Take Your Time (Fate and Circumstance #2) (23 page)

He turned his body slightly, just enough to face me more than the lake in front of us, and tilted his head to the side.

“I’m better now than I was before. I feel happier. I’m not as sad. And I can’t even tell you when the last time was that I truly lost it over my mom. I went to her house yesterday, and I was okay. I went to bed last night, and not once did I feel the need to bury my face in my pillow and let out the pain like before. I still get sad from time to time when I see or hear something, and my first thought is to tell her. But it’s different now. Because instead of losing it, or breaking down, I realize I now have someone else to call. And maybe that’s a bad thing. Maybe that just means I’ve become dependent on you instead of relying on myself. But either way, the point is, I feel better. And it’s only been two weeks. And I have
you
to thank for that.”

“If I were to leave tomorrow, what would happen to you?”

His question came out of nowhere and suffocated me, but I pushed the emotion down and thought logically in order to give him an honest answer. “If you left tomorrow, I’d be incredibly sad.”

“Because you wouldn’t have someone to talk to?”

I shook my head adamantly. “No. Because I’d miss you.”

“What about me would you miss?”

“All of you.” The answer charged right out without an ounce of hesitation. “We’ve talked before about fate, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. I have to believe that I’m doing better because of you, because I’ve had you with me to help me overcome things I wasn’t able to see on my own. And therefore, I
have
to believe that you saw me at that bar for a reason. Call it fate or circumstance—I don’t care. But you were there at a time when I needed someone the most and you seemed to be the perfect fit for what I needed. You had no pressing matters to make you go home, and you stayed—
for me
. You stayed because you wanted to help me. I still don’t understand why, but I can’t question that anymore. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is you didn’t go home. You stayed with me, and you forced me to face my shit. I truly feel better now because of it.

“But then I found out about Luke. That made me question where fate fit in to
their
situation—whether things were supposed to happen that way, or if they were somehow cheated out of their own destiny. However, even after I told my sister about the house and the ring, she told me that she was happy with her decision to marry Joel. That led me to believe that everything worked out exactly the way it was supposed to. Clari got her fate, I’m sure Luke will find his, and everything is right in the world. Which, again, makes me think you finding me when you did, knowing who I was and what I was going through…I mean, that’s gotta be fate, right?”

When Bentley didn’t come back with an immediate response, I studied him, catching the way he carefully bit his lip as if contemplating an answer. It should’ve been easy, but he didn’t seem to think so. I tried to say something else, but then his eyes settled on mine, and it made me bite my tongue, needing to hear his words more than I needed my next breath.

“We never know what’s fate and what isn’t. It’s simply a belief. But I think it’s
that
belief that keeps us going, keeps us fighting for what we want.”

“Is there some other reason why you were at that bar that night?”

He glanced down for a moment before meeting my gaze again, fear filling his downturned eyes before they softened. “I was meeting someone. I needed to see this person face to face because I had something I needed to tell her. It was my last chance, and I didn’t want to go home without getting what I needed off my chest. But then I saw your eyes. I saw how sad you were, and at that point, nothing else mattered.”

“Who were you meeting?” I didn’t want the answer, yet I wanted it
so badly
. My head and heart were at war with one another, needing to know everything, but also fearful of the truth.

“Someone who was responsible for changing my life.”

We’d never spoken of our exes, considering our relationship—or
non
-relationship—wasn’t exactly one built on romance. We had our moments of being close, we kissed and shared intimate touches, but as far as what was considered a “normal relationship,” we never really had one. We just were.

“What are we doing, Bentley?”

“What do you mean? You have me so confused here. You’re talking about fate, about my cousin, about us meeting at the bar. I’m going to need you to be a little bit clearer here, Sarah.”

The fireworks finally started, lighting up the sky over the treetops that lined the other side of the lake, but neither of us paid any attention to the display. Instead, we remained seated next to each other, never breaking our stare.

“Just say whatever it is you need to say.”

I reached out and placed my palm over his cheek, feeling the warmth of his soft skin radiate through my hand and up my arm. “I’m in love with you. I mean…I
think
I’m in love with you—I…I think I love you, Bentley.”

One second passed, then two. Then five and ten. Time went by without a single word from him. All the while my hand remained on his cheek, fear keeping it there. But the moment I went to pull away, ready to give up and run, he pressed his hand to the back of mine, preventing me from moving it.

