We lie there for a long time in peaceful silence. Every moment, I drink in the feel of her in my arms, the knowledge that I have her again, not just her body, but her mind and heart. I could almost imagine, as I close my eyes, nestling my face against her curls, that the past three years never happened. That we’re back in senior year, the world shining with possibilities. Finally, I feel whole again.
But then the thought worms itself into my mind that this time, I need to ask questions. This time, I need to know.
I can’t be content anymore just to have her. If I don’t understand, I can’t keep her safe, and I’m not naive enough to believe the danger is gone.
So at last, I break the peaceful silence to ask, “Where are we?”
“Oregon,” she murmurs. “Logan brought us here. You’ve been out this whole time.”
“Have I?” I echo, wondering what the hellthis whole timemeans. An hour? Two? But you can’t get to Oregon in two hours, can you?
“Two days,” she answers my unuttered question, her voice muffled in my chest.
My body tenses. “Two… two days? How is that possible?”
She turns so her cheek is against my chest, and her fingers draw shapes against my skin. “You were out for a long time, Quill. I was so scared.”
It’s all wrong. She shouldn’t be scared because of me. At least,not in that way.
Something stirs in the pit of my stomach, thinking of a different sort of fear that I wouldn’t mind seeing in her eyes again. The kind that tells me she’s mine to do with as I please. The kind that tells me I control her. The kind that tells me she likes it.
She squirms in my lap, maybe feeling something of what I do.
No. We’re not teenagers anymore, and hormones have to come after the asking questions part. We’ll get to this stuff later. Much later. First, I need to make sure she’s safe. Then, that she’s not too badly injured. Then… well, we’ll see.
Clearly, she doesn’t feel the same way, because her bottom is still squirming in my lap, and the blush making her bruised face even splotchier makes it pretty hard not to act on my urge.
I still her with a hand to her thigh, and she clicks her tongue in annoyance.
“We’re not ready,” I whisper.
“Oh.” She bites her lower lip, and a surge of emotions flickers through her eyes. I realize I’ve hurt her again. Not awake one minute and I’ve hurt her again.
“I’m sorry, Quill,” she breathes. “You’re injured. And I guess you’re… you’re angry. I left you, and everything that happened is my fault. I have a lot of apologizing to do.” She swallows, more tears bubbling up in her eyes. “Is it going to be okay, Quill? Are we going to be ready one day? Did I mess everything up?”
I open my mouth several times during her monologue, unable to get a word out. This is how it always is. Emotion makes her speak, and it makes me quiet. She’s unraveling fast, her mind jumping to all the wrong conclusions, and I’m powerless to stop it.
“No.” I push the word out, and she pauses. Her heart beats fast against mine, as I search for the words to explain. To tell her. To make her see. “You did nothing wrong. I’m the one whohurt you. I’m the one who needs to spend the rest of my life apologizing.” I swallow thickly, trying to get the rest out. “I need to understand the danger we might still be in. I need to know you’re not in pain. Then we’ll be ready.”
She lets out a low, shuddering breath, her body relaxing once more in mine. “I’m not in pain,” she breathes out at last. “Not really. I’m sorry, Quill.”
I let her have the last sorry, because I have a feeling otherwise we’re going to enter into an endless cycle of apologies, and that won’t achieve a thing.
Instead, I say, “I have a question.”
She pushes her head back at that, regarding me in surprise. “You do?”
“I do.” I flatten my lips in a tight smile. “You weren’t expecting that, were you?”
“Nope,” she giggles.
I repress the urge to squeeze her to me, knowing that no matter what she’s saying, she must still be in some pain.
“You’re going to have to get used to it, cricket,” I say instead. “I’m gonna be asking a whole lot of questions from now on. You won’t have the monopoly on speaking anymore.”
“You just try and beat me,” she grins, and then nestles right back against me happily.
This time, she probably doesn’t mean to press against my cock, but her bottom does happen to be right against it, and I shift uncomfortably.