THIRTEEN
It was the nightmares again. That was what was to blame. The stupid, chronic memories that she repressed during her waking hours and tormented her while she slept.
She woke up yelling, her arms being held, and she fought against the restraint.
"Hey, sweetheart, hey," Xander's voice called.
She opened her eyes immediately, looking around the dark room frantically. Xander's. She was at Xander's And Xander was standing above her, holding onto her shoulders. He had probably been trying to shake her awake. She bolted upright quickly, setting her feet on the floor, and leaning forward, resting her head against the warm skin of his stomach, just above the waistband of his pajama pants.
Xander stood there dumbly for a long second, too shocked to move. His hands slowly slid. One moved across her back, rubbing at the tension, the other to the back of her head, tangling in her long soft hair. "It's okay," he murmured, taking shallow breaths. "I'm here."
Okay. Maybe it wasn't the nightmares. It was definitely those two words that did it. I'm here. They were two words that held so much meaning: I'm here for you; I'm not leaving you; you're safe with me; nothing can hurt you when you're with me.
Yeah. That was what did it. Because it was so lovely to have someone there for you, someone who, however momentarily, cared more about your needs than their own.
She stood up slowly, her breath warming his skin as she rose to full height, her head underneath his chin. She slid her fingers up and down his ribs, making him grit his teeth against the sudden and intense arousal.
What was she trying to do to him?
Ellie tilted her head upward, looking into his face, taking in the tense jaw, the bewildered eyes. The hand in her hair tensed, turning into a fist. She went up on her tiptoes. But she was still unable to reach his mouth unless he leaned down, so she tilted her head to the side and ran a line of kisses down the side of his neck. She smiled against his skin when his breath hissed out of his mouth.
"Ellie," he said, his voice a warning. We shouldn't do this. It isn't smart.
But she was done playing it safe and doing what was smart and prudent. She wanted to wrap herself around him and feel something, experience something new.
"Just kiss me," she said, feeling her cheeks get hot at her boldness.
Xander gritted his teeth. He was trying to do the right thing, be a gentlemen, as foreign a concept as that was to him. And he really didn't have much self-restraint left. Especially if she kept kissing his neck like that. Oh, God, was that her tongue? Xander closed his eyes and mentally worked through the sevens times tables before he spoke. "You're just... worked up because you had bad dreams. Ellie..."
"Just shut up," she said, smiling up at him, her eyes rolling. What was wrong with him? She was standing there... literally asking for it. Actually, begging for it. And he was trying to talk her out of it?
"It's a bad idea," he said firmly.
"But those are the best kinds," she said, almost giggling.
Xander looked down at her then, the brightness in her shockingly blue eyes, the smile playing at her lips, and he found himself smiling back despite his better judgment. "Yeah they are," he agreed, bending down and crushing his lips into hers.
She felt the contact like a bolt shooting down her body and out through her feet, everything tingling in the aftermath. Her arms went up around his neck, pulling him down, lifting herself up, getting closer. That's all she could think. She needed him closer. She needed to throw everything of herself into him.
Xander made a low, growling sound deep in his throat, feeling her surrender like an explosion of desire deep in his center. His fingers twisted in her hair, pulling her head backward, giving him more access. He nipped at her lower lip, sinking his teeth in just short of painful. When she sighed, he moved his tongue inside, toying with hers and retreating until she made a low, pleading whimper.
His hands moved down her back, grabbing her hips and holding her tight against him as he walked toward the bed.
The backs of Ellie's knees hit the mattress, just as Xander's hands released her hips, sending her falling backward. Her stomach clenched momentarily until she fell back on the soft material, laughing up at the ceiling.
This was how it was supposed to be. Sexy, yes, but also fun, silly, real.
Xander was still standing at the side of the bed, looking down at her with some unreadable expression. She propped herself up, reaching one arm forward and grabbing the elastic band of his pajama pants, and pulling him forward. He obliged slightly, leaning his knees against the edge of the mattress.
Ellie sat up, her face level with his stomach. With a smirk, she leaned forward and ran a line of kisses across his stomach, the muscles twitching slightly under her exploration. Her fingers slipped to the waistband, starting to pull down slowly.
Xander chuckled, a low, rolling sound in his chest. His big hands went down to cover hers, stopping the motion. "Nuh-uh, doll," he said, smiling at her defiant expression. He was already half-naked. She was fully clothed. It was time to even things up. He squeezed her hands for a second and pulled them away, placing them on the mattress on the sides of her body.
His hands rested on her knees, squeezing for a second, before sliding up her thighs, moving out toward her hips and toying with the ends of her t-shirt. He watched her eyes. He needed to take it easy. His movements needed to be slow, non-threatening. If she so much as flinched, he was done. But he saw nothing in her big eyes but desire, want, need. So he grabbed the thin material, ever so slowly inching it off her body.
