CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jasmeen
Gavin had been in bed all day.
I checked on him periodically. He felt cold and distant, and I didn’t think he wanted the company. The flat-screen mounted on the wall was tapped into a streaming service—he’d freaked when I turned on the TV—and movie after movie played, but I didn’t think he was watching them.
The bad part was, I didn’t blame him. He must be in hell. I decided to give him some space until he no longer needed it. Now that he’d apologized, things between us didn’t feel so strained. They still felt impossible, but the brutal wedge between us had given us some slack to work with.
I didn’t want to be his friend, but what other choice did I have? My heart wanted him somehow, someway. My brain wanted nothing to do with the man. My body, well, my body ached for every inch of him. I was torn three different ways, between common sense, desire, and heartache.
Not wanting to delve too deeply into my own thoughts any longer, I went to check on him. Roaming the mansion on my own was starting to give my mind and body the time it wanted to torture me.
I slipped into our bedroom to find him gazing blankly at Forest Gump. When I helped him into bed, I’d propped his leg and arm up on pillows. He’d kicked and shoved them both aside. The darkness in his pain hurt to watch. I wanted to take it all away, but instead I could only watch.
“Are you hungry?” I asked quietly, touching the big toe on his left foot. I trailed my fingers over his instep. “You’re losing a lot of weight. You can’t model if you’re skin and bones.”
He moved his foot away.
“Gavin, come on. You at least need to eat.”
He blinked.
I went around to his side and sat, bending to put our faces close. He didn’t move, and his eyes were glassy, like he was more in his head than he was in that bed. Like he was screaming for help and no one heard him.
I brought his head to my chest, more for me than for him. I wanted to hold him, tear him from his nightmare. Putting my mouth over his ear, I whispered his name. His free hand tried to push me off, but I gripped him tighter, pressing a kiss to his earlobe. “Talk to me.”
“Jas.” He tried to shake me off.
I kissed his temple. There was a time when his wellbeing was my only focus. Maybe that’s why it was so hard without him. Gavin had a way of sucking outside forces into his gravitational pool. When he was around me, there was nothing else to focus on. Nothing at all but him.
“You’re worrying me.” I kissed down his sideburn and then to his jaw. He smelled like the body wash I’d doused him in yesterday and sweat. It was so mouthwatering, I let my teeth nip at his jaw.
He started to come alive. A groan rumbled from his chest and his hand paused trying to push me off. So I let my tongue out to trace the hard ridge of his jawbone; his stubble was rough on my smooth, wet tongue. I kissed him there, wanting so badly to taste his lips again.
I couldn’t go there. Not right now. One taste of his tongue, and my addiction would flare. Friends would become lovers, and I’d fall so hard for the man who wanted me as he crashed.
He was depressed, maybe even feeling guilty. Who’s to say that Gavin meant what he was saying? Who could promise that he wouldn’t break my heart again?
A heart that still lay in pieces.
I pulled back and put my hand on his face, stroking his cheek. His pretty brown eyes burned into mine. He looked lost and found. I could either pull him closer, or leave him adrift in his nightmare. I couldn’t stand the sight of him in pain. I pressed my forehead to his, his warm breath fanning across my lips.
“Don’t,” I begged, but it was too late.
His lips touched mine.
And I knew reason again.
He didn’t move, and I didn’t move. I melted. I was twelve again, and we were both sticky with blueberry lip gloss. I moved my lips first, moaning from so deep inside my heart, I felt it tear through my throat.
And that was fine. I could have walked away.
But then he moaned too. And it was from a place just as deep.
A place just as hungry.
A place just as empty.
I threw myself into that kiss, making love to his mouth so frantically, I found myself straddling his lap before I knew what hit me. I waited for him to tell me to get off. But his cast was above his knee, there was so much room between his crotch and his cast, and his arm lay where it lay. His free hand moved down to grab a large handful of my ass, urging me against the bulge in his briefs. I brought my core over him, and nestled against his hardness.
We both moaned again, starving from the bottom of our empty souls. I clutched his face and stroked his tongue with mine. Devouring his taste, losing my mind, coming apart at the seams. I couldn’t think, didn’t think I ever wanted to again.
I was an addict with the needle in my vein, and I was so high, the clouds gazed up at me in wonder.