I feel her warm, naked body against my chest, and I don’t know whose hands I’m feeling, but I know they’re there. I’m consumed by them.
My arms wrap tightly around Hanna, needing her close, burying myself in her until I’m bathed in her warmth.
All I know is them, their cries of pleasure filling my ears and my mind. Pressed between the beating of their hearts, we move to the same rhythm, like waves crashing together against the shore. And when I feel them climax around me, I let the tide take me too.
I come, and come, and come until there is nothing left of me.
My ears begin to ring, my body buzzing like the static of a radio as I collapse.
“You’re okay. We’ve got you.”
Instead of wanting to escape, feeling like it’s wrong to be so vulnerable, I let them have this raw, unguarded version of me.
“It’s okay, Nash,” she whispers, her lips pressed against my neck.
“Let it out.” His voice comes from the opposite side.
All of the emotion bubbling, spilling, hemorrhaging from my insides, runs like a river over everything between us. And there is no stopping it.
“I’m so sorry,” I sob. “I’m sorry for everything I did to you. You’re the last ones I ever wanted to hurt, and I hurt you so bad.”
They squeeze me tighter. Then the blindfold is pulled back and I squeeze my eyes closed, but the room is dim, almost pitch black. Still, I can see them. Hanna is quick to wipe my tears while Ellis brushes my hair out of my face. “There you are,” he whispers.
“I love you,” I say before I can stop myself. Before the fear crawls back in to censor me from saying the things I should have said a long time ago, and I hope they know I mean the both of them. I love the way things are right now when we don’t need to define anything or fear anything and we are truly free.
Free to fall.
36
Am I a fool to take him back? Maybe, but there is something invisible stringing us together. Something unbreakable, and I can either live in agony, knowing I’ll never be truly free of Nash Wilde, or I can spend every moment of my life reeling him back in every time a part of him retreats like he did before.
If I have to lay him out like I did today, I will. I won’t say I didn’t love it, watching him break, lashing him with every ounce of hurt he embedded in me.
I climb out of bed, unable to sleep and walk silently to the kitchen. Pulling a glass from the cabinet, I opt for water instead of whiskey. A clear head is probably the best way to go here.
It’s only a few minutes until I see his silhouette walking quietly through the apartment. He stops on the opposite side of the island, watching me cautiously. Even in the dark, I can see the heavy bags under his eyes. If I had to guess when the last time Nash truly let go and cried the way he did tonight, I’d guess it was easily five or more years and definitely not so openly. I could see the adrenaline coursing through him, and I know the way he’s feeling now. Renewed, but exhausted.
Without a word, I push the glass of water across the countertop, encouraging him to drink. I made sure he hydrated before he fell asleep and even forced him to eat something, but he sobered up with hesitation. Not ready to face reality I assume.
He takes the glass and drinks, setting it down when it’s empty, so I refill it, taking a sip of my own. It’s silent a moment before he finally mumbles a soft, “thank you.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” I reply. It’s only partly true. I did it for all of us.
“I know.”
“How are you feeling?” I ask, leaning against the counter with my arms crossed. My body language says I’m not opening myself back up to him, and yeah, a part of me wants to see what version of Nash I’m getting today before I let him in. In my head I know it doesn’t matter. I’m helpless against him either way.
“Good…great.”
“That’s good.”
Silence again. And with every passing second the tension grows. Finally unable to take another second, he steps forward, bracing his hand on the granite between us.
“I know I’m fucked up, Ellis. I know I can be difficult and nothing I do is