Her hands went up over her head, waiting for him to pull the material which suddenly felt itchy and heavy, off her body.
Xander watched as her skin revealed itself to his eyes, soft and pale. Flawless. He smiled as he threw the t-shirt on the floor. She was wearing a gray and white bra. Who the hell wore a bra to bed? He wanted to reach behind her and flick the clasps and pull the barrier away. But he needed to take his time, he reminded himself, reaching out to stroke the outer sides of her body. Her ribs looked better, the bruises healing to a reddish and yellow. He watched her face as his fingers traced the outlines. "Does this hurt?" he asked.
Ellie shook her head, her chest too heavy to finds the words. No. Nothing hurt. Everything felt good. Right. Perfect.
His fingers moved toward the center of her stomach, making her twitch and squirm away, swatting at his hands and giggling. "You're ticklish?" he asked, a little too excited-sounding at the prospect.
"Don't you dare," she warned, her eyes wide, knowing what was coming, knowing there was nothing she could to do about it.
Xander's mouth quirked up at a side, half challenge, half amusement. He was going to enjoy it. "You... dare me?" he asked, smirking wider, his fingers coming down on the area by her hipbone hollows and digging in.
Ellie squealed, her hands flying on top of his, her eyes closing, trying to breathe through it. Knowing it never worked. Xander's fingers wiggled, making her toss around on the bed, gasping for breath, listening to Xander's laugh: loud, boyish, playful. It might have been the sexiest sound she had ever heard. Even if he was in the middle of an obnoxious round of tickle torture with her midsection.
"Say uncle and it's over," he teased, brushing his fingers over her ribs.
"Never," she strangled out, tossing herself onto her stomach.
Xander scooted closer, straddling the sides of her hips, pressing down on her ass, holding her in place. His fingers pressed a little harder, more sensual than playful, rubbing across her lower back. Ellie brought her arms up, resting her face against her hands and sighing.
His fingers pressed and kneaded into her knots, brushed whispers in other areas, making her shiver and feel like she was sinking into the mattress, into the sensations. She hadn't even noticed he had unclasped her bra until she felt his fingers brushing the material toward the sides of her body, giving him full access. He worked on her shoulders for a long time, making her feel almost sleepy before she felt his weight shift, his hand brushing her hair to the side a split second before his lips rested at the base of her neck.
Her fingers dug into the blanket, moaning. His mouth moved in a straight line down the center of her back and before he had even made it halfway down, she felt herself trembling, so unaccustomed to being touched that she was overwhelmed by the contact. By the time his lips brushed the skin just above her pants, she was clutching her thighs together.
His weight lifted up off her slightly, enough for her to move, pushing herself up, the arms of her bra falling forward and she slipped her wrists out. Without him touching her, she felt the insecurity slipping in past the desire. She realized that no one had seen her naked in years. And the only person before that was Nick.
As if sensing her reservations, his hand moved to her hip, his fingers light but not tickling. Reassuring. "Look at me, baby," he said, more of a question than a demand.
Ellie took a breath, moving a hand across her chest to cover her breasts and rolling back onto her back.
Xander smiled down at her with her hand draped to cover herself. She was killing him. And he was enjoying every last second of it.
He lowered himself down on her pelvis, giving Ellie a view of him in all of his masculine glory. His dark hair mussed from sleep, the scruff on his face, desire in his eyes. His wide shoulders and chest tapered only slightly toward his waist. Everything about him was thick and solid, the muscles pressing against his skin like there wasn't enough room to hold in all the strength. Her eyes grazed over the long scar up his side, finding an odd sort of kinship and comfort in it. They both had scars. They both had pasts. And in that moment right then... none of that mattered. She let her eyes sink lower, a strange fluttering in her belly when she saw his cock pushing hard against the fabric of his pants, straining to be free.
"See something you like?" Xander asked, his voice teasing and she realized how long she had been starting at his crotch.
She looked up at him, sinking her teeth into her lower lip. "Maybe," she said, thinking her own voice sounded foreign. Was that really her speaking? Flirting?
"Hmm," Xander said, his hands going to the drawstring at the front of his pants, pulling one of the loops out. "Maybe you need a better view," he suggested, "to be objective," he finished, stretching out the waistband, holding it out wide for a second, then letting it drop.
Ellie sucked in her breath, looking at his long, thick cock, hard and heavy. Her hand reached out and Xander chuckled, swatting her hand. "Nuh-uh," he scolded, reaching forward and running his fingers over the arm covering her breasts. "I need a better view too," he said, smiling.
Ellie rolled her eyes, moving her arm across her body and letting it fall at her side.
Xander looked down at her for an excruciatingly long time. Hours, days, weeks passed in the blink of an eye. And then he was sliding downward, moving his legs onto the outsides of hers. His arms slipped up and under her shoulders and he slowly lowered his chest to hers.
