his thumbs in my thong, yanking them from my body.

I watch him as his eyes travel over every curve of my bare skin. There’s no barrier between us—nothing I can hide from him as I allow him to see
me
. Every broken, guilt-stricken, piece of me. He’s not seeing me under false pretenses that I’m this normal woman, not marred by the things of my past. He’s here. And he wants
me.
The real me.

I have never felt more
okay
than I do in this very moment.

His finger dips inside of me.

Then another.

He pumps in and out, flicking his fingers in the most perfect way causing me to moan out in pure ecstasy. My eyes close as I writhe against his hand as my body ignites with the most intense pleasure. “Open your eyes, Charlie,” Slayter demands.

I do as he says.

His eyes burrow into me, hooded with desire as his thumb works feverishly against my clit.

I keep my eyes locked on his, the intensity of our gaze causes a tsunami of feelings to swirl inside of me.

I become lost in this feeling of floating. It’s a high I’ve never been on, a stark contrast to the constant state of sinking I’m in.

Slayter bends down, pressing his warm lips against mine. His tongue lightly licks my bottom lip, and before I know it, volts of pleasure shoot throughout my body as an orgasm breaks free.

With one final kiss, he removes his fingers, and gets off the bed. I’m still on a high from his touch, still relishing in the warmth of his kisses, when I hear him grumble, “Shit. I don’t have a rubber.”

I push up on my elbows. “I’m on birth control.”

He takes my assurance as acceptance to continue—thank God—and stands up, pushing his sweats and boxers to the floor. His
very large
erection springs free. “Now is your last chance to back out,” he says. His voice is soft, in no way harsh.