Page 71 of Trust

A blush colors her cheeks. Her teeth nervously graze her lower lip like she’s bracing for an answer she might not want. Unable to hold my gaze for long, she looks down, her eyes landing on the tiny, red-edged hole below my ribs.

“Did I do that?” she asks, her face brightening as a wicked grin breaks through.

Before I can answer, she reaches for me, her fingers slipping beneath the fabric. One touch, and the careful distance between us disappears.

Her smooth fingertips are warm against my body. She lifts the shirt carefully, examining the tiny cut as if it matters more than it does. Her hand lingers, and my skin burns where she touches me. She traces the flesh around the mark.

That’s all it takes. My restraint cracks, splintering hairline-thin. I take her wrist and pull her toward me. She doesn’t resist, the air catching in her lungs.

I kiss her.

For a split second, I almost pull back, because this isn’t what I’m supposed to do. Because she’s still learning who she is, and this should only be a job for me.

But then she leans in, and I’m lost.

My tongue roams her mouth with a hunger I’ve been trying to ignore. She melts into it instantly. Her hand slips beneath my shirt again, now with a different purpose. She explores my abs, ribs, chest. Her touch isn’t shy. It’s curious, unguarded. She’s claiming every inch she can reach.

I shift slowly, pushing her back until her shoulders meet the mattress. I cover her, half my weight pressing into her body, fitting between her legs as though I always belonged there.

The lamp flickers out just as thunder cracks above.

Her hands move to my back, tracing the muscles there. Her welcoming thighs part wider. My hips press closer, and her fingers dig into my skin.

I kiss her deeper.

She’s all jittery nerves with a sweetness that catches me off guard.

If I don’t stop now, I’ll pin her to this mattress, rip her clothes off, and kiss every inch of her until she forgets her own name. I’ll map her skin with my mouth, one breathless moan at a time, until she’s trembling under me, begging for more. But tonight is not the time.

I force myself to pull back, panting against her lips. My palm cups her cheek, my thumb brushing lightly across her flushed skin illuminated again and again by jagged bursts of light.

“I wanted to do this the moment you almost broke my nose,” I whisper.

She lets out a giggle and buries her face against my shoulder.

I stroke her hair, anchoring myself in the rhythm of it, waiting for my heartbeat to settle. I have to get out of here. That’s the smart move, the right move. Put space between us before I make a mistake I can’t undo, but the thought of walking out is tearing muscle from bone. Even though every part of me screams to stay, I say it.

“I should go, check the generator.”

Forcing my legs toward the door, I grip the frame like it’s the only thing holding me upright.

I glance back once more, and the fight is over before it even starts. My voice comes out rougher than I intended.

“If you want, you can sleep in my bed tonight.”

Then I leave her there without waiting for an answer. Some things you don’t chase. You wait and hope they choose you back.

SLEEP ONLY

Sara

The rain fades, and silence twists knots around the minutes as they crawl by. I made out with two men in one day. Men, I have no future with. Men who carry death as easily as others carry keys. Cash burned me with a spark. Chris drew me in with a force I couldn’t shake, and I wanted both. I want both.

Chris’s mouth is on mine, at least in memory. If he hadn’t stopped, I would’ve let him take it all, take me. I know that as clearly as I know my own name. And Cash? If things had gone further with him, I doubt I would have stopped that either. What does it say about me, that I ache for both kinds of fire?

Soon, I’ll be back in my own bed and back to my old life: my room, school, the arguments I don’t care about, and a big house where what made it a home left with my mom’s death. All of this will fade into a dream and eventually sound more like fiction than lived experience. But right now, it is real: every touch, every look, every breath. I’ve never felt so alive.

A couple of hours later, I’m still staring at the ceiling. My heart pulses behind my ribs as if it’s counting down to the inevitable. You can sleep in my bed tonight. The line rewinds in my head until it’s no longer hypothetical. It’s an invitation. I don’t know how to respond. I’ve never gotten into someone’s bed before.