Regrets

Chapter Sixteen

Vincent didn't come back last night. We still have today and some of tomorrow morning till its time to leave. I'm laying on the couch in a robe with the fireplace on. I haven't slept. I feel horrible, like our fight last night was my fault. It's five in the morning and I'm scared to death Vincent left.

I feel like he's not coming back.

I relapsed slightly. I found a safety pin in one of the drawers and a lighter by the fire place. I heated it up and burned my wrist six times for what I last said to him, "maybe we're not doing this right."

I don't think I've lost him, but I feel like I have. And it's the worst feeling ever. I want to hide in a hole until Vincent gets back - if he gets back - and pulls me into one of his warm embraces. He's the only one besides Colton that could make me feel okay.

The hotel door opens and I stand up unsteadily.

"Vincent? Baby?" I call.

Vincent comes in with his hair more shaggy than usual and his five o'clock shadow darker. He's so sexy, with his shirt off and his boxers showing every so slightly. The bags under his eyes indicate he hasn't slept at all either.

I walk towards him and he meets me halfway.

"I'm so sorry. Please don't leave me." I cry, actually letting a tear fall. He wipes it way and puts his forehead against mine.

"Never." His eyes close and he smiles, caressing my cheek.

He grabs my wrist tightly, the one i burned, I swear he's psychic.

"Did you do this because of me?" His voice cracks and he seems close to tears, staring at my blistered wrist.

"I... I..." I don't know what to say, thats what.

He closes his eyes tightly and tears roll down his cheek. He sobs slightly and I wrap my arms around his neck, his around my waist, his head in my neck.

Small sobs rack his body and I know I hurt him, more than he'd ever hurt me.

"I'm sorry. Don't blame yourself, please." I say, intertwining my hands in his hair.

"I'm so sorry. I wish I could take it back." He chokes out through sobs.

I pull back and kiss him firmly, his cheeks wet with tears, I wipe them away with my sleeve and then kiss him even more. Much like the kiss last night, passionate. Less urgent. Like kissing is our only intention. But apparently lifting me up and pinning me against a wall was also in the gist of it. He kisses my neck and I rub his back slowly. He pulls away and looks at me, his eyes red, and his cheeks still a bit wet.

"I don't want you to hurt." He bites his lip hard.

I stare at his lips wanting them to be pressed against mine. I don't think I've wanted him this bad since the first week or so we were dating.

"If you keep biting that lip, I'm going to have to kiss it." I smirk, not taking my eyes off his mouth. He doesn't stop biting it, instead the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile and I laugh before playfully stealing a kiss.

And that's where we pick up where we left off last night before the fight. But this time it was different. It wasn't just sex. It was amazing. It wasn't rough and rowdy like it usually is to annoy James, it was sweet and no doubt enjoyable.

As we lay in bed, cuddling, I trace Vincent's tattoos he has on his chest while he runs his hands through my hair. This moment is perfect.

"I love you." I whisper, looking up at him.

He smiles that gorgeous smile that I got attracted to in the first place, but doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to. I know what he's thinking as he lays there playing with strands of my hair, allowing me to follow the lines of the work of art permanently on his chest.