I hope you all had a fabulous holiday weekend! Welcome back!

*drags you all out of bed, kicking and screaming*

Chapter Twenty-Four: Wonders & Willpower

I'm scared.

I'm frightened that I've walked into this house knowing exactly who I am.

I'm absolutely terrified I won't recognize myself when I leave.

"Cotton," Rowdy whispers roughly. "Touch me."

I already am. Every inch of my body that's not covered by my dress and wet undies is pressed against his skin. It's too hot in here, but it's not the temperature of Mississippi that makes it sweltering. The heat we've created makes us both sweat and Rowdy licks the moisture from my upper lip.

"I want you bad," Rowdy says. "You have to touch me."

It's no longer a statement; it's an undeniable request, the kind made when no options are left. He leans up slightly and I raise his plain t-shirt, pulling until it's over his head. He jerks on the drawstring of his plaid pajama bottoms and I scoot back slightly until they're down.

I gasp and my hand trembles, as if I'm the one who suffers from seizures. I've never seen a boy like this before, up close and as real as can be.

I don't know anything about anything, but I've felt the hardness of Rowdy before, that one time in my bedroom. But he's not like that now, even though he wants to be. His fingers clasp the end of my dress and he lifts the ends until the fabric is in a puddle on the floor.

I feel bare, with no bra to protect me. I feel simple and not enough. I'm not like those Weber girls, well-endowed with a chest that sticks out even under their Sunday dresses.

I'm flat and plain.

Rowdy doesn't care. He calls me beautiful and whispers the words until the night air carries them away. His palms caress me and the pads of his thumbs brush over my nipples.

I swallow and I can feel the hairs along my temple stick to my face. Rowdy grasps my hands, wrapping them around him.

"Your hands are on my cock, baby." I know. It makes me so nervous to touch him like this.

"Move 'em up and down, like this." He shows me how dirty things can become beautiful and how dirty words sound like hymns. He's my gospel, and I read him better than I read my scriptures.

I stroke him and Rowdy's moss green eyes pierce my world as he stares at me. His skin is hot, hot, hot, and it's a wonder he's not burning alive.

"I can't … fuckin' hell!" Rowdy groans and his fist pounds the bed in frustration.

He can't feel anything, he wants to say. We've gotten this far in our relationship—we've finally gotten to a place where it's happening—and he can't feel a single thing.

I've seen Rowdy cry before, but the wetness in his eyes is out of pure defeat.

Rowdy pushes my hands away and if he could, he would roll over. He would tell me to leave and he would give up.

I won't let him.

He closes his eyes, blocking out this moment as if it doesn't exist. I scoot down his legs and lean forward, kissing just below his belly button.

He doesn't react, doesn't sense me moving. He doesn't feel it when I kiss his hairs down there, or when I lift him up with one of my hands. He doesn't respond when I press my lips against the bare skin, or when I put him in my mouth. I use one of my hands to strum up his body, over his belly button and up towards his chest.

Rowdy's eyes fly open, and the sight of me tasting him makes him curse. "Fuck, Cotton."

He groans and his fingers knot into my hair as he guides my mouth up and down. He's still soft in my mouth, but I keep licking and sucking.

I have no idea what I'm doing, but an instinct takes over and I want to do it. I want him to feel as good as he makes me feel. I want him to fly like I fly and fall as I do.

"Harder," he says. I'm going slow, trying to build momentum, but I do as he asks, moving my mouth down to the base and pulling roughly back up.

When I try to use my hand, my pinky gets caught in one of his curls.

"Ow!" he half-yells.

Ow?

Ow!

"You felt that? Rowdy, you felt that!" I keep my voice low but it's an excited muffle.

"I … I…" Rowdy looks confused so I pull on another hair. "Shit! I feel it! I feel it!"

I want to make sure, so this time I jerk one out.

It's just like picking flowers out of the ground. Pluck, pluck, pluck.

"Will you stop that?" he hisses, but he's grinning so widely I don't think he cares.

I put my mouth on him again, watching his eyes, but he doesn't respond. I suck really hard this time and he says blasphemous words. His leg jerks underneath me and it's the first thing in his lower body he's felt in weeks.

The first time I met Rowdy, I called him dirty. This time, it's me; the things I'm doing can't be undone. This type of filthy sin can't be washed away.

