Uncaged (11 page)

Touching her hand to his. “I think that’s why we ‘get’ each other.”

“I think you’re right.” A storm of emotion rolled across his brow. “The next thing I have to say isn’t easy. I’m sure I’ll hate myself for being an idiot, but I’m going to ask you to go home and forget about me.”

Scanning his face for signs of humor gone awry, she saw none. “What? No way!”

“Hear me out. Go back to campus. I want you to have a taste of normal life. Date different guys. Find out what you like.”

“I like you.”

He rocked on his heels, nervous and unsteady. “I’m scaring myself with how much I already feel for you.”

“Good, so there’s no problem.”

Grasping her hand tight. “There’s a big problem. Last night, I lay awake trying to think of a solution that would be fair to you. I’ve shared a few of my secrets but not all of them. I can’t. Not yet.”

“You can—”

“Wait. Once you’ve finished college and seen more of the world, if you want to come back to this cabin, I’ll be here.”

With hands pressed to his face, she rose on tiptoe. “Mitchell, I’ll go home today without a fight. Not because I need to see more of the world or date other guys, but because I’m going to give you the time and space you need to realize we belong together.”

“Christy, you don’t know,” his voice became ragged.

“I know what I want. I’m more adaptable than you think.” She pressed a kiss to his lips. “Take as long as you need, and when you’re ready, tell me your secret.”

Surrounded by textbooks and paper cups of stale coffee, Christy sat cross-legged on the bed with her laptop snuggled close. She’d reread the same lines again and again. Study time had proved useless all week. Nothing sank in.

Since saying good-bye to Mitchell the previous Sunday, she’d waited for some form of communication, but none came.

Before parting, she’d scribbled her personal information onto a notepad, phone number, e-mail, Instagram account, her address, anything he might be comfortable using to send the smallest message. Folding the note in half, she gave it a kiss for luck and slipped it inside his vest.

Mitchell haunted her every thought. Vivid memories of his soothing voice, what he’d said, and how he said it, tormented her. The weeklong silence between them roared in her ears. She wanted contact, but not in a frantic way. A certain calm hung over the situation. A bone-deep sense of fate convinced her she’d never settle for another. With patience, she would wait for him to come to the same conclusion. Even asking her to leave him had been his idea of an act of love. She knew he’d meant to spare her something, but what?

After closing the laptop, she glanced out the window. She should get away from the empty apartment for a while and take a walk. Her roommate, Alex stayed at her boyfriend’s until Sunday night. Saturday afternoons were so lonely.

Knuckles rapped on the door.

Startled, she jumped and ran to look through the peephole. Mitchell’s dark eyes gazed back at her. He smiled and waved.

“Hold on!” With trembling hands, she unlatched the three locks her mother put in place for extra security. Mitchell stood on the second-floor balcony, looking shower fresh with damp hair brushed away from his face and a small package wrapped in silver paper clutched in his hands. Taking hold of his wrist, she gave a gentle tug. “Come in.”

He entered. “Am I interrupting?”

“No.” Shutting the door, she drew the latch and turned to drink in the vision. He looked so handsome in a blue-plaid shirt that complimented the indigo undertones of his black hair. His eyes sparkled. The line of his mouth tensed as if suppressing a smile or laugh. Fumbling with the package in his hands, he appeared nervous.

“You found me.”

He nodded. An indecipherable variety of emotions welled beneath the surface, threatening to boil.

“What are you doing in Sioux Falls?”

“Buying a water heater,” his voice shook as he said it.

“It’s a long drive for something like that.”

Stepping toward her, he thrust the package into her hands. “For you.”

With care, she tore the edge of the paper free and saw a book.
Who’s Who in Doctor Who; An Ardent Fan’s Guide To All Things Whovian.
He looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I bought it.”

She smiled until her cheeks ached. “I’ll read it. Thank you, Mitchell.”

He dipped his chin and drew a deep breath. “Christy, I want you to know I fall asleep thinking of you and you’re the first thing I think about when I open my eyes.”

“Really?”

His gaze locked to hers. The innocence in his eyes melted, instantly replaced with fierce passion. “I know it’s selfish and wrong, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to stay away from you.”

Stunned, she stared at the soft shadows on his face.

