A/N: Merry Christmas! Hope you all got what you wanted. Here's my gift to you. Enjoy. Thank you all.

Chapter 8 - Silhouettes

Jess is online. My stomach churns because I can't stand her and it means Masen is probably around. We're working together on a presentation for her. I don't have to do much but she's kind of a moron. I guide her through the outline I set up and I'm basically telling her what to do. I know how shitty presenting is and Masen can be brutal when he critiques. Women helping each other out, I guess. Whatever. If Kate was here, she'd laugh her ass off.

She can't seem to get the hang of screen sharing. I keep telling her to click the fucking button. "No, that one. No! That's the video one. The one beside it." I type furiously.

Kate isn't here today. I woke up, took a shower and actually dressed in normal clothes. I attempted to blow dry my hair hoping it'll look somewhat presentable. I don't want Kate's meeting to end early and show up to see me look a mess. I don't want to hear her mouth going.

I had a balanced breakfast of eggs and toast hoping it'll help with the facade. Maybe if I pretend I'm ok, I'll be ok.

I let out a frustrated grunt. Jess still doesn't know how to work this thing.

"Wait, let me get Masen," she types. And that was my fear. I roar, head tilted back and do the hand claws where you'd just like to rip a throat. My fingers bang on the keyboard.

Blip.

"Oh my god," I say in horror. I hit enter by mistake and I see Jess's face full-screen. She can see mine. "Fuck. I told you, not that button!"

"There you are!" She exclaims like she's figured it out. "Oh, nice lip. Digging the red." I roll my eyes and curl said lips into a snarl.

"Jess, no time."

"OK, wait!" She stares at the screen more. I can see all her forehead wrinkles as she leans in and her head gets twice as large. Five minutes pass. I take a sip of my morning smoothie or I'll curse at her.

I take the moment to snoop on her surroundings. An unmade bed sits behind her with a mound of clothes and cosmetics. Dirty ho. A door is open to the far right. She's in a bedroom. Maybe a hotel or a brothel, who the fuck knows. She sits on a chair at a desk with papers splayed everywhere. My living room looks the same.

"I'm sorry. Just one sec. Please don't log off," she pleads and runs out of the room. Her stupid cute outfit pops into view; slim, high-waisted jeans, a tank loosely fitted over a pink bra. Her blonde locks flow in waves behind her.

I sigh. Of course, he would find that attractive. I find that attractive. She's gorgeous. They probably just finished having sex on that bed I see through the sharp, clear screen.

Stop it.

I see her outside the door walking around barefoot, nonchalantly talking on the phone...while I wait. I see someone standing by her, she shoos them into the room and points at her laptop. Masen walks in. I could kill her.

He kind of does a double take when he sees me. His strides slow and so does the faint grin appearing on his lips. He folds himself into the desk chair to face me. Ché Guevara's silhouette takes up most of the screen for a second before he lifts the lid to frame his face. The t-shirt snugly fits around his shoulders and chest. What gets me isn't that or how long I've gone without seeing him, but seeing his bare feet while he walked towards me just about killed me. He's comfortable. He's in his element. They're living in an apartment together.

We stare at one another. Not a word is uttered. I kind of freeze. Maybe if I don't move long enough he'll think the connection has failed and I can close the lid of my laptop.

He leans on an elbow to rest his chin on a few knuckles.

"My red-lipped beauty," he says in wonder. That grin still playing over his lips. He remembered. I don't respond because my insides melt. I want to cry.

I forgot about the stupid lipstick. It had to be today I decided to wear it again.

He chuckles a bit. "I really wanted to kiss you again that day you answered the door." He looks straight at the camera. I can see the dark specks in his gray eyes. "Remember that?"

I curl my lips into themselves and lick off the pigment. I still don't answer. I can't. I look out the windows facing my couch and this is heart wrenching...and bullshit.

He shifts where he sits and tucks his hands under the desk. "Don't do that." He tells me to stop.

I interrupt him. "So, why didn't you?"

