Hold Fast (13 page)

A
s usual
, I wake up at dawn, and I want to scream with joy when I realize it’s not all been a dream. I’m not in my shack. I’m not in the dormitory… I’m in a cabin in the middle of nowhere and in Sean’s arms.

Oh God! I’m in Sean’s arms and my father is alive!

I wanted to call my dad yesterday, right away, but there’s no signal here. Sean said if I really wanted, we could drive around today until we found a place where we could call home, but that our parents will be safer if they don’t know anything yet. Even after so many years, though, if it’s safer for us, I can wait just a few more days.

I watch Sean sleep. His handsome features are relaxed, he’s peaceful now. I shudder remembering the tortured mask he wore earlier. I could almost feel his pain as he ground his teeth and fought his demons. For a moment, I thought he would never wake up.

He was so worried about my demons yesterday, and he doesn’t want to spend the time to handle his own. He doesn’t want to lay any more burden on me. He’d probably just shrug it off, saying his pain is just a part of who he is. It’s something that’s just
there
. After all, that’s what I say about my own pain, about the horrors in my memory. And again, just like all those years ago, Sean’s arms had bled away my tears. Last night, I hope I was able to give back even the tenth part of the comfort and caring he gave me.

Yes, I’ll let him sleep. He needs the rest and I want to savor this moment.

How many times I have dreamed about walking up next to Sean? More times than I can count. I snuggle against him, bury my head in his chest and breathe him in. He smells like home. He smells like safety. He smells like happiness.

I’m almost asleep again when he stirs. His embrace loosens and I take advantage of this to roll away and slide out from under the covers. I shiver as I sit up. An August afternoon in Maine might make it into the nineties, but the early mornings are still cold. It’s chilly outside our sleeping bags but I’m parched and famished, and I could
really
use a bathroom.

In a corner of the room, I find a case of water bottles and something that looks like candy bars, but have a gritty texture and an odd, metallic flavor that makes me stop and take a second look at the packaging. Expiration date: June 2035. Huh. Tastes odd, but I’d rather eat these for the rest of my life than ever see another bowl of Sister Joanna’s disgustingly lumpy gray porridge for breakfast!

When I come out of the bathroom, Sean’s eyes are open and he smiles at me. I rush back into bed. My feet are frozen. I should have kept my socks on.

“My turn,” Sean says as he sits up. “I’m counting on you to keep the bed warm.”

“You bet,” I say, smiling up at him as I curl up in a ball on his side before it cools down. The bed.
Our
bed. Those two words float around in my mind like two bright helium balloons.

When he returns, I have indeed kept our nest warm, and Sean slides back in next to me. His toes are as frozen as mine were a few minutes ago, and I wail in laughing protest as he puts those blocks of ice on my calves.

Sean opens his arms to me and I roll into them as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He hugs me and asks, “So what do you want to do on your first day of freedom?”

“I’m not sure.” Actually that’s not true: I know
precisely
what I want to do. Might as well just tell him. “What would you say about just staying
here
today?”

“You wanna spend the day in bed?” he asks ruffling my hair gently. His eyes are merry, but the scar on his jaw turns his smile into a smirk.

“I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do,” I confess. Yes, Sean, I know exactly what I just said.

“Hah! You need to be careful saying things like that to a guy like me.” Okay, so maybe the smirk wasn’t
just
the scar.

“You know what I meant,” I laugh, slapping him gently on the chest. “What about you?” I hope you do know what I meant. What will you do about it?

“Sounds good to me.” Despite the positive answer, I sense reluctance. I look up at him, my hand flat against his chest. When our eyes meet, I feel his heartbeat speed up under the thin, well-worn tee shirt.

“You still haven’t learned how to lie properly,” I say.

He acquiesces with a smile.

“So. Tell me what you’d rather do.” I ask, then laugh as his smirk comes back. “
Besides
that!” But now I’ve got him thinking about
that
too, and we
are
still in bed, after all.

He looks away and shakes his head. “Actually there’s nothing I’d rather do than spend the day with you like this--” He pauses and I sense a
but
coming. “But there are a few things we need to do today.”

I hate that I’m right.