“Say something,” I whispered, desperately demanding anything at all from him.

“Why do you
think
you love me?” His soft words matched mine, quiet and distressed, filling the air between us and overshadowing the loud pops of fireworks above.

So many answers fluttered through my mind, and I had a hard time picking one. “Because you make me want to be better. You’ve given me a reason to live, to look ahead instead of back. Because you hear me when I—”

“No.” He shook his head adamantly and then brought both hands to my face, holding me inches away from him. “You said you were in love with me, and then you changed your mind. You changed it to you
think
you love me. Knowing and thinking are two very different things when it comes to love. And being
in
love and loving someone aren’t the same. So why is it that you only
think
you love me?”

I swallowed harshly, my body shaking frantically due to the intensity of my fried nerves. “Because I’m scared of the way you’ll respond.”

“Do you love me?” he asked, holding the sides of my head tighter between his hands, his warmth filling me with comfort.

“Yes. I love you.”

“Are you
in
love with me?”

“Bentley…”

“Just answer the damn question.” His breaths came out so hard they hit my face like a strong wind, revealing just how nervous he was to hear my answer. Probably more nervous than I was to give it.

“I’ve never been in love before. I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like. But I know this is more than just regular love.”

“Then why are you so scared?”

I tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let me. His refusal to say something in response to my confession made this entire thing so difficult. Usually, when you tell someone you love them—that you’re
in love
with them—you’d like to hear it back. But he wouldn’t give me that. Instead, he shot out question after question, putting me on the spot and leaving me feeling incredibly exposed.

“I don’t even know what we’ve been doing together, Bentley. It’s like we’re friends that sleep in the same bed. We kiss and hold hands like we’re stuck back in middle school. We talk about everything deep and meaningful, except we’ve never once talked about our feelings toward one another, or what we are to each other. For all I know, you see me as a friend. Someone you feel obligated to help make whole again. And here I am, baring my soul by declaring my love for you when I have no clue how you feel about me. And to make matters worse, you keep questioning me like this is some kind of interview.”

“I
have
told you how I see you, how I feel about you. Right here on this dock.”

“Yeah, you told me you saw a sad girl.”

He shook his head, released a quiet grunt of frustration, and pressed his forehead to mine. “Is that really all you heard me say? Were you not
listening
to me? I told you that you were never supposed to mean anything to me. I was never supposed to see the real you. But I—”

“That’s comforting, Bentley. Really, it is.” I couldn’t hide the irritation in my voice. It festered in my chest and then came out in cold sarcasm. “I tell you how I feel, and you come back with
that
.”

He dropped his hold on me and sat back on his heels, studying me from a few more inches away. “That’s not what I meant. You were never supposed to be this to me. You were only supposed to be…”

“What? What was I supposed to be?”

His sigh ran through the air, ringing louder than the show of fireworks behind him and striking me painfully in the pit of my stomach. “I have to tell you something.”

Panic hit. No matter how I felt leading up to this very moment—his hesitation, his lack of emotional responses—nothing overpowered my vulnerable ego as much as hearing those words come out of his mouth. This was him, letting me down gently. Letting me know that I’d fallen in love with a man that didn’t care for me.

“It’s fine, Bentley. You don’t have to tell me anything. I get it. I’ve taken this friendship and morphed it into something more in my head. I’ve allowed myself to see things that aren’t there. Your sweet words and kind gestures—this makeshift bed on the dock to watch fireworks over a lake. I’m the one who made more out of this than there is. So there’s no need to tell me what you think…I get it.” I moved to stand up, but he quickly grabbed my wrists, holding me in place.

“You have it all wrong.”

“Then what could you possibly have to tell me?”

It wasn’t until he moved his thumb to my face and wiped away a tear that I realized I’d started to cry. Frustration from feeling turned away numbed me so much that my natural reaction to pain wasn’t even recognizable.

“I want… I need to tell you that your…your—”

“I’m what?” I shouted, unable to take his stammering any longer.

“You’re my fate.”

Emotion had overtaken me at the rawness of his confession. My heart rate sped up, pounding an erratic rhythm against my ribcage. My body shook frantically as if it were winter and I was outside soaking wet. I didn’t understand why my body had become so out of control when his words were the exact opposite of the rejection I’d anticipated.