He watches my lips, the red has lightened and faded. "What? Kiss the shit out of you?" He thinks. He shrugs slightly and smirks. "Rose, probably. I was scared of her...of what she'd think. Still am."

Her reaction on Sunday comes to mind. I ask him, "Why?" He chuckles once, probably wondering where this is going.

"Uhh...I don't know. I guess...," he says as he thinks it through. He shifts in his chair and even through the feed I see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. I blink slowly to wipe away the memory of the feeling, tucked into that neck when I had the chance. He chuckles softly again. "She told me she'd rip my balls off if I got close."

"To me?"

He looks straight at the small lens. "To you." I breathe in deeply. I nod. Just as I suspected. Rose's influence was all over this. All this time and I didn't know.

Jess walks into the room bringing us back to the matter at hand. She's still on the phone as she grabs cigarettes from the bureau. She leaves without a glance.

"So did you find that button on Jess...uh, for Jess? To, you know, share the screen?" I clear my throat.

His shoulders visibly drop. He sighs and looks back at the door. "Not yet." He scratches a bicep, runs his fingers through his hair.

I nod. He looks a bit put off by what I said. Good.

"I'm sure you will. Let her know I have to work on a few things, though. I have to go."

He doesn't make a move. He just watches. After a very long pause he asks, "So, you're home?"

"Yup."

"Good. Glad Emmett heard me out. I told him you needed time." He looks down at the desk and dabs on a few papers in front of him with fingertips.

What? So, it was him who allowed me to work remotely? Blood boils in me. I feel the heat rising up my neck. "Needed time for what exactly? Why would you think I needed time?"

He looks up confused. He's a bit careful with his next response.

"Bella..." His eyes close a moment.

"No, tell me. Why should I need time if I don't know what I'm grieving for?"

He shakes his head slightly. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You haven't told me anything. I don't know what even happened!" I yell. "That's what I mean."

"You never gave me a chance to explain anything, Bella. You locked yourself in the bathroom, remember?"

"Tell me." I sit back and cross my arms. I'm eerily calm. "Go ahead." He stares. Anger is visible through pixels. When he doesn't speak I push. "So...you used my key. You barged in. Came into my room and saw us in bed, right? Is that how it went?"

He bangs his fists on the desk. "No..." He begins to speak. His mouth is snarled slightly to keep quiet. But he stops. He straightens in his chair and looks at something far away in thought.

I wait. I watch all of these expressions morph over his face. Whatever decision he's made he looks determined.

"You know what?" he says, almost to himself. He stands and rattles the chair to the floor with the force. He walks away from the screen and out the room. I gape.

Jess is shoved out of the way at the threshold where they bump into one another. She's confused. I watch her turn back and look out from her bedroom door.

"Masen," she calls after him. I see a commotion and lift the laptop closer to my face to see. What the hell is he doing?

Jess walks out for a moment. I see him walk past the door in a rush, she follows after. I hear muffling and then yelling. A door slams far away. She appears in her room. She walks to the laptop and sits. She says nothing.

"Umm." I lift my hands and let them fall over my thighs. "Can I know where he went?" I ask.

She finishes pushing papers together in a pile and shrugs, but she looks pissed. "Don't know. He said he won't be back until Sunday."

It's Friday. That's almost two days. "Did he say where he went?" She doesn't respond. Oh my god, like pulling teeth here. "Jess!" I snap.

She sighs. "I don't know, I'm not his secretary, thank god."

"So, did he fix the computer?" She asks, tinkering with the trackpad. It wasn't even broken. God, I want to strangle her. She stares at the screen but not at me. "I still can't see your desktop." Oblivious. Completely.

"OK, gotta go. Good luck with your...thing. I can't..."

"Uh, hello," is the last thing I hear her say. I log off. I should've just logged off the moment I saw him. What is wrong with me? I grab handfuls of hair on my head and try to breathe but panic settles in.