“Like what?” I ask.

“Well, for one, we need to get you new clothes.” Sean does have a point. I ran away empty handed so I do need new clothes. Something clean to change into and moreover, something that’s not threadbare, faded, and so out of date that it makes the Amish look like fashionistas.

“You’re right.” I nod and regretfully try to pull away, to sit up and give Sean space to get up again.

Holding me tightly, he whispers, “But that could wait for a while. If you want.”

I laugh and rest my head on his chest again. One of his hands rubs my back and I purr like a kitten. His arms around me have only offered comfort, strength, and support, but his pulse races every time our eyes meet, his breath catches every time I touch him. I’ve wanted this, wanted
him
, for so long. I can tell he wants me too, but he’s hiding it behind that polite, respectful mask. How long has that been there?

The sweet warmth I felt on waking in his arms is changing, morphing into something different. Something new, yet as old as time itself. Something I haven’t felt since he left me, all those years ago.

Under his touch, my flesh heats. The sweetest burn, taking my breath as fuel. Our hearts beat in unison. Under the palm of my hand, I feel his, steady and strong, speeding up yet again as his touch gets more daring.

“Courtney,” he whispers. His voice is strained, so choked up that it’s almost frightening.

I lift my head and see a hunger in his eyes, and my own is growing to match it. He eases himself on one elbow and rolls me over to my back. The universe goes in slow motion as his face descends towards mine. My lips part in anticipation.

I’m so ready for this. I haven’t wanted anyone’s lips against mine since he left me, so long ago. How many years has it been? I don’t want to count. I don’t want to think.

I just want to feel.

Feel his minty, just-brushed breath on my face, feel his sweet lips as they brush against mine, his mouth taking possession of mine. Just
feel
, and bask in happiness.

Sean is here, he’s kissing me, he’s holding me and--
oh, God help me
--he’s setting me on fire.

I pull his tee shirt out of his pants and slide my hand under it. The barrier of our clothes has become unbearable.

I need to touch his skin. I need him to touch mine.

Sean’s urgent fumbling with the buttons of my dress matches my awkward attack on his belt. Without breaking our kiss, he abandons those absurd buttons to help me relieve him of his pants. It’s clumsy work inside the zipped-together sleeping bags, but when those are out of the way, he pulls at the hem of my dress, and I wiggle to help him slide it up my body. The bra flies away with the dress to the other side of the room with his tee shirt and my panties vanish beneath our feet.

My breath catches in my throat as he embraces me. At first I feel like we’re a study in contrasts. His body, tanned skin and brightly-colored inks and horrible scars, stands out against the flesh of my own ever so pale body. It’s been years since anything but my arms and face were exposed to the sun. My soft skin molds against his firm muscles. But then I realize there’s one thing we have in common. Scars.

He can’t see mine, not yet, but all I see are his. My fingers trace their contour, I put my lips to the traces war has left on him and it’s his turn to purr, but the sound deepens into a growling, predatory rumble in his chest as I explore.

The sound of it makes me bold, daring; more than I ever thought I would be. I reach out to the hardness pulsing against my thigh. The length of my hand delicately lands on steel covered in velvet and he hisses.

“Did I hurt you?” I ask.

He chuckles and whispers, “It’s the sweetest kind of torture.”

“You’ll have to show me--” I can’t finish my sentence. How do I ask? The words won’t pass my lips. Can a woman tell a man that she wants to learn how to please him? I’ve been locked up in my warped world for so long, walking on eggshells that I struggle to revive my spontaneity. It’s been systematically beaten out of me. “I’ve never-- I mean, I don’t know what to do.”

“Hush, Courtney,” he says cutting me off. “We’ll figure it out.”

Sean’s finger under my chin tilts my face up and we kiss again. He nibbles on my lips. We roll over until we fall off the inflatable bed, conjuring up memories of long ago happy times when we wrestled for the remote control on his parents’ couch. We were so young then, so innocent. A lifetime away.

We untangle ourselves from the sleeping bags and climb back on the mattress. Somehow, I find myself flat on my back, Sean kneeling between my legs and looking at me with hooded eyes. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life.” My answer is adamant.

