22
Eric
Every time I kiss this woman, I feel like I’m swaying over the edge of a cliff and the slightest thing will push me over.
She hasn’t even been in my life for a fucking week and look at me. Last week this time I knew nothing of her.
I was going about my business, plotting death. Now I have her pressed up against the walls of my shower again.
I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve had her in these few hours and each time I feel myself slipping away. I feel her slipping too and that’s something she must never do. Neither of us must mistake what we are, and neither of us must go so far over the line of reasoning we can’t go back.
I know I can’t because I can’t give her what she needs—life.
She talked of escaping life but I don’t think she realizes she escaped whatever bad things she was running from so she could live. I don’t need to know her for any length of time to know that about her.
Even as I kiss her it feels like she’s giving me new life, like every touch of her lips is filling my dark soul with light.
I cup her face and bury my cock inside her once more, taking what she’s giving me. Her moans fill my ears and every cell in my body absorbs her. As I pound into her I gaze into her eyes and I see light again. It’s like looking at what you want most and knowing you have to fight to get it.
It’s something I know I want, but I’m sure I mustn’t have because no matter what this is I feel with her, I can’t have her. I can’t keep her.
The light in her eyes shines then it’s swallowed up by pain. Old pain.
Old pain that makes me want to know what those bad things were she was running from. More shockingly is my desire to erase them from her mind.
What happened to her?
I could ask again, but I know she won’t tell me. So I do the only thing I know I can and lean closer so I can brush my lips over hers.
That’s when I taste the saltiness on my tongue and I look at her beautiful face to see a tear, roll down her cheek. A tear distinct from the light spray of water washing over us.
“What happened to you?” I ask the question and it sounds odd outside my head because we weren’t talking about anything.
She knows exactly what I mean though and she shakes her head.
She wipes at her cheeks but another wayward tear leaks from her soul. As it tracks down her silky skin, I feel like I’m someone else when I bend down and kiss away her tears. I taste them as I do, surprising her and myself by the unusual, completely unexpected gesture. It’s like the devil kissing the angel.
Sometimes though it’s the angel who lures the devil into the snare of temptation. The way this woman has with me.
I taste her sadness and grief and guilt. I taste her and want her all over again.
Arousal comes back into her eyes. So, when I beckon her to my lips, she comes willingly. Her lips cover mine for the sweet kiss again. When her hands press against my chest and her lush body melts into mine, I’m not sure if she knows she’s showing she wants me.
I don’t care.
The kiss makes me forget and all I do is feel her.
That’s how we are until the sun comes up. All we do that’s different is move from the shower to my bed.
As the sun rises I know this has to be the last time. I shouldn’t entertain anything more with her, so this needs to be the last time forever.
Not only do I have priorities, but being with her makes me lose focus in a way I can’t afford. I have to be on the street with my men today which means I need to give my efforts my undivided attention.
Yesterday, Borya got a lead on the cartel guys and I went back to the drawing board. It’s gotten to the stage where I need to be on the mark. Any distraction could cost me all our hard work.
Summer Reeves can’t be more to me than a woman to warm my bed. I think our desire to escape reality must have consumed us both.
Maybe her more than me. Her pain is fresh. I’ve had time and our stories are different. I don’t know what hers is, but I feel it’s darker than mine.