The buzzer for the door goes off. Jittery, I go and buzz Kate in. I open the door and hear her heavy boots up the steps. When she's at the top she stares at me. Immediately she knows somethings up. "Make me a sandwich while you tell me everything," she says and pushes through the door.

A half-hour later she takes the last bite and looks up. "So, where the hell did he go?"

I pull my hair in frustration. "I don't know!"

"Hm. This is exciting." She puts the plate in the sink. "Do you realize your life is full of surprises? It's a fucking adventure. And I don't get why since you're kind of plain." She shrugs.

"Hah!" I'm not laughing. I fall into a chair.

"I, on the other hand, have to find my own adventure. In which case, John and I hooked up," she says with a bounce and fist pump.

Aw, damn. I've been selfish. She's really had a crush on this guy for the longest. I should be happy for her. I pull out the ice cream from the fridge and a spoon from the cabinet. "Tell me all the things." She does, and it's so great to not think of anything for a while. All the anger simmers down.

We pull stacks of folders onto our laps to work on contracts Emmett needs by the end of the day. I let her fill the uneasiness I feel deep inside with gossip and kiss and tells. But it's working in my head constantly. That feeling. The dread. The problems. It doesn't give me a break. What do I do about this? I want none of this dilemma anymore. I want to just be happy.

The day crawls. I make dinner while Kate sits with her laptop and tries to get rid of Jess who badgers through Skype. She's been working on her presentation and freaking out. Kate is her next victim.

"I swear, why did they hire her?" she asks.

"Beats the fuck out of me." I pause to gain the courage to say what's itching inside. I scoop her a heaping spoon of zucchini spaghetti with homemade cashew, cilantro and garlic sauce to go with the pieces of bacon. Because what raw eating vegan has this with meat? Me, that's who. I hand her a plate.

"I think they're living together." I blurt it out. Kate looks up and looks away quickly. I gasp. "You knew?"

"No, I mean. I don't know. I kind of heard something like that at work. Masen has a friend who owns a building. It's temporary. It was less money for Emmett. Just worked out."

"Oh." Great.

"It's no big deal, so stop it."

"I know! I just...noticed it that's all. I'm sayin'...yeesh." I'm devastated.

"Well, I heard the owner of the building was a close family friend. He helped Masen pay for art school."

"Really?" How come he never told me that?

"The guy saw he was good with a camera so he sponsored him. Masen does some kind of freelance for him from time to time. I don't know why he became a union organizer and not a full-time photographer."

Well, I know that part. He told me. "His mom was sick. He had to make money, not follow a stupid dream. His words, not mine." I explain.

Kate nods. "Well, that's heart-wrenchingly sweet. So, she's fine?"

"She died."

Kate sits back on the couch, shoulders down and looks at me. "Wow."

One of the many things we both related with—my dad, his mom. He would sit where she's sitting now and tell me how his deadbeat dad pretty much drove her to her death faster with his shitty life decisions. When Masen was big enough, that's when it began. His mother watched as they'd fight...physically. I guess that's why the bar fights were an ease for him. He's had a few practice shots before, too many. He's alone now. An only child and no uncle or aunts to search for.

I remember it so clearly. He'd tell the story as I curled a lock of his hair around my finger. I don't think he would ever spill his heart out if he wasn't so intoxicated. But at the end of the night, he came to my door, crashed on my couch instead of someone else's. That meant something. Who am I kidding? That meant more to me than anything. Stupid infatuation.

"Baby sister...you're gonna drive men wild." He'd slur with fingertips running down my neck. "You're beautiful."

I should've stopped him when his fingers would wander too far, down my chest, popping a few buttons to skim my bra under a heaving chest. I just about fainted when a thumb found the hardened peak through lace and fabric. He made me want him madly.

But every time he'd pull away. The wandering was over in seconds, leaving me messy with nerves and feelings.

I blink. Kate is quiet like she's mourning my unspoken thoughts with me. My ears are slightly muted underwater drifting. I barely register as she picks up her things and murmurs a few goodbyes and thank-yous for lunch and dinner. I nod. It's all I can manage as I walk her to the door, watch her go before closing the door to lean a cheek on the frame for a good second.

