Page 80 of Wanted
In his arms, like this, there’s a safety I never knew. There’s no shame in how I should or shouldn’t behave. No embarrassment or need to apologize for being too much—too greedy, too sexual, too aggressive.
I can be just me.
I tug and pull at his hair with one hand while the nails of my other hand dig into his skin. I bounce my hips, meeting each one of his strokes.
My orgasm comes fast and hard. It tears through me, pulling a scream from the lips that reverberates off the cave walls surrounding us. Chance wraps a hand around my throat. Instinctively, I know it’s so he can “hear” me come for him.
Seconds later, he’s coming inside of me. A thunderous growl tears from his lips, calling to the deep restlessness that’s always been a part of me.
I take his thumb into my mouth, biting and sucking it as he comes. Our eyes lock as he comes. One word echoes in my mind.
Mine.
CHAPTER 22
Emery
A few hours later, once we’ve returned home, I start to call for Chance after I enter the bedroom and see he’s not there.
Then I remember that calling him wouldn’t make any sense.
Though he’s no longer in the room where I left him to take a shower, I know he’s close by. I find myself lifting my head in a strange way and giving a quick inhale.
Did I just sniff the air?
The answer to the question feels irrelevant when I sense something deep inside of my core stirs. Immediately, I know that feeling is a result of scenting Chance in the air. He’s still here.
Knowing this brings a comfort to that restless part of me I spent years trying to hide and deny.
His presence alone brings me comfort. Even as I change into a different pair of jeans, a V-neck tee and then style my hair. Though as I look in the mirror while doing my hair, I can’t help but to notice the puffiness of my roots, especially the part of my hair that’s gray.
The gray streak I’ve always had.
It’s only been about a month since my last hair straightening appointment, but my hair is growing insanely fast. The gray is becoming more difficult to hide even in the buns I’ve taken to wearing, daily.
As I look at myself in the mirror, I briefly wonder if I should look for a stylist here in New Mexico.
Soon, my hair will be unsightly and I don’t know how long I can continue wearing it in tight buns. Nevertheless, I use the gel I still have left over to flatten the edges of my hair.
I brush my hair into the bun in a way that manages to hide most of the gray roots before using a few bobby pins I have on hand to pin down any strays.
Once that’s done and I’m satisfied with my appearance I exit the bathroom to look for Chance. I follow my nose toward the front door. He’s halfway out of the door. His back pressed against the doorframe, as he stares up at the sky.
Soon after we arrived home from the cave a storm started. Though the thunder and lightning have passed over us, it’s still pouring.
I don’t interrupt Chance as he watches the rain.
The way he stares out at the distance intrigues me. Though I can only see his profile, I can make out the amazement in his expression.
He barely moves. Aside from the steady up-and-down movement of his crossed arms over his chest, no other part of his body budges. He’s in a trance as he stares at the sky.
I wanted to see the storm.
His words from the cave come rushing back. This is how he lost his hearing. He was fascinated by the rain and storms.
And I find myself mimicking his stance. While he stares at the sky, I watch him. He’s beautiful. A sculpture that’s come to life. The sleeves of his dark-gray T-shirt stretch around hisbiceps creating a contrast that draws my hungry gaze to the muscles of his arms.
I trace the sculpted forearms and back up the lengths of his arms to his handsome face. It’s still watching the rainy scene before us. He suddenly reminds me of my sister when she was younger and would stare at rainbows.