“Do you hear me, Sarah?” he asked as soon as he had my face in his hands again. “I’m in love with you, too. It was never part of the plan. I was never supposed to feel this way. I never thought I’d
ever
be able to feel this way. But I do.”

Without hesitation, I leaned forward and pressed my quivering lips to his, desperate to feel him against me in some way. He met me with force, leaning into me until I was on my back with his body hovering above me, his mouth never leaving mine. The soft cushion beneath me left me feeling like we were on a bed, but the dark sky lighting up with colorful fireworks reminded me of where we were.

I moved my legs to either side of his hips, giving him room to settle between them. He rocked against me as our kisses turned heated and frantic. The way he moved led me to believe he wanted to take things further, but I’d become so used to him stopping things at the last minute that I wouldn’t doubt he’d do it again.

“Please, Bentley, don’t stop,” I begged between kisses.

His body stilled before he pulled his face away from mine, just enough to look me in the eyes.

“Make love to me.” My words were nothing but panted breaths filled with yearning and desperation. “This isn’t me wanting to fill a void or needing a distraction. This is me, needing you. I
need
you to make love to me.”

“That’ll only make things worse.”

“What will?”

“When you break my heart.”

I reached up and pushed his hair off his face, holding my hand against his cheek. “I can’t break your heart without breaking my own. It’s a chance I’m willing to take. I love you, and if you want to keep waiting, then I’ll be okay with that. If there’s some…
medical
reason why you can’t make love to me, please know you can tell me. It won’t change how I feel about you.”

He shook his head and kissed me gently, soft and slow. “There are no medical reasons keeping me from making love to you.”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

With an agitated sigh, he said, “I don’t have a condom.”

Bentley had gotten me so worked up over the last few weeks, and now that I finally had the chance to be with him, only for him to not have protection, I wanted to scream. But instead, I said, “I don’t care. Pull out.”

“No, Sarah. I’ve never had sex without a condom.”

“Good. That’s good, because neither have I. And I’m on birth control. We’re both clean, I’m protected, we’ll be fine.” It was stupid and irrational, but much like we’re all taught when we learn about sex, the heat of the moment gets in the way and causes you to make illogical decisions. The way he felt above me, touching me, his breath hitting my face…it all clouded my judgment and I no longer cared what made sense or what didn’t. I reeked of desperation, and I was okay with that.

“I don’t know, Sarah…”

“We’ll be fine. Just pull out.”

He growled and latched his lips to my neck, causing me to grow dizzy with the sensation of his warm tongue on my skin. My hips bucked involuntarily, pushing into his until he ground into me again.

“I can just take care of you. We can wait for the rest.”

I chose not to respond with words, but instead, I reached down to the waistband of his jeans and released the button, then pushed the zipper down. With my hands grabbing the material of his jeans, I started to wiggle his pants off his hips, but then he stopped me.

“Sarah, no. We don’t have to do this. We’re not prepared. Let me take care of you.” His lips left warm trails from my shoulder to my chest, and then his hot breath fanned through the light cotton of my tank top, igniting a fire on my skin beneath my shirt. He softly trailed his fingertips over the sensitive skin on my sides while exposing my stomach. My shirt rose higher. He traced his tongue in lines above my bellybutton. Then he deftly unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts, and slid them over my hips until they were discarded next to him. It left me in only my panties.

As much as I wanted him to touch me, to please me, I didn’t want this to all be about me. “Bentley, wait. Stop.” I grabbed the material of his shirt on his shoulders and pulled until he lifted his head. “This is about us…
both
of us. This is
our
moment, not just mine. I don’t want you to only take care of me. I want us to be together.”

“I just want you to be satisfied.”

“And that’s exactly how I feel about you. You deserve gratification as much as I do. I understand your hesitation and your need for a condom, but I don’t want to get off simply because I’m horny. I want to experience
this
with you. All of it.”

He pulled himself back up my body and closed his lips over mine in a soft, sweet kiss. “I only want you to be happy.”

“Being with you makes me happy. I don’t need anything else.”