I'm on a cloud as I push myself off and walk to my dark room. The city lights lighten the duvet and the walls with glowing stripes from the shades. Maybe if I crawl into bed now I'll dream of him. Sweater off and over my head, I look down at my bra and it's the same one he touched. I attempt to let out an incredulous chuckle but a sob comes out instead.

The front door is pushed open. I start.

I look out my bedroom towards the slight view of the front door. Where I stand, I see there's no one there. My heart goes from broken to pounding fear in a second, because I locked it.

"Kate?" I call. I don't know why I do. She doesn't have a key. I grab my sweater and drape it over my chest and think and think. I look around. The window. The fire escape would do. Heart racing, I finally move. Then I stop. A thought. I have one key, he took the other from my coffee table.

Right then, he walks into the living room. The tail of his coat trails behind with his haste. He turns into the kitchen, nothing there. He pushes the door to the outside bathroom and finds it empty inside.

I watch a determined, flushed-faced Masen turning circles outside my bedroom. He's yet to find me, glued feet to the floor, wide eyes and pounding heart ready to stop.

The moment he steps out from the empty bathroom his eyes find mine. He pauses at the narrow hallway and glares. Not a muscle moves in me. He's cast in shadow but he's here bone, flesh, and blood...and angry. His chest lifts and falls, unsettled between the lapels of his coat like he's been running for miles to get here.

Metal clinks loudly on the floor. The key falls out of his palm. He lifts a hand to pull off the bag from his back, it drops to the floor beside him. And when he takes a step forward I take a step back. Then I can't step back further. The lamp on my nightstand swivels behind me and falls. His advance is more startling than the crash. He grabs me. My arms are pinned to my sides with his grip. I look up at the fury in his eyes and cripple under their weight.

"You want to know what he didn't have a chance in hell to do?" He speaks. I'm mute. So much to say hours ago I just gape now.

"I walk in through that door," he shouts and points. "To an empty living room, an empty kitchen, just like now. Not a sign of you anywhere. My dread was knowing I'd find you in here, straight from the bar, underneath him. Rose's sister. The girl I was supposed to keep safe. A fucking promise!" He bangs a fist against his chest.

"I almost didn't walk in here. I fucking thought about it real hard. It wasn't my right. You weren't mine." He says holding me tighter. He's trembling. I feel my limbs tremble beneath him.

"But that moment, Bella...the moment I heard you, I knew. You called out to me like you knew I'd be here. That cry broke me. It marked me for life!"

Tears burn down my cheeks. I look away but he doesn't let me. He holds up my trembling chin to look up at him. He wipes a tear with a thumb.

"And she cries," he says to no one, a chuckle and a sigh pushes out of him. "I'm trying to tell her that he had no way in hell, not a chance to even put a single finger on her. Because I walked in...and when I did, I almost broke his fucking spine before he undid that last button on his fly."

I let out a sob. My mind opens up and I do remember the bang. The wooden floors by the bed shook under two bodies colliding. The lamp swiveled on the nightstand. The closet door swung open, banged on the wall with a kick. Failing arms and fists. No words. None of them even uttered profanities. I only remember the loud bang and struggling to keep my eyes open.

"Do you want to know what happened next?" He offers with a nod like he can read the flashing memory through my mind. I let my head fall. He crouches to find my eyes. "I won't leave out a detail. I promise," he whispers.

My breath staggers as I try to compose myself. He lets go to pull off his coat. It drops to the floor by the bed. The pillows tumble as he pulls on the plush comforter, turning it down. He toes off his sneakers one at a time, pushes them aside. He reaches back to pull on his collar. His shirt is off. I watch as the thin metal chain settles on his chest. Then he reaches for my chest. I let him, no hesitation or doubt. I drop my arms and he pulls on the sweater, then my jeans where he frames my hips with his hands to pull them off.

