51

I turn away from him, staring out the side window out into the grey ski.
“Don’t say that. You know what we are,” he says softly. And in this moment, I don’t agree with him.
“What? What are we? Huh, you apparently know everything about me? But what do I know about you? Nothing… NOTHING! You won’t share anything with me.”
“Jade. Come on.” He comes up behind me and pulls me tightly against him. I gather all my inner strength to push him away.
“You tell me nothing. I know nothing. Maybe this… has all been one-sided after all. Maybe, maybe what I feel isn’t real, because I don’t even know you.” I shake my head. I don’t know where to go from here. The rejection I feel every time I ask him something and he just disappears inside himself is too much for me. “I… I’ve gotta go,” I tell him.
He runs up and grabs my hands, twisting them around, and backs me up against the wall.
I don’t meet his eyes, instead staring out into the abyss of the Manhattan skyline, begging myself not to cry. Not in front of him.
His hands are tight around my forearms, holding them up over my head. His body pressed hard against me.
“Jade.” There’s a desperation in his voice I’ve never heard before. It makes my heart ache.
“You do know me. God, don’t say that you don’t. You do. You know me better than anyone. You know me better than I know myself. Because, these last few days? It’s like I’ve been reborn. You brought me back to life. I’m here because of you.”
“Kaine. You don’t even trust me,” I tell him. And he flinches again, as if the revelation hurts him as much as it hurts me.
“I do, I trust you. I just… this was before you came to me. I, I wanted to know everything about you. I was yours the moment you fell into my arms. And if I couldn’t be with you, at least I could watch you from afar.”
“I don’t believe you.” But I want to. Make me believe you, I beg him in my mind.
He leans in, and crushes his lips against mine. It catches me by surprise, I don’t have time to resist. My body responds before I do, melting into him, my mouth, kissing him back.
His hands stay pinning my arms to the wall, as his mouth moves all over me, over my lips, my cheese, my neck. Like he can’t get enough of me, like he wants to ingest me, devour me.
“Kaine,” I whisper, half moan, half protest.
He drags his tongue along my decollete, knowing how sensitive I am there, before pressing his forehead against mine, his eyes staring into mine, so close all I can see are his pupils, wide, open. “I’m showing you… I’m showing you how much I trust you, how much you know me. How much… I’m yours.”
With that, he sweeps me into his arms, carrying me back to his office, laying me down on one of the empty workstations in the middle of the room.
Keeping his eyes on me, he unbuttons the charcoal grey shirt he’s wearing and peels it off his body. Then go his shoes, his pants. And soon, he’s completely naked in front of me. There’s an aching vulnerability, one that’s palpable, soul wrenching.
He reaches up, somewhat awkward, his hand against his face, his scar.
And my heart breaks for him.
I reach out my hand to him, and he comes up, sliding his body on top of mine, reaching up under my skirt and between my legs. He growls, feeling my wetness. I’m ready, I’m always ready for him. Even in the fury, the anger, of our fight, I could never deny wanting him.
“Jade,” he whispers, pulling my panties down my body.
“Kaine,” I whisper back, my hands tracing lines up and down his neck and back.
“My beautiful, sweet Jade,” he says, louder this time, moving his hips to position himself, his finger flicking over my clit, making me lose all sense.
“God, Kaine.”
“Jade. My angel, my all,” he declares. And then he slides into me, Slow, deep, hard, purposeful, completely.
And it’s different to every other time.
He holds himself still inside me, as we both adjust to the feeling of being ultimately connected.
I arch against him and he takes my face in his hands, staring down at me, our eyes locked as he starts to make love to me. In and out. Each thrust, like it’s the first time. His pupils growing darker and wider as his breath becomes shorter and shorter.
“I trust you, completely, implicitly,” he struggles to say. Struggles from lack of breath, not lack of belief.
“I know,” I tell him, because I know he needs to hear it.
The words spur him on and I grip the sides of the table as his hips start to drive himself harder and harder into me. I’m so close, I can taste it.
I wrap my legs around his waist, grinding my hips against his just as I feel my orgasm break over me. He roars, throwing his head back as he crushes his hips against mine, his whole body stiffening as he empties everything he has inside of me. Our eyes never stray, watching each other commit all.
I take his face in my hands and kiss him. Kiss him until there’s no breath left.
He slides down onto the floor and pulls me down with him, cradling my head on his shoulder, smiling at me.
I reach out, my fingers approaching the left side of his face and he flinches and pulls away.
“Shhhhhh,” I coo, even though he hasn’t said anything. But he knows what I mean. He moves his head closer to me, and nods. I reach out again, slowly, and he closes his eyes.
My fingertips touch the side of his temple, tentative. And I pull back. Letting him adjust.
Then I lower my fingers to his cheek again, tracing the bumpy, jagged lines of his scar. His eyelashes flutter against his cheek and there’s a furrow of his brow, as if he’s imagining the journey my fingers are taking. One he’s taken himself a hundred thousand times. The scar is soft, giving under my touch. I reach the bottom of his jaw, where the jagged skin gives way once more to the smooth lines of his neck.
I move closer and press a kiss to his cheek, and he sighs and opens his eyes.
“My whole family died in a fire when I was nine years old. I was the only one who survived. My mother, my father, and my little sister Gillian. She was five. I was in a coma for two weeks, partly from a severe concussion caused by a part of the ceiling falling on my head just as I was running over to where I thought the rest of my family were. Where they died. I don’t remember it, but I have dreams of it. When I woke up, I’d missed the funeral. I had no one. And no one wanted me.”
I can’t even comprehend the horror of his words. To lose everyone, in that way. At such an age. And then to be completely alone.
I don’t say anything, I can feel more coming.