E. Blair - Falling

“When is your next break?”

“She has the last two weeks of this month off before her last quarter,” I answer for her so she doesn’t have to speak.

“You and Ryan come visit, okay?” she offers as she looks at her.

We say our goodbyes, and she leaves to drive back home. Turning Candace around, I hold her in my arms and give her a few minutes to just be sad. I’m grateful for the bond the two of them have forged, but I don’t like seeing my girl upset like this.

“You okay, babe?”

“I hate that she lives so far away,” she says as I wipe her face. “I really like having her around.”

“I know you do. We’ll go visit her when you’re on your break.”

She rests her head on my chest and sighs before saying, “My parents never even called me.” I grip the back of her head and hold her tight as she adds, “I mean . . . I knew they wouldn’t, but it still hurts.”

“I know it does.”

And this is the shit I hate. Thinking about her mom and dad, wondering how they could turn away from their daughter so easily. I know it’s possible because of my own dad, but thinking about everything Candace has gone through in the past several months cuts me deep, and all I want to do is protect her from anything that could hurt her.

“Come on, let’s go grab something to eat before we go to the campus,” I tell her and just hope to God that she got this solo because I don’t want to see how upset she’ll be if she didn’t.

Seeing the look on her face was priceless. She was shocked and giddy and couldn’t control her enthusiasm when she jumped into my arms, squealing. She got her solo, and I couldn’t have been more proud. This girl works her ass off, but it got me thinking more about what my mom said. I’m not ignorant of the fact that Candace will probably get a job that requires her to move. I’ve been taking a lot of time away from the bar these past few weeks, and I need to start considering what her moving means for me and my business.

When I walk into the bedroom, I notice that the door to the bathroom is cracked open. Slowly opening the door wider, I see her standing there in my boxers and a tank top, finishing up brushing her teeth. It’s been a long day, and she’s been through a string of emotions since this morning. I walk up from behind and slip my arms around her as I drop a few kisses along the curve of her bare shoulder. She holds on to my arms with her hands as we watch each other in the mirror.

She turns around, and I lift her up onto the edge of the sink and look down at her; she has a peaceful look about her tonight.

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous,” I tell her, and my words make her laugh as I lower my mouth to hers.

Sliding my tongue past her lips, she hooks her ankles behind my waist, burying her hands in my hair. Her touch excites me but in a soothing way. I pick her up, walk her across the room, and fall into bed with her. I stare down, and I know, that no matter what happens, she has me. I don’t want to belong to anyone but her.

She runs her hands up my chest and around to the back of my neck, pulling me down, and we kiss. We kiss in a way that’s different than all the times before. I can’t explain it, but it takes over me, holding a new level of passion. I press her firmly to me, tasting the mint that still lingers in her mouth.

Lifting her back off the bed, I sit her up and watch her as she removes her top. I get caught up in her and press her back down onto the bed, situating my hips between her legs. She’s so warm against me, and my chest begins to tighten with the effect this girl has on me.

I never gave my heart to anyone before. I never wanted to. I was scared. But maybe I was just saving it for her. And now, I want to give this girl more than my heart. I want to give her everything.

Realizing that I’m getting too carried away with myself, I pull back, nearly panting, “We should stop,” as I rest my forehead on her sternum.

She runs her hands through my hair, whispering, “Don’t.”

Her words are unexpected, so I pull up to look over her face, to try and read what she’s thinking.

“Babe,” I breathe out, heavy.

She looks me straight in the eyes and tells me, “I don’t want you to stop.”

“I need you to talk to me,” I respond with nerves coursing through me, unsure of what to do here.

“I don’t want to stop tonight.”

Fear. That’s what comes over me when I hear her words. Closing my eyes, I drop my head to hers. My heart is racing when I urge, “Please tell me this is okay,” because the thought of this scares me.

She nods her head against mine, but it isn’t enough. “I need to hear you say it, babe.”

I finally open my eyes when she cups my face and assures me, “It’s okay. I want this, with you, I just . . . I don’t know if I can.”

But suddenly, I don’t know if I can. I want to. I’ve wanted to since I met her, but now . . . now I’m afraid, and I don’t know what to do with her. I’m not sure if she sees my panic when she takes my hand in hers and places it over her breast, urging quietly, “Just touch me.”

Her hand trembles against mine, and if this does happen, I can’t have her feeling like this. So I do everything I can to push my anxiety away to focus on making sure she’s relaxed. She’s been taken advantage of by the two people before me, and I want to make this perfect for her.

I lower myself and kiss her. I take my time and really kiss her. Pressing my lips slowly into hers, grazing my tongue along her lip, and sealing my mouth with hers. My hand slides up from her breast and underneath the strap on her shoulder. As I move my hand down her arm, I take the strap with it, slipping it off, feeling the tension in the elastic releasing.

She’s never let me see her naked. The closest, a bra and my boxers. So when I begin to reach around her, my anticipation is overwhelming. But then, in a moment, she nervously mutters, “I’m scared. I’ve never . . .”

“It’s just you and me,” I tell her. “You’re all I’ll ever want.”

She faintly nods, and when I unclasp the hooks behind her back, she crosses her arm over her chest. Laying my hand over hers, I lift it up and drop her bra to the floor. I look at her. I’ve always wanted to but she’s always been too shy. Then my eyes stop on a serrated, crescent scar on her left breast, and what I think it might be is confirmed when she shamefully bares, “He bit me.”

I won’t let that piece of shit filter into this moment. She’s embarrassed, and there’s no fuckin’ way I’m gonna let that bastard claim another piece of her. Even with this scar, he can’t take away from how gorgeous she is.

Leaning down, I kiss her scar and breathe into her skin, “God, you’re perfect.”

I take my kisses and drop them down her stomach before sitting back on my heels to remind her that she isn’t alone. I bring her hand to my ribs and over my scar. We don’t speak. There’s no need. She gets it when she brushes her thumb across the jagged line and then pulls me down to her, hands trussed in my hair.

The feel of her naked body against my chest is gratifying beyond words. With no barriers, I run my tongue up the smooth skin of her breast and slowly across her pert nipple before taking her into my mouth. The pressure of her fingertips pressing into my shoulders strengthens when my hands find themselves at the band of her shorts. She lifts her hips when I begin to remove her boxers and panties at the same time. God, every inch of her is stunning, and I suddenly feel undeserving to have this girl who is far above what I could have ever imagined for myself.

She watches as I slip off my pants and then lower myself back to her, grabbing the sheets and covering us up. I lie here naked with her and have never felt so connected. She’s warm against me, but as I trail my hands slowly along her soft skin, I can feel her trembling.