He stepped closer. “I’ll be your friend, protector, lover or whatever you wish. I’ll even wait for you if that’s what you want. I needed to say this face-to-face.”

Stroking her fingertips across his temple, she couldn’t hold back. She leaped into his arms. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she gave him a bear hug and squealed with joy.

Laughing, he turned in a slow circle. “I’m so happy to see you.”

She planted a flurry of kisses against mouth, jawline, and throat. The buttons on his shirt were plucked free and a patch of silky hair fondled. “Take me to bed.”

“What?” he sounded breathless.

“You’re not the only one who falls asleep with someone on their mind. I want to spend the rest of the weekend with you behind locked doors.”

He froze. “Christy, are you sure? I didn’t come here to pressure you.”

She skimmed her hands across his chest. “Mitchell, I’m absolutely sure.”

“I won’t argue.” He motioned toward the two bedroom doors. “Which room is yours?”

Both doors were open. “Take a guess.”

“I see a lot of orange in the room on the right.”

“It’s not orange; it’s saffron. That’s my Bollywood decor. Good guess.”

Carrying her into the bedroom, he kicked the door shut. “Where’s your roommate?”

“Gone until Sunday.”

“Lucky us.” He dropped her lightly onto the mattress then finished unbuttoning his shirt and shed it. In a flash, he stripped his boots and belt away, kicking everything aside.

Reaching for the top snap on his jeans, she unfastened it. “I thought I’d have to have to come to you.”

“Here I am.”

“Open the nightstand drawer.”

Leaning over, he pulled the drawer open. “How many lip balms can one person use?”

“That’s only half my collection. The rest are in the bathroom.”

“Ah-ha.” He picked up a box of condoms that came in bright colors and read it aloud, “Tropical Temptations. Wild guess, we use the orange one first?”

She tugged the hoodie over her head, revealing lots of skin and a lacy pink bra. “It’s saffron, and yes.”

He set the box on the nightstand, drew the bed covers aside, and motioned for her to climb beneath.

Not feeling particularly graceful, she rolled under the covers and wriggled her yoga pants down her legs, tossing them aside. He slid into bed beside her with his feet hanging over the end.

With a gentle touch, he cupped her face in his hands and gazed at her. “I know in the past you were…. Not treated—”

“Abused. It’s okay to say it.”

“I care about you. You’d tell me, wouldn’t you, if you wanted me to stop?”

“For years, I felt broken. I worried I might panic or feel shame when someone touched me. In your bed, I felt safe, loved…and fixed. Mitchell, I know I’m ready, and it has to be you.”

He wrapped his arms around her and drew her against his chest. “I drove myself crazy all week, thinking about you dating other guys, or God forbid, one of them taking my place next to you in—”

“Hush.” She held a finger to his lips.

Pulling her beneath him, he rested his weight on his elbows and leaned close to kiss her lips. A look of pure love softened his face. “Christy, my heart’s wide open.”

Breathless, she wrapped her legs around his, reveling in the sensation of Mitchell’s warm body pressed against hers. Returning his kiss with lips parted, she tangled her fingers in his hair and held him. The kiss deepened. A hint of wintergreen traveled on his breath.

He slid a bra strap from her shoulder and pushed the fabric lower, exposing a breast. In slow succession, his kisses traveled down the side her cheek to the tender hollow at the base of her throat until he buried his face between her breasts. With a mouth soft as silk, he explored every inch of bare skin with kisses. When his lips came to rest on her nipple, he circled it with the tip of his tongue, leaving it glossy. She closed her eyes in bliss as he gave the nipple a gentle tug past his lips and sucked. The burst of pleasure left her arching beneath him. His actions were unrushed. Making contented sounds, he brought the nipple to a fiery peak before switching to its twin.

His kisses swept lower, tickling her belly with his warm breath. Her anticipation built as he took hold of her hips and pulled her near. Dipping his face between her thighs, he brushed his nose against her springy curls. “I love your scent.”

She clenched the pillow and dug her fingers into it. Ready to writhe and go wild, she willed herself to relax into the stunning sensations of Mitchell making love to her. His wet kisses and languid tongue strokes left her breathless. She wanted him to linger on the crazy little spot above her clit. As her excitement soared, she caressed his denim-clad leg with her bare foot. “Time to ditch the pants,” she pleaded.

