Hell Has A New Name

30

Amber had made herself comfortable on the second hand couch Juice had in the apartment. The silence around them was tense but there was no where else in the giant loft apartment to hide. She just stayed inside her thoughts, wondering if any of this was worth the trouble. She tensed a little as he closed the computer again, watching as he rested his head on the counter top in obvious frustration. He took a long deep breath before sitting back up right again.

"Amber." He spoke quietly turning on his stool to face her. "I know you're awake. Can we please talk?"
She sat up on the couch and looked at him.

"What's there to talk about Micheal? You can't say it won't happen again, because it will. You need to seek counseling. What you've got going on is some serious  PDSD and paranoia. I can't fix that."

He sighed. "I know. I don't need you to fix me. I'm not good on my own, I'm not good with people anymore either. All I can do is apologize. Tell you I don't want you to leave. I also understand if you do. I'm turning into the definition of an abusive asshole."

He walked slowly over to the couch, sitting beside her.
"I don't believe you're an abusive person. You're a person whose been severely abused, you're responding the only way you know how. I'm not afraid of you, I'm afraid for you. I feel like Jack on the Titanic. You know, when the girl is about to jump." She laughed a little, pushing her hair behind her ears.

"You're too involved now?" They both laughed quietly, mostly at the fact that he got the reference.
"You know, he dies in that movie?" He raised his brows at her, a smirk on his face.

"You know you're the girl in this movie right?"

Juice felt his face flush a little, he was checking all the boxes. The air between them was calmer, more friendly that a few moments earlier.

"You want to draw me like one of your French girls? Is that what you're saying?" He teased, giggling when her cheeks heated up.

"I just don't want you to jump, and I don't want to freeze to death trying to save you. I need to know that we can help each other." She was serious, holding his gaze, the palm of her hand resting on his cheek.

"Then don't let me go. I won't let you go either." He knew it was cheesy as he said it. It wasn't even intentional, he didn't realize that he was basically paraphrasing the movie until the words came out of his mouth. The tension in the room had shifted, no longer playful or stressful, it was warmer than before, heavy. He wasn't sure when it happened, but their faces were only millimeters apart, he could feel her breath against him.

"Stop talking." She grinned, he couldn't see it, he could feel it against his skin. Her smile only began to fade into a puckered kiss as their lips met. They remained closed for a moment, as if they were each contemplating what was happening.  Her tongue swiftly made a light swipe over his bottom lip, and he melted into it.

A raw passion ran through his veins, a heat he hadn't felt in a long time. He pulled her body close to his, embracing her, his hands squeezing at her waistline. Her arms slipped around his neck, comfortably, familiarly, as if they'd been lovers. Gently she shifted, pulling herself up onto his lap, his hands finding their way under her shirt.

The warmth of her skin felt good to his cold hands. He raked his nails gently over her back, careful not to make any assumptions. He resisted the urge to unhook her bra, leaving it for the moment. Their lips only parted for a moment, a soft kiss pecking against his lips. As the kiss began to slow, their foreheads pressed together as they searched each other's eyes.

Sweet kisses continued to pepper their lips, and jaw lines, his lips met her neck, making their way to her collar bone. He felt alive, electricity coursing throughout his body, he felt a need deep in his gut yet he knew his cock wasn't responding. He tried to keep his head in the moment, not worry about himself, if she wanted this he could do so many other things for her. His worry about her thinking she wasn't doing it for him was starting to make his head spin out of control. He gripped her waist a little harder and pulled them down into a laying position on the couch.