“Then close your eyes and let me take care of you.” I blink a few times and obey, shivering with anticipation behind my eyelids. The seconds tick away and the only sound in the room is our labored breathing. I feel him shifting to the side. Goose bumps rise on my arms, all my senses reaching out with new sensitivity, desperate for information denied by my closed eyes.

He leans over and wet lips latch on to my nipple. Oh. My. God. The sensation is too much! I can’t breathe. My entire body tenses when he moves from one breast to the other and then peppers slow kisses down my tummy.

He spreads my legs and gasps at the sight of my thigh, at the tire tread scar, at the pockmarks where gravel had been ground in. The bent place, where the bones were broken and never properly set to heal straight.

Well, now he’s seen my scars.

“It’s nothing,” I lie as I lift myself on my elbows to look at him.

Sean presses his lips gently against the marks of my long-ago lesson, then looks up at me.

“I didn’t tell you to open your eyes,” he scolds, and his growl sends a shiver through me, and the heat and anticipation in his eyes start a storm of flutters low in my belly.

I lay back and close my eyes obediently. I’m rewarded with the most extraordinary tingle as Sean’s lips and tongue touch me. The tingle grows in intensity as his fingers explore parts of my body that only I have touched before. I bite my lower lip and whimper. My world tumbles. Sean makes it spin around on its axis.

Yesterday I was in hell; today I’ve reached the gates of heaven itself.

My hips take on a life of their own, lifting from the bed as the intensity of his kisses and caresses increases. Never have I felt anything like this. A few times, I think I’ve reached the peak but no—he takes me higher still with each touch of his lips, his tongue.

The sensations are all so new, so intense. With my eyes closed, my world is just a swirling mass of color and feeling and -
Oh, God -
it’s incredible. Sean’s tongue lashes hard over me, and every muscle in my abdomen clenches each time he touches my clitoris. Now there’s something inside me! A finger?

I’m riding a tidal wave and terrified. I want the ride to last forever but I also need it to end soon or I will shatter into thousands of pieces. I want to cry for help, but am at a loss for words, calling out Sean’s name over and over like a mantra until I can’t speak anymore. The colors explode under my eyelids and I weep with joy.

Sean scoots up the bed and rests on his side next to me. I snuggle against him as he pulls the sleeping bags over us.

“That was--” I whisper into his chest, panting. “Wow. Just, wow.”

He chuckles and I can hear the pride in his voice when he says, “You ain’t seen
nothin’
yet.” Since he’s never been one to brag, I resist the urge to tease him. If
that
was nothing, I’ll surely die of exhaustion and bliss before the day ends. But what a way to go!

“You
did
tell me to keep my eyes closed,” I say.

Sean’s hand on the small of my back has grown restless: apparently he thinks I’ve had enough time to catch my breath. He caresses slowly over the curve of my butt, and I press back against him, sighing happily at the touch.

His hand glides softly up over my hip, along the soft curve of my waist before he drags fingernails lightly up my side. I shiver when the nails graze the lower slope of my breast, and gasp when he tweaks one hardened nipple. My head rests against his broad chest, and it’s not much of a reach for me to quickly nip at one of his in return.

“Oh, ho! Feeling frisky, are you?” Sean laughs, and suddenly I’m on my back, and he’s on top of me. His movement was so quick, so fluid, I didn’t realize it was happening until it was over. He stretches my arms above my head, crossed and pinned at the wrist with one of his strong hands. One of his feet is between my ankles, but he’s left my legs together. “You’ve had enough of a breather, then?”

He has me thoroughly controlled. My hands are locked down, and he could force my legs open in a heartbeat. There’s no way I could break free without his permission, his choice to allow it. In any other situation, with any other man, this would be a nightmare.

Here and now? With Sean? It’s a dream come true.

“Yes,” I say, spreading my feet and pulling my knees back. Opening to him, hiding nothing. Sharing everything.

Still restraining both my wrists tightly with one big hand, Sean reaches over to the emergency pack where I’d found the energy bar earlier, and comes back holding a foil packet. He tears it open with his teeth, and unrolls the condom over his shaft.