I get the hint. This is overwhelming. If the lights weren't off I'm sure he'd see the shades of red springing up my neck to the tips of my ears.

He lifts the bed sheet, stands back and waits. I crawl in. Tears drip onto the pillow beneath my head as I watch him climb in beside me. I'm pulled flush to him without question. This bra grows warm with closure against his chest, soft to firm pecs. He sighs trying to calm. I sigh because I'm home.

I breathe. I breathe it all in. Every silent hiccup you get from crying settles with the scent I find on him. That neck I love so much is pressed to my lips. I close my eyes.

We lay here exhausted. Hours. The world and worry off his shoulders and mine. I was fine. Nothing happened that night. Nothing but gentleness and care I can't remember. This. I run a hand over his chest in wonder. How could I have forgotten a moment like this?

I run a nail down his arm and let the last few stray of tears dry out. I can't. My heart is a bundle of mess and he just lays here breathing warmth into my hair. I pull away. I reach for those lips and press mine to them eagerly.

"Thank you," I tell him between slow kisses from his mouth his chin. I look into his darkened eyes. "I'm sorry for putting you through that."

He sighs softly, looks at my ceiling. "I didn't like it...I don't. Seeing him, you. I could've killed him, Bella. I want to, still."

I infinitesimally shake my head before I press my lips to his. I lick a trail between his parted ones. He watches me, eyes traveling down to my mouth, he shuts them briefly.

His jaw flexes where I drift. His throat works beneath it and I follow with my lips, nestling there. I graze teeth over skin I coveted through a pixelated screen hours ago. I look at him. I wait. The pause so long I hope to god he doesn't pull away.

The moment he relents I see it in his eyes. He pulls me in and kisses me like I've dreamed him doing on this very bed. I'm on my back and he's all over. The statue comes to life under my hands. We kiss for hours it seems. He hugs me close, gripping handfuls of curves and heated skin. He roams.

Slowly, his thumbs find the straps of my lucky bra and his mouth is there. Fingers pulling on cups and a warm mouth around me. His thumb circling around a hardened nipple, the other between his teeth. He pulls. I curl my spine so hard. I grab his hair and don't let go. My arms are trapped under the hooked bra. He leaves it behind to crawl between my legs.

"Bella..." His mouth at my torso. He's on his knees pulling things off, bobbing with the final pull of his underwear. I watch the silhouettes of his thighs and torso hovering over me. The sheets tumble off of us along with clothes. He crawls back up, but on his way he pulls me apart to lick. One slow startling stroke.

I lose it. Chest heaving, ready to stop breathing. My thighs frame his shoulders, settling around his waist as he travels up.

"I saw you like this," he says breathlessly. "Just like this and fuck." He bucks. I feel him and swallow a cry. "You were beautiful then, now," he murmurs, his mouth full, slipping off a hard nipple to get to my neck. His lips roam everywhere, hands at my sides, hips, and thighs. "Would you let me, Bella? Would you?" He runs himself between me over and over as if asking to let him. I'd just about faint if he doesn't.

Mumbled words are all I can muster as I widen. I practically gauge out skin from his back when he sinks in.

The sounds he makes. The graze of his hips, his hands by my head as he moves. This is a dream, but I run my fingers over his chest, move right with him, and I know it's real. He grabs my hand to trail it down. He watches my eyes flutter as I feel everything. That chain around his neck twirling above, skimming my sensitive skin like he does with his fingers. "Show me. I want to see you," he says.

No shame in him knowing what I've tried with images of him. I weave my fingers around his and show him, then I can't keep my eyes open. He shifts to deepen and I can't keep quiet. Leaning on a hand, the other between us, he watches everything as he just about pulls me apart. Every thrust is satiating. An old, lonely, hopeful void being filled. I hold on to him or anything, trembling hands against my headboard. Desperate. Panting, along with him. Our rhythm fervent. His eyes rapt, knowing—this is what we've wanted for so long. He takes his time until I am breathless.

