𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧.✓ completed

Untitled Part 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

Willow

I can't believe this is happening. Okay, maybe I can. Deep down, I think I might have known all along that a piece of paper couldn't stop where Beck and I were heading. I was just procrastinating the inevitable. I could've fought this longer ... Maybe. But when he said all those things—those wonderful things that made my heart pound in my chest and made that crack in my heart heal a little—I didn't want to fight it anymore. I wanted to have him. I needed to have him. The need scared me because wanting and needing are two different things. Wanting, you can live without. Needing is like air. You can't live without it.

I don't want to live a life without Beck.

I want him.

I want to feel safe.

Safe.

Safe.

Safe.

That thought races through my mind over and over again as he kisses me passionately with our chests pressed together. His fingers are inside me, pushing me to that starry place again. I've lost all control, and I don't know what to do about that except enjoy this moment. When it's over, then I'll focus on the next. And so on and so on. Sure, the uncertainty of my life scares the shit out of me, but knowing I'm not alone makes it a bit easier. I don't just have Beck. I have my friends.

I'm not alone.

People care for me.

And I care about them.

I care about Beck.

I care about him so much.

More. Than. Anything.

My pulse speeds up at the thought, but I fight back the panic and focus on those stars again. Those wonderful, blissful, goddamn amazing stars.

His fingers start to slow as I return to reality, his lips leisurely moving against mine as if we have all the time in the world. When his lips finally break away, he touches his forehead to mine with his eyes shut.

"Are you okay?" he whispers.

I trace a path up and down his spine. "I'm perfect."

His lips twitch into a smile. "It's nice you finally realize that."

Shaking my head, I lightly pinch his side. He doesn't even flinch. I do the movement again, doing a little tickling, and he remains unfazed.

"Try all you want," he says with a cocky grin, "but you won't get me."

"Wanna bet?" I ask with my brow arched.

He sits back with his hands out to his sides. "Go ahead and try."

"Fine. I will." Grinning, I sit up, push him down to the mattress, and straddle his waist. Then I tickle him everywhere. Well, almost everywhere.

He stares up at me with his hands tucked under his head and a lazy grin on his face. "You missed one spot."

He doesn't think I'll do it. I don't really want to do it ... well, sort of. Okay, I kind of do. I'm just feeling a little shy about it.

I sit back, staring down at him. "You don't think I'll do it?"

He chuckles, grinning smugly. "No, I don't, but the determined look in your eyes is really fucking adorable."

I think about all those times he tickled me, especially the time he made me almost pee my pants, and suddenly, I really want to prove him wrong. I don't know what

pushes me to go through with it, whether all the kissing has made me lose my sanity, or maybe Beck just makes me feel comfortable enough to do it. Somehow, though, I find enough courage to slip my hands down his pants.

"Fuuuccck." He lets out a groan, his back arching up as my fingers touch him.

Definitely not a ticklish reaction, but I repeat the movement, anyway. He moans again then reaches up and draws my lips to his. I keep touching him as his tongue delves between my lips and explores my mouth until he moans out my name, until he loses complete control, his eyes shut, his hands gripping my hips.

"That's not very fair," I say, removing my hand from his jeans. "I think you enjoyed that way too much when I wanted to get you back for all those times you tickled me."

He chuckles, sounding exhausted but content. "You want me to show you the secret spot?"

"I tried everywhere." I pout.

"Not everywhere."

When my brows lower in confusion, he sits up, slides me off his lap, then leans over to unlace his boot. After he gets it off, he removes his sock, grabs my hand, and sketches my fingers up and down the bottom of his foot. Then he lets out the girliest giggle I've ever heard. I trace my fingers up the arch of his foot again and again until he begs for mercy.

After we're done messing around, he changes into his pajamas while I put on one of his shirts. Then we lie down in his bed together with his arms around me, our legs tangled.

Safe.

Safe.

Safe.

I keep reminding myself of this as my thoughts try to drift to my future. To my past. To the now. All of which Beck knows about.

He knows me and didn't run. He saw the ugly and still wants it.

I thought I lost him, and while it hurt, I still picked myself up.

Everything will be okay.

Once step at a time. Don't panic.

"Just breathe, princess," he whispers, his lips brushing the top of my head. "Everything's going to be fine."

"I feel like I need to get up and do something," I admit. "Fix the problems."

 "We will," he says. "Tomorrow."

There he goes with the "we" again.

I like the sound of it.

Probably too much.

Maybe it's not so bad as long as there's still a me and him between the we.

I take a deep breath and then another. "What do we do now?"

"Now, we get some sleep," he says, pulling me closer.

I'm a little terrified to close my eyes, knowing tomorrow I'll have to face everything: moving, getting a new job, figuring out a new plan. But as I lay in his arms with him stroking his fingers up and down my back, calmness overcomes me enough that my eyes shut.

I fall asleep faster than I have in years.