TimeLess (Time Tells, #2) (ON-GOING)

Chapter Five

My worries that his fears and my own may interfere in the progress we were making, dissipate like mist. He's open about his struggle.

He sat with me the whole night, speaking to me that whatever it was that worried him had some triggers. And certain triggers were harder than others to deal with. Closer to the fears that held him so close in their grasp.

"What did I do?" I ask, "What was the trigger?"

It took him a whole moment to answer, his jaw clenching, his eyes hardening. I wait patiently, while he control his impulsive reaction. When he relaxes, I drag my fingers along his jaw.

"Later," I say, "You don't have to talk about it now."

He nods slowly.

"Kissing is alright?" I asked.

He nods once more.

I smile slowly, "We can do a lot of that." I murmur. "I've got months to make up for."

With that I had crooked my finger at him, sliding backward into the bed. His eyes had heated as he'd followed me.

It's some time later, that he whispered in my ear.

"Kissing is okay. Now." He says, "I don't know if tomorrow what I feel will spill into—"

I capture his face between my hands, "Then we'll face tomorrow as it comes."

But his fears don't spill into anything else. It remains strictly to physical intimacy in the bedroom. I realise that once clothes start coming off, he freezes. So, I began to get inventive.

Sometimes the strangeness of a place helps. A place that doesn't remind him of what happened that night. Like the kitchen. Or his office.

But I didn't cross a limit and he trusted me to not toe the line. For now, that was enough.

We stood in the living space, my back to his front. One of his hands were pressed to my abdomen and the other was at his side as he swayed us to soft music. One of my hands were on his, where it was pressed against me and the other was curved back around his neck.

I lean my head back against his shoulder, humming along to the song that was playing.

His head drops, his lips forming a warm suction against my neck. I jerk against him before closing my eyes and surrendering to the pull of my heart and body.

When he lifts his head, I turn, drawing his lips against mine.

We were playing a dangerous game, because tonight both of us were not in the space to stop. Usually, organically so, one of us indulges, while the other takes the responsibility to hold the line. Tonight, both of our will to take control was lying in shatters around us.

It takes me several moments to pull away, pressing my eyes closed.

"We need to stop." I say.

Turning me around with hands on my hips, he murmurs against my lips.

"But I don't want to."

I drop my head back and surrender, the soft but urgent need to be with him building at the back of my mind, breaking at the already shattering gates of control I was trying to raise.

His hand drops at the bottom of my spine, pressing me further into him. My lips part under his in a shocked gasp. I squeeze my eyes shut, but he wasn't loosening his hold.

"Sir, Ma'am, the annual meet begins in another hour. You need to get ready."

I place one palm on his chest and push. It takes him a moment to realise what I was doing. When he does, his palms open, releasing me. I take a step back, my palm holding him away from me at arm's length.