Bared Souls - Ellie Wade Page 0,54
the top of her head.
She sits up to look at me. “I love you. Thank you for the best day.”
“I’m glad you liked it.”
“I loved it, truly loved it.” She holds a hand to her chest, her bold brown eyes filling with tears. “It was one of the best days of my life.”
I swipe a lock of hair away from her face. “The way I love you makes me think I can be different.”
“What do you mean, different? You’re perfect just the way you are. I love you for you.”
I hold her face in my hands and bring her lips to mine. Fact is, Alma doesn’t know me. Pretending to be someone I’m not is exhausting, but if it means I get to keep Alma, I’ll do it forever.
She reaches between us and undoes the button to my jeans. I quirk up a brow.
“I guess we could make the day a little better,” she teases.
“There’s always room for improvement.” I snag a condom from my jeans pocket before kicking them off.
Alma yanks off her leggings and tosses them on the floor. She straddles me, my fingers dig into her hips, and when she slides her heat over me, a hiss escapes my lips. As I enter her, she circles her hips again and again, tormenting me.
“Baby …” I take her nipple into my mouth and suck hard.
She fists my hair and starts to ride me.
“I love you,” she groans into the lust-filled space.
“I fucking love you,” I tell her as she picks up speed.
I will love you forever.
TWENTY-FIVE
Alma
The waves of restless energy radiating from Leo are so palpable that the tiny hairs on my own arms buzz with nerves. He white-knuckles the steering wheel. The melancholy music drifts from the car speakers, a creepy soundtrack to this solemn ride.
Leo’s childhood is still very much a mystery. He keeps the lock good and tight on those memories, never sharing them with me. And I’ve never felt that I should request that he does. Maybe it’s not my place to ask. The regular night terrors and screams that steal his sleep tell me enough.
I’ve shared everything with Leo. He knows all about my past—the good and the ugly. I’m not embarrassed of where I come from. Had I been able to choose, I might’ve chosen different parents, but I can’t regret them. Their choices and their actions, or lack thereof, made me who I am. I fought damn hard to get here, and I’m proud. I’m living proof that one can rise above their circumstances to be better.
Yet I can’t pretend to know what it’s like to walk in Leo’s shoes. Trauma isn’t universal, and no one will experience it or navigate through it the same way.
Leo is taking us to his parents’ mansion, a thirty-minute drive from school. He says that Christmas is the one day a year he’s obligated to spend with his family, but if it makes him this unhappy, then why? Why go through this? We should be at home, starting a Christmas Day tradition of our own. He offered me an out, but I want to be with him, today especially.
“We don’t have to go.” I reach my hand out and rest it atop Leo’s thigh.
Christmas morning has never been a cause for celebration in my life, as my parents deemed it a commercial holiday, as useless as the rest of them. A fat, jolly man in a red suit, a bunny with a basket, love notes, or even green shamrocks weren’t a thing in my house. Sure, each holiday came with a special tradition that existed solely between Amos and me, but all the rest was just noise.
Now that I’m out on my own, I want to start new holiday traditions. Leo has been so wonderful these past couple of weeks, making sure that I get to experience everything that this holiday has to offer. It’s been truly magical for the first time in my life. I finally understand the commotion around Christmas, and now that I’m an adult, I will never not go all out for it again.
I think back over the past two weeks—the decorations, the movies, the lights, making and frosting Christmas cookies, all of it—and there’s no way I could be disappointed in the slightest. However, I’d be lying if I said I hoped for more today.
“Can I ask you a few questions and not have you get mad at me?” My request is idiotic, but so is Leo’s palpable anger. Better