As he kissed me again, I slipped my fingers into his jeans and tried once more to push them past his hips. This time, he didn’t object until they were as far as I could reach on his upper thighs. With my hands working at the elastic band of his boxer briefs, he grabbed my wrist and slowly moved my hand above my head, holding it there with his, and then repeated the agonizingly slow gesture with the other.

“This is really what you want? Consequences be damned?” he asked, his lips an inch away from mine so I could practically taste his words.

“We’re safe. This is what I want.”

I kept my eyes on his, not seeing his hand move away. But I felt the tips of his fingers trail over my skin until he reached my panties. Suddenly, he backed away, but only long enough to remove the sheer lace that covered my sex, leaving me completely exposed to him for the very first time. But he never took his attention away from my face, keeping his eyes on mine the entire time. Then he moved back up my body as he freed himself.

His fingers found their way to the apex of my thighs and I bucked into him. “I’m ready, Bentley. God, I’ve
been
ready for this. I can’t wait any longer.”

As if he knew my reaction to him, he kissed me passionately as he lined himself up, and then he thrust inside me. He didn’t inch his way in easily, just one hard push until he was fully seated in me. It knocked the air from my lungs, my eyes widening in surprise. A whimper escaped, passing through my lips and into his opened mouth.

“Are you okay?” His narrowed eyes showed genuine concern as he studied my expression. “I tried to be easy, but
fuck
. I never thought it could ever feel this good.” He remained motionless as he watched my eyes for a reaction.

“I’m fine, just not used to your size. But I think I am now. Keep going.” God, it felt so good to have him inside me.

He slowly pulled out before thrusting deep again. “I’m going to try to take this slow, Sarah, but I don’t know how long I can hold on. It’s been a while for me, and you feel so fucking tight.” He lowered his mouth to mine, whispering against my lips, “So fucking good.”

Frantic thoughts filled my head as I desperately tried to come up with ways to make this last longer, never wanting it to end, and then I said the first thing that came to mind. “Just think about Waffle House.”

Halfway inside me, he stilled and cocked his head to the side, confusion embedded deep in his furrowed brow. “Why the hell would I do that?”

“Don’t guys have to think about sports or stuff to keep them from getting off too fast? I figured it would help you last longer. You know…think about things that aren’t sexy?”

His smile nearly curled my toes, the skin around his eyes wrinkling in the soft glow of the candles that surrounded us. “That’s enough talking for you. If you say anything else, you’ll have me going soft, and then it’ll really delay this.” He began to move in me again, pushing in and sliding out until I felt every movement throughout my entire body.

I wanted to tell him so much, but I couldn’t manage to utter a single word, only passionate moans and eager whimpers. So many sensations ran through me as he moved above me, hovering over my body. His breath hit my face in harsh waves of heat, searing my already overheated skin as he pumped in and out of me. The only thing I could think to do in order to connect myself more to him, to this moment, was to reach out and hold on to his shoulders. But then that wasn’t enough, my mind telling me I needed more, feeling as if I were in a dream and about to wake up.

My hands roamed from his shoulders to the fiery skin on his neck. I held his face close to mine as we stared into each other’s eyes, only our panting breaths between us. My heart pounded away against my ribcage, feeling as if I had a marching band playing inside my chest. I needed to slow it down so I could calm myself before I lost the ability to breathe altogether.

I’d never experienced anything like this before. Never had I been brought to such levels of intensity with a man. My body craved the release he built inside me, but my mind wanted it to last forever, never wanting this moment to end. And I’d never been more determined to satisfy someone else before. It went beyond what my body yearned for, what my mind sought. It soared past the desire to lose myself in someone else. And it became some unexplained longing to be present, to be wholeheartedly in this moment with him.

I slipped my hands from his neck to his chest, the fabric of his shirt caressing my palms as I fought to stay connected to him. I needed the rhythmic beat of his heart to slow mine down, so I placed my hands flat against the center of his chest, right over the spot I knew I’d find the solace I sought. It’s the place I’d used to ground myself over the last few weeks, the one spot I could lay my head and lose myself in the safety it offered.

But before I could detect the steady rhythm, he took hold of my wrists and again pulled my arms over my head to the pillows behind me. He secured my wrists there with his weight, not letting up on the pressure he used to keep me from touching him. But I had an irresistible urge to touch him, to feel him, to keep myself connected to him in any way possible.

