ೃ⁀➷ In the year 1994,
Maya Bennet travels to New York to attend a famous music festival, Woodstock. After stumbling into the wrong tent when searching for her lost boyfriend, she has an odd interaction with a handsome mysterious stranger. A year l...
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"I promise you. You're always safe with me." He whispers and his hands pull me closer, hovering his lips over mine as I feel my heart race faster. "How can I? How can I make you feel safe, little lover? Tell me. I'll make it happen."
My eyes flick up to his and that sick feeling in me vanishes as the butterflies swoop in and heal the places that desperately needed repairing. "Stay." I tell him honestly and he nods, rubbing the pad of his thumb against my cheek. "Just for awhile."
Dragging his hand down from my cheek, his fingers intertwine with mine. He takes a step back, leaving a gap between us before he carefully and blindly stumbles backward with his eyes glued to mine. "I'll stay as long as you want me to."
My head nods and when he reaches the bed he slowly sits down below me, places his hands on my hips, and he pulls me a little closer until I'm between his spread legs while he looks up at me with his head just below my chest.
Flicking my eyes back and forth between his, I feel one of his hands slip from my hip as he begins fumbling with the bottom of my shirt; his fingertips drag along the fabric, but he stares at me with innocence in his eyes. "I don't like seeing you upset." He whispers. "I want to make you feel better."
"I'm okay." I tell him but his head rocks to the side and his hands pause, giving me a look that says- I'm not stupid. "I just feel bad for those girls and their families. It's not me that should be coddled. I'm okay, really."
The intimidation of seeing him below me makes my head turn, staring at the wall to distract myself from the feeling in my chest. But Harry wrecks my plans when he reaches up, gently cups my jaw, and rocks my head back down so our eyes are connected again.
"Can I take your mind off of things? . . . I know it won't make things better. But we can call it a temporary fix." He says softly, moving his fingers against the fabric again. "I want you to feel better, feel good. Can I do that for you? Can I help you feel better, baby?"
"Harry if you're talking about . . . " I pinch my lips shut and choose not to finish my sentence, acting too nervous like some child who's scared to swear in front of their friends for the first time. "I don't know if I'm ready for that." I say honestly, feeling anxious he may get mad at me.
Intimacy has always been important to me, it was for the longest time. And I'm not one to ever judge anyone for what they do, or who they have sex with, but personally, I want it to feel special. There's a connection between me and Harry. I don't know what it is, but I feel it. So it's not the spark that's lacking, it's the confidence I lack. And I don't want to rush that.
Besides, after I started having sex with Elliot that's all we ever did. He'd come over to see me, we'd have sex, and then he'd be gone. I thought that's what you were supposed to do, but with the way Harry's treated me without us even being together, I'm starting to think I got it all wrong. But if I'm not, I don't want to lose what we have.