The last few erratic thrusts are drawn out as he grinds excruciatingly slow. Handfuls of my hair. Hard kisses. He watches me, knitted brows, knowing there's no turning back from this. He has given in, himself, fully. His feelings exposed.

I lie on my side staring at the veins plump on his hand, running up his arm. It's late. I can't sleep. How could I? He's pressed behind me and this was a monumental moment in my life.

I can't believe he came all this way just to yell it in my face. I guess we both let our anger get carried away, for years now, an old quarrel between lovers. Maybe he's a little worse. I sigh. Deep inside I know I'm worse.

But God, his hands, this one dangling around my waist as he sleeps. I get to caress and stare at it. This contentment eases in.

I shift. I can't keep still. I settle my head back on his arm, turn to kiss it. God, I love him. Every inch of skin at my back.

Said hand around me twitches. A few fingers tap against my belly. Stop moving, he seems to say. I try to hold back a chuckle. I don't move, but I settle for outlined hearts with a fingertip in his palm. On my fifth one, I wince. His teeth dig into my shoulder and he pins my hand to the side. "Go to sleep," he says groggily. I bite on my lip to not laugh.

I sigh, probably too loudly. I stretch out my legs and things ache. I contemplate on said things as my toes find his under sheets.

What now? Is this it? Morning comes and he'll go back to New York to his apartment, to Jess, and that's that? I don't know. How do I ask about his living arrangement or everything he hasn't told me? So many questions. I want to know. I daydream imagining us at work. Would things be different? Would he hide it?

I think, I think. I curl a few toes over his nail beds, and then I think of those. Even his feet are gorgeous. A chuckle escapes because of course, he's fucking perfect. Every inch. So many inches. I bite my lip remembering, just hours ago. The second time we rumpled this bed, when I told him, "Again." Even with all the questions, I can't help but feel complete bliss as I wiggle toes on his.

I start. He whispers a snarl into my ear, "You are insufferable." All the air in my lungs seems to rush out when I feel that dangling hand run past my navel. No lessons needed this time. I grip his arm and I'm lost, not in thought, but exploring the feel of his calf with my ankle. Shifting back to get closer. If he wasn't awake, he should be now. Me? Elated.

I don't know how many times I fall boneless against him but the warm glow shines brighter through the shades from my windows. My eyes crack open and I stare at them. Nothing comes to mind for a few seconds when I wake. I feel the weight and warmth beside me and all the memories rush in. I look around and this isn't quite right. The room is upside down. The sheets are twisted around us. My boobs are bare and apparently, free range to be his cushions. We're at the foot of the bed. Pillows sprawled on the floor just like his limbs all over me.

I reach over and dab at his nose with a finger. When that only makes him scrunch it, I grab his hand and lift it off the bed just to watch it fall again. I unstick his hand from my boob and crawl over his back and lie there. Maybe I pat his ass cheek a few times for good measure.

"What the fuck did we do?" I whisper against his nape.

He suddenly pushes himself up. His hair in delicious disarray. I almost tumble off of him. "Please don't tell me you don't remember."

I kiss his neck. "Sorry. I do. It was rhetorical."

He plops back down, sending me with him. He's silent for a while. "You said it. We fucked. A lot."

"Oh, fuck."

"Yup."

We lie here. I wish it wouldn't end. He's here. He came to me. "You scared me you know," I admit out loud.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You broke my lamp, too."

"Negative. Your butt did." He turns his head to relieve the kinks from his neck. "Cute butt, though."

I hide a smile on his shoulder blade.

We landed on this side of the bed when he pulled me onto his lap. All the feelings attached. I don't think I've ever been so...turned on. He's good, so, so good, in every way. Just as I imagined, more. I blush because, damn, I pounced, went a little nuts. Both of us. All these years pent up. We were completely out if it. Bite marks, faint purple skin, and half moons scabbing up under my fingertips. I trace some on his back, brightened by the morning sun.