I don't want them to.

Rowdy's hips buck underneath me and he groans as he hardens in my mouth. The sounds of my sucking fill the air until Rowdy pushes me away. "What's wrong?"

My heart pounds in my chest and I wonder what I've done to make him want me to stop.

"Nothing," he pants. "I just want all of you."

I grip his shoulders and he pulls me upward, shimmying my panties down along the way. We're skin against skin, a pounding throb against my heated center. Rowdy takes my soul to places it should never go. He doesn't care that my lips were just on him as he attacks me with kisses, his tongue wrapping around mine.

His teeth drag down my jaw and across my neck. He's delicate and rough, gentle and wildly needy. Rowdy puts his hand between us, grabbing himself and rubbing between my folds.

Inside, I'm cursing words no Baptist should ever even think.

"Do you feel my cock in your pussy, baby?"

I swallow, too consumed to say anything. Doesn't he realize he's breaking me? Doesn't he feel the desperation coming off of me in waves?

I'm not ready for this. I–I can't.

Rowdy notices my apprehension. "I won't hurt you, Cottonseed. Trust me. We ain't doing that here, not now. I promise."

I choke out the word "okay" because that's all I can manage. His fingers dig into the flesh on my hips as he moves me directly on top of him. My back arches into a curve and he rocks me back and forth on him. In the dim light, wetness glistens on his skin.

He's not even all the way in me and yet I'm full.

He pulls me towards him, until I hover and we breathe each other's air. He won't let me break eye contact. He holds me steady with love that doesn't descend and adoration that won't fall.

My breasts rub against his chest as he bites my bottom lip. "I was depressed, baby. They told me I couldn't walk. But you're making me move."

He angles his hips and thrusts against me. Rowdy clutches my bottom, both of my cheeks filling his large hands. "They said my nerves were damaged. You're making me tremble."

It's overwhelming, pressure-building, needle-piercing agony. My voice catches in my throat, caught between saying nothing and screaming into the night. I glide back and forth, balancing between Heaven and Hell.

I choose the latter.

"They said I'd be reduced to nothin'…" His southern accent is broken with drifted confessions and shattering admissions. I whimper as he pull-pushes me faster, pressing until I no longer remember my name.

"I don't believe 'em, baby…"An undeniable pleasure rips through me and I fight to hold my cries inward. Rowdy squeezes his eyelids shut as he groans, joining me in a place where fire consumes us both. I can't breathe, yet I moan and I shake. Rowdy's voice falters and he blinks as if his vision is blurred.

I'm blinded too, but only because of him.

"'Cause with you … I feel everything."

.

.

.

He cleans us both with his abandoned shirt and then reaches for a cigarette. He lights it up as I sit next to him, knotting my hair into a messy bun. "Don't leave."

I struggle to put my clothes back on in the dim light. "I'm not."

On the outside, Rowdy has a smart mouth and a too-cool-for-school aura about him. On the inside, he's insecure, waiting for me to abandon him at a moment's notice.

The smoke lingers in the air as I scoot beside him, pulling the blanket over the top of me. I shift and when my knee jabs Rowdy's thigh, he doesn't say anything.

He doesn't even know it.

I sigh. The universe likes giving me hope and then ripping it away from me again. I wonder how much more I will be able to take before my willpower is gone too.

"Rowdy?"

"Hmm?" He absentmindedly tickles my back, creating swirling patterns that make me shiver all over.

"You said in the hospital you didn't know why you were the one sick. That out of all the people in the world, why do you have to be the one to suffer? Do you still ask yourself that?"

I need to know if he's struggling and balling up resentment on the inside. I need to know if it's going to come pouring out when I least expect it, when the night isn't dark and all this lust isn't sparking between us.

"Naw." Rowdy shakes his head and gazes into my eyes like I'm his sunshine on a rainy day. "See, I figure it like this: God don't want me moving for a reason. It won't be forever, but I reckon He stopped some of my muscles so another one could be stronger."

"Another one?" I question. I don't understand what he's talking about.

"My heart, Cottonseed."

Rowdy leans over and tucks a curl behind my ear. "I can't walk, baby, but that's not important. God told me He'd carry me. I won't meant to do nothin' else but love you."