Resilience

Fourteen

<Ellie>

It's been years since I've felt the touch of a kiss, but I don't remember it ever being quite like this. Kissing has always carried an awkward hesitance at the start of a relationship, but with Xavier, it's an entirely different experience. His touch is an effortless caress, so delicate and precise that it leaves me wishing for the moment to never end.

His lips meld against mine, a tantalizing balance of firmness and softness. Each time his tongue brushes against mine, then retreats, it ignites a deeper longing within me. I can only imagine that this is the essence of kissing a man rather than a boy. Xavier exudes a raw masculinity that's palpable, a result of years and countless experiences that have honed his skill. Yet, in this moment, I'm lost in the bliss of it all.

"Eleanor," he murmurs, his voice a sultry whisper that seems to wrap around my name, drawing me even closer. Somehow, we've tumbled onto the couch, his body pressed so intimately against mine that I can feel his heartbeat synchronize with my own. As his lips trail away from mine to explore my neck, he finds a spot that sends electric shivers down my spine, curling my toes in response. A phone rings faintly in the background, but as Xavier's lips graze that tender area on my neck, I gasp his name, "Xavier," feeling the curve of his smile against my skin before he returns to his gentle kisses.

"It feels so good," I whisper, writhing slightly, my fingers clutching at his hair, trying to pull him back to my lips. Yet, the persistent ring of his phone intrudes upon our bubble of desire, reminding me of the living room and that Tate is just down the hall.

"Xavier, your phone," I manage to say, nudging him softly. He lingers a moment longer, but with a little more coaxing from me, he finally lifts his lips from my neck. His green eyes meet mine, shining with an intensity that takes my breath away. He truly is the most breathtaking man.

"It can wait," he says softly, before capturing my lips in another slow, lingering kiss.

I savor the kiss, feeling its lingering warmth, before I reluctantly pull away. "I think it's gone off a few times... and I should probably get some sleep. Early morning ahead."

Confusion knots his brows as he gazes at me, and when he finally shifts off me, I instantly miss the comforting warmth of his body. He retrieves his phone, his expression growing serious as he scans the message.

Uncertain of what to do, I clear the dishes from the coffee table and head to the kitchen. Moments later, I feel his presence behind me. His large hand wraps around my waist, gently turning me towards him.

"Eleanor, what's going on in that beautiful mind of yours? Talk to me." His voice is filled with genuine concern.

I struggle to find words. Despite his kindness, my mind swirls with the vast chasm between our lives.

He's accomplished, wealthy, and has experienced things that seem worlds away from my reality—he's even been to war and saved lives. And then there's me: a single mother barely managing to hold it all together. Juggling work and this new family dynamic, I feel like a constant mess.

I offer a weary smile. "Nothing, just feeling a bit worn out," I say softly. His eyes flicker with doubt, and being this close to him, the urge to kiss him is nearly overwhelming, but I resist, stepping away from his embrace.

"Thanks for the ride today," I say, my voice a blend of gratitude and hesitation as I turn back to the dishes, trying to conceal the fluttering in my chest.

A moment later, I hear the door close softly behind him, leaving a profound silence in its wake. That night, as I lie in bed, my thoughts are consumed by the memory of our kiss. Can someone as extraordinary as him really want someone like me? The fear of being nothing more than a fleeting moment, a mere one-night stand, gnaws at me.