"I have to pee, but if I go to the bathroom you'll see me naked," I admit some more.

He chuckles. His back moves, making me bounce. I feel it in places that make my eyes flutter. "Sorry to break it to you, I've seen it all."

I sigh. "Even that night?" I cringe to ask. He's quiet, eyes closed. He nods faintly after a moment. "Were you a gentleman, cover me up?" I glance at his profile. His eyes blink and stare at something across the room.

I cover his lips with my index. "No, don't tell me."

I climb off him when he starts to sit up. He turns. His forearms frame my shoulders where I lay back down. He hovers over me. One kiss. Two. He lets go of my lips but his thumb skims my forehead. "A perfect gentleman, like my mom taught me. But I can't say I didn't take a peek." He smirks faintly.

I push a laugh through my nose. I cover my face with my hands. The weight of the thought turns a chuckle to a lump in my throat. He brushes away the tear that escapes. He watches it disappear from my temples along with the mortification. He's patient. He waits.

I look into his eyes and realize one thing. The pharmacy. Two warm cups in his hands.

"But I woke up alone. You weren't here. And I thought...when I saw you at the pharmacy. I didn't understand," I tell him.

"You ran." He confirms. I nod not able to speak. I settle for swallowing heavy and waiting.

"Well..." He runs a finger over my brows. "I wasn't sure how you'd react waking up beside me instead of him. I figured you'd need a coffee and a long explanation." He tilts his head to watch me. "I saw you run into the pharmacy. I followed."

I close my eyes. "God." I shade them with a palm. Then I pull him into a hug and he complies. "I'm such a moron," I whisper.

"Shh." His lips by my ear. I breathe. We fit like a glove. It's so comfortable like this. I almost drift again.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I have to ask. He shakes his head after a moment.

"I, uh...thought I overstepped. I thought you wanted him here, after. It wasn't my place. And...I was angry, enraged when I found out about... I should've known. I should've..." His fist comes around a mound of bed sheets. He buries his face in my neck. He sighs.

"I'm sorry. I was going to tell you, but I didn't know how to bring it up. I should've been watching, protecting you from...shit like this." He shakes his head over my shoulder. "It would've broken your heart, and...I couldn't have kissed you after." I feel him grin but it fades along with his guilt-ridden voice.

I swallow a few times to compose myself. "But I never did...want him. I was an idiot. I was just trying to get a reaction out of you. You're a locked box I can't decode. It was always you I wanted," I whisper, choking up.

I laugh through leaking tears. "It did...break my heart, and you did kiss me."

"No, you kissed me first." He straightens and looks at me.

I scoff and laugh. "Because you're a coward."

"Ouch." He looks around, suddenly quiet. "Yeah, I am."

He sits up at the edge of the bed. Rubs his face. I flush at the sight. All of that all over me. I sneak a peek when he stands, walks around trying to find his jeans. How many times have I dreamed him up like this in my room? He's gorgeous...and shameless. It almost makes me feel bold. I slowly swing my legs over the edge, try my hardest not to grab something to cower under. I busy myself with grabbing fallen pillows after the war and find that bra again. I should frame it.

I feel him watching me and I instantly tense. I pretend I don't notice. I busy myself with sheets next, but he's suddenly close. I instinctively cover up the knockers to look up at his hooded eyes.

"This...right here." He pushes the sheets away to trail a finger down the valley between my breasts, the dimple there, sternum to navel. I'm bathed in the morning light, covered in silhouettes from the window. "Olive skin and shadows," he mutters to himself, as he slowly runs a palm down from dimple to the flexing muscles of my belly. My breathing is all off.

"Wish I had my camera," he says, pulling me in, crushing my bare chest to his, hours of being pressed together, sheathed with sweat, still warm to the touch with him near. He runs a hand all over.

"I'd break it," I say.

He laughs. "We'll see about that." He smacks my behind lightly. "Go. Head start. I'll meet you in the shower."

And just like that, every hope and wet dream comes true for this hopelessly romantic girl.

….