"You're beautiful," he said, placing a kiss between her breasts before moving upward to capture her lips again.
She sighed into his mouth, her fingers stroking the sides of his ribs. She could feel his hardness pressing firmly into her belly and she felt her own desire match his.
But then, all of a sudden, her chest felt heavy, constricted, hard to breathe. Each time she tried to inhale, the anxiety climbed higher. A sick, rolling feeling settled in her stomach, her skin felt electric, sparking and crawling, like she was coming out of it. Xander's hands were innocently holding onto her shoulders, but his arms started to feel like a prison. She tried to pull her legs up and found them trapped beneath him. A band of fear moved to her throat, squeezing until she felt hysterical.
She needed to get away. She had to escape.
Then she struggled, moving her hands to press against his stomach, shoving despite their shaking. "Off," she said against his mouth, the sound coming out choked and airy. "Off. Get off," she tried again, her voice rising.
Xander raised his head to look at her, her eyes huge, her lips trembling. He pushed back onto his heels watching in horror as she brought a shaking hand to her throat and gasped for breath. "Ellie..." he said, his voice soft, concerned. "Hey, baby... you're alright. It's okay..."
But she wasn't listening, lost in her panic attack, her eyes wild and far away. He pulled his pants up, standing, unsure what he could do other than give her space. He watched her, curling into herself, rocking back and forth, her chest rising and falling too quickly. "What can I do?" he asked, half to himself. "Sweetheart, tell me what to do..." he said, his voice helpless, vulnerable. He reached out, tentatively, and touched her ankle.
She sprang away from him like he'd slapped her, jumping off the bed, looking around for a second, then running for the bathroom, and slamming the door.
He followed behind her, stopping outside the door, his hands on either side of the frame. He knew he couldn't barge in. She needed to calm herself down, but he felt useless standing there not doing anything. He took a breath, moving back into the apartment and putting the water for tea on.
Ellie threw herself into the bathroom, turning the water in the shower on cold. She stripped out of her pants and underwear and stepped under the stream.
Breathe. She needed to breathe. The water sent shock waves over her skin, making her gasp, pushing the crawling feeling away. Then just as suddenly as it started, she felt the fist constricting her chest start to loosen, letting her inhale, gulping at air like she'd suffocated.
When her chest felt back to normal, the tears came. Hot, unwanted, but undeniable. Her hands went to her face, trying to stifle the sound of her sobs. She slowly sank to her knees in the tub, curling forward and letting it out. Anxiety, like poison, needed to seep out of the system.
The aftermath left her feeling strangely hollow, frazzled, and burned out.
God, what must Xander think? She turned her hot face against the tile, feeling different tears fill her eyes. Embarrassment. Regret. She had just... yelled at him. She'd pushed him off. She'd ignored his attempts to help. She'd jumped away from him like he'd shocked her. And ran like a madwoman to the bathroom.
The worst part was that she had wanted him. She had really, really wanted him. She hadn't wanted to stop. But she couldn't calm herself down. She couldn't push the fears away.
And now he probably wouldn't want to come near her ever again with the way she had reacted.
She stood up slowly, turning off the water, squeezing out her hair. She opened the curtain, remembering she had forgotten to grab a towel. But then there was one hanging on the hook right outside the shower. She reached for it, scrubbing the water off her face. Then she noticed the pile of clothes sitting on the edge of the sink. One of his huge, baggy sweatshirts and a pair of her leggings. Like he thought she would want some kind of sex barrier from him. Or... maybe he wanted one from her, she thought with a sinking feeling in her chest.
Ellie dressed slowly, towel drying her hair until it wasn't dripping anymore, took a deep breath, and opened the door. She was going to have to face him. And worrying about it would probably prove worse than the actual confrontation.
She found him in the kitchen, bent forward over the counter, fiddling with something. When he heard her feet on the floor, he turned, giving a small smile, holding out a cup of tea. "Milk and sugar," he said, waiting for her to take it. "I think I got it right," he said, shuffling his feet slightly.
Ellie looked down at the cup, disbelieving for a second, before reaching it out and cradling it in her hands. "Thank you," she said, bringing it up and smelling it. Why was he so good? If he could just... be mad or yell at her. She would have been able to face that easier. "Xander," she started, her tone sad. "I'm so sorr..."
"Don't," he interrupted, his brows drawn together, "don't you dare apologize," he said. He lifted his hand slowly, showing her his open palm for a split second before moving it to the side of her face. He lifted her chin until her eyes found his. "Are you alright?" he asked. And it wasn't condescending. Or confused. He understood. And he wasn't judging her.
Ellie looked down at her tea for a second, nodding. "Yeah."
"Good," Xander said, rubbing his thumb across her jawbone. "That's all that matters."
Ellie looked up, seeing nothing but sincerity in his eyes.
And that's what did it.