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Don’t call me that.
Ali had never been one for pet names, not with him. And now, hearing the word seep out of her with such empathy and compassion made Cornell squeeze his eyes shut as if that would shield him from the fact that here she was trying to coax him out of the dark well he had fallen into when she never should have known he was at the bottom in the first place.
Cornell didn’t want what was coming. He didn’t want Ali to lead him out of the garage and into the bathroom, cleaning his bleeding knuckles, bringing him an ice pack. He didn’t want the softness of her touch, the care in her voice. I don’t deserve it. I should be taking care of you, not the other way around.
But Ali didn’t gently lead him out of the garage. She didn’t make a move to get an ice pack or the first aid kit from beneath the bathroom counter. She didn’t step away at all.
Instead, her hands abandoned his and grasped the back of Cornell’s neck, where she pulled with all her might so that his head dropped and she could stretch up enough to kiss him, her warm, soft lips pressing and pushing firmly against his.
But Cornell didn’t kiss her back. He didn’t breathe in Ali’s sweet breath, didn’t lean into her taste. His mouth hung agape as he saw it over and over.
Ali didn’t back away or relinquish her hold. “Something you hear,” she told him.
“You,” Cornell told her brokenly as his chest tightened. I hear youscreaming.
“Something you see.”
He opened his eyes, finding thick, fluttering lashes. “You.” Cornell cracked when Ali’s hand moved to his cheek, wiping tears he hadn’t even realized were there. Because blurry vision or not, the image was the same. I see him hurting you. I see you struggling, fighting. I see you needing me. His hand went to Ali’s, pressing it closer into his cheek. God, make it stop.
Cornell watched Ali wet her lips, feeling the sigh leave her mouth and dust across his own. He leaned into it, desperate to hold on, to swallow every bit of her down as if filling himself with Ali would somehow make him float up to the top.
“Something you feel,” she whispered. “What do you feel?”
“You.”
And suddenly, Ali was all Cornell could feel—her warmth, the weight of her as she jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist, the softness of her bare thighs meeting his waist, the sweatshirt of his she wore bunching at her middle. And that was all he wanted to focus on. There wasn’t anything from that night except harrowing pain that splintered his heart so severely Cornell would never be able to count the pieces.
But Ali was everything good Cornell would ever need. And she was right there with him. He was desperate to consume and be consumed by her presence, to let her softness invade him and clear his mind from the film he was watching on loop. Suddenly, Cornell knew how Ali had been feeling when she told him—begged him—“Take me back.”
Except now, Cornell’s mind, heart, and body were screaming silently to her—keep me here.
The message was desperate and rough, as if Cornell was trying to permeate it into her skin with each flick of his tongue, every graze of his teeth. Don’t let me be a monster. I need you to not let me be a monster. Because if I had just one second tonight, I would’ve been.
Ali gasped when Cornell slammed her against the garage wall. He pressed her into the cold stone so he could use both hands to touch her. And though Ali’s mouth met him inch for inch, pushing back just as hard, biting on his lip, her hands were still softly grazing his body, her touch still too loving, too caring, too much of everything he didn’t deserve.
Cornell swallowed down the gasp that escaped her mouth when he pulled her hands from his shoulders and raised her arms, clasping her thin wrists with one hand. Ali’s thighs tightened, squeezing his waist. He let his free, hot, inflamed hand glide from her jaw to her neck, down her body, desperate for the feel of her smooth skin as he lost himself further in Ali’s taste.
His hand fumbled for her underwear, groaning into her mouth as she writhed against him, her breathing racing when his mouth slid down her neck. Cornell had to pause in the sweet valley of her collarbone when the noises leaving her mouth grounded him. They were breathy and frantic, but not the kind that normally drove him wild, not the kind that let him know Ali was as lost in the moment as he was.
They were mewls, whimpers laced with an edge of nerves.
Cornell sucked in his breath and pulled his head back to look at Ali. Tear-filled eyes met his own, and she shook her head. “Not like this.” He could feel the trembling of her body still wrapped around him, the way her hands shook above his hold on her wrists. Ali’s shaking hip knocked against his other hand grasping the band of her underwear in a tight, clenched fist.
“Here’s what you don’t do, Cornell… Don’t pull my underwear so tight it feels like a rope slicing into me.”
The elastic snapped back against her side when Cornell quickly released it and his hold on her arms simultaneously. Ali’s hands flew to his face as it broke.
“I want to help you,” Ali cried, shaking her head and leaning it against Cornell’s, continuing to stroke his face. “But not like this. Not like this.”
I’m already a monster, Cornell labeled himself as his body began to shake with regret.
“I didn’t… I’m so fucking sorry.” His hands moved to her hips to lower her, but Ali clung to him, refusing to be let go of—refusing to let go of him. “I wasn’t thinking… I’m so fucking sorry.”
You weren’t thinking about her. You were only thinking of yourself.
The sob that escaped his chest was so forceful Cornell expected it to push Ali off him. But she held on even when it nearly knocked him off his feet.
“I’m so sorry,” he repeated as they sank to the ground.