Lifting his weight off her, he unsnapped the fly and tugged the jeans down his legs. Undressing beneath the covers proved difficult, and soon, he tangled in the bedding, laughing. She assisted by kicking the pants to the floor.

Mitchell reached toward the nightstand and unwrapped the box of condoms. He removed the orange packet. “Lucky tangerine.” He kissed the foil before ripping it open with his teeth. His erection curved toward his belly. He capped the condom over the head with his fist, rolling the vibrant-colored condom down the shaft with quick, short strokes.

Her gaze riveted on his actions and the slender trail of hair that ran from his chest to his abs and ended at the thick patch of dark hair.

He noticed where her gaze focused and patted a reassuring hand against her thigh. “I’ll go slow. If you need to, tell me to stop.” Kneeling between her thighs, he eased her onto her back with a gentle tap. He grabbed a pillow and tucked it under her hips. “I’m going to stay where I can watch you, okay?” Leaning onto his elbows, he kissed her mouth. The faint tang of her own flavor hovered on his lips. Taking hold of her hand, he guided it to his shaft. “When you’re ready, put me inside you. We’ll move together.”

Closing her eyes, she rubbed him against her. An intense thrill shot straight to her core. With a slight adjustment to the angle, he slid inside with ease. The initial stretch paired with wet friction delivered exquisite sensations.

Clasping his hands with hers, he sank deeper and paused. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yes.”

Their fingers locked. He withdrew in increments and pressed again with a slow, teasing pace, each stroke smooth and slick. For many minutes, they moved together at the same sweet, slow pace that honey poured. She loved the intimate privilege of witnessing Mitchell’s rugged face enthralled by bliss. During an unguarded moment, his dark lashes fluttered.

Gently breaking his grip, she smoothed her hands across the rippling muscles of his back. “I’m right there,” she whispered, needing the slightest push.

He wrapped his arms around her, as if gripping a life raft. Every muscle tensed. A burst of energy uncoiled within, making his hips race. Rising on trembling arms, he arched his throat and came with a broken cry. Moments passed before he eased his weight against her.

She drew him close and caressed the swooping curves of his buttocks. He buried his face in her hair and allowed himself to be held as he gulped breath in panting bursts. For a moment, she wondered if his ragged gasps might be a sob. Sensing he needed reassurance, she kissed his cheek. “It’s good.”

“Christy.” His voice dropped to a quiet rumble. “I want to be someone you can be proud of. I’m not sure how, but I’m going to make things work.”

“Mitchell, I’ve seen you at your best. I am proud of you.”

A sunny smile curled the corners of his mouth. They lay together, lacking the will to move until he slid free of her. He removed the condom, wrapped it in tissue, and tossed it into the wastebasket.

Rolling onto her side, she propped her weight on her elbow. “I have a great idea. Why don’t we get dressed, go to the pizza parlor across from the campus, get a monster-sized pizza, and bring it back here? It’s quicker to pick it up, and only a couple blocks away.”

***

The chilly afternoon shadows were long. Walking at Mitchell’s side, she looked up often to catch a glimpse of his profile. The pizza parlor was packed when they arrived. “Jeez, I forgot it’s Saturday.”

“It’s okay.” He pushed the door open, and they walked inside. A mob of diners filled the foyer along with the enticing aromas of good food.

Several familiar faces were spotted on entry. She recognized a girl from a journalism class. “Hi, Trish!”

Trish elbowed her way over. “Did you get your projects finished during spring break?”

She shook her head. “Not yet.”

With her mouth agape, Trish stared at Mitchell. “I know you.” A young man rushed to her side. “This is my boyfriend, Scott.”

Scott appeared awed. “Wail’n Waya!” He dug through his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. “Dude, can I get a picture with you?” Slamming himself against Mitchell’s arm, he leaned close and took several photos. “Thanks. I always thought you were great. I’m really sorry you’ve had such a shitty year.” He muttered, “I’m posting these to Facebook ASAP.” He scanned Mitchell. “You look good. Maybe it’s time to start fighting again? I spent a fucking fortune on pay-per-view because of you. I can’t believe you just walked in here. This is epic. Wail’n Waya everybody!” Pointing at Mitchell, he shouted, “The cage king!”