“Focus on what we’re doing, Sarah. You
have
to tell me what you need. What you want. Tell me.” Bentley’s words were spoken in heavy breaths, hot and frenzied on my face.

“I want to touch you.”

He released his hold on me and I pressed my palm against his cheek. His eyes never left mine as he gave me what I’d asked for, but it wasn’t what I’d meant. So I slid my other hand back to his chest as I moved my hips in sync with his, meeting him thrust for thrust.

Without warning, he pulled back, grabbed my thigh, and positioned it on the other side of his body. He turned me until I lay on my side with him behind me. Everything happened so fast. One minute, he hovered over me, and the next, he cradled me in front of him. His chest pressed against the back of my shoulder as he maneuvered his arm beneath my head. His fingers threaded through my hair until he had a solid grip at my scalp, and then he craned my neck in his direction. Our eyes locked. With the glow of the candles illuminating his face, I could see the utter determination and desire in his deep-green orbs. The creases in his forehead deepened, as did the lines at the corners of his eyes. His lips pressed into a hard line, his nostrils flaring with every frantic breath he took.

Words refused to form on my tongue, thoughts evaded my mind, air refused to enter my lungs. I was left frozen at his mercy, desperately clinging to every second as they passed.

“I’m holding on as long as I can, Sarah, but you have to come. I need you to be satisfied first. Help me out here—tell me what you want. Tell me what I have to do to make you come on my cock.” His dirty words embedded themselves in me and sparked a carnal desire within me that I hadn’t felt since that night in the parking lot.

I didn’t have to think about it—I knew exactly what I yearned for him to do to me. “Fuck me. I need you to fuck me.”

He must’ve heard the urgency in my tone, because he hooked his arm around my leg and pushed my knee into my chest as he thrust into me again. He felt so much deeper this way, leaving me full, completely filled with him. The impact forced my eyes closed, an intense warmth consuming me from the inside out. As soon as he began to tilt his hips again, rocking our bodies with the momentum, a euphoric sensation began to build in my lower abdomen.

“Talk to me. I don’t want to come without you, but I don’t know how much longer I can hold off.”

Honestly, I didn’t care if I got off. Just being with him was enough, feeling him inside me, filling me—that was all I needed. But I knew it meant something to him, so I gave him what he sought. “Harder. Fuck me harder, Bentley.”

He slowly, torturously pulled almost all the way out before plunging back in. His hips hit my ass and left me breathless, dizzy, burning with an intense arousal. He kept up this pace, this slow pull and hard push, until my bladder felt full and ready for release. I knew what that meant, not because I’d ever experienced it before, but because I’d heard many stories about g-spot orgasms and what the buildup felt like.

“I’m about to come, Sarah,” he warned me through clenched teeth, his voice deep and gruff as if he were in pain.

“Don’t pull out yet. Don’t stop. I’m there…I’m right there.” I fisted the blanket in one hand and reached up to grab on to him with the other. My fingers awkwardly gripped the back of his neck as I pulled his head closer, using every ounce of strength I had in me. “Fuck, Bentley…don’t stop.”

His head dropped, his mouth latching on to my shoulder. The instant burn of his bite seared me seconds before the smoldering heat exploded in my lower stomach, spreading through me like wildfire. My limbs tingled, my fingers and toes grew numb, and my head filled with static as I gripped his neck tight and rode out the waves of my orgasm.

His thrusts turned wild and erratic, rigid. My name slipped from his lips at the same time I panted his, our airy words mixing into the night around us until they became a chorus to the drum-like booms in the sky above. Colors burst through the darkness around us, offering a visual to how Bentley made me feel on the inside.

“That was… That was…” He’d grown so breathless it became impossible for him to finish a sentence. It left him with nothing but winded and incoherent mumbles.

“Unbelievable. Incredible. Unreal. Fantastic. Pick one…or all the above.” My telltale grin stretched my mouth wide as my eyes closed, soaking up the blissful atmosphere that wrapped around the two of us beneath the night sky.

Finally, he released my leg, letting it fall as he relaxed behind me. He slowly pulled out, which left me empty yet satisfied. My core throbbed in his absence. The aftershocks of what he’d done to me commanded my attention and begged for more, as if I were a junkie and Bentley was my fix.