Rewriting History - Page 56

“You spoke to your mom, I take it?” I ask, tilting her chin upward.

She nods, her gaze falling on mine. “We argued,” she says quietly. “I just can’t believe she’d do this. I can’t even imagine how my dad is going to feel when he finds out. I mean, he’s fucking fighting a war, and she’s in the arms of another guy?” She shakes her head vigorously, anger lacing her words.

I stroke her hair and listen. I know how she feels. The anger I’ve felt for my father has spanned more than a decade. I want to tell her it gets easier, and that she should forgive her mom, but who am I to say that?

Why should she believe me when I can’t forgive my own father?

“I’m so sorry,” I mutter, pressing my lips against her forehead. “I wish there was something I could say . . .”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m sorry. I pushed you to forgive your dad, but the betrayal you must have felt from him . . . I’m sorry.”

“My problem with Dad is more than just the fact that he cheated on Mom,” I say quietly. “He wasn’t a good father. Not to me. He was an even worse husband for my mother.”

I take a deep breath, knowing it’s time she hears the whole story.

“When I was ten, he cheated on my mom. With one of his students.”

“Oh, Eli,” she whispers.

“That’s why I struggle with us sometimes. He hurt my mother so much with someone who was barely older than me . . . I don’t want to be like him, Jill.” I curse and sit forward, my hands clasped in front of me. “I never want to hurt anyone the way he hurt us. I worry about how this will end.” I look at her, my heart racing. “I’d hate myself if I hurt you, but I don’t see how this can go any other way.”

“The only way you can hurt me is by not letting me in,” she replies.

Her arm caresses my back, and I’m amazed at how much I feel from even the smallest touch.

“My mom . . . I’m sure we’ll be okay. This whole thing is a shock and it will take me a while to get used to . . . but they’ve been good parents to me. She’s been a great mother.”

She reaches for my hand and squeezes it. “You spend so much time worrying about being like your Dad, Eli. How much energy and time goes into that? Think about forgiving him, for your own sake, not his. For your mom’s sake, because you can never be happy carrying around all this hurt.”

I’m stunned by her words. She constantly amazes me. At barely eighteen years old, she speaks with more wisdom and truth than I ever have in my entire life. How can she think with such clarity after what she’s just been through?

I pull her into my arms, kissing her over and over again. I know I don’t need to worry about her, and I find that funny. All along, it was never her that was at risk of falling apart. It was me.

***

I didn’t sleep much last night.

Most of the time I spent lying there, listening to the sound of Jill breathe, memorizing the feel of her skin against of mine. I love watching her while she sleeps. And touching her body . . . God, it drives me crazy. I reach out and run my finger down the center of her back. My cock is aching at how incredibly sexy she is.

She stirs and rolls toward me. My fingers find her breasts, and I roll her nipples between my fingers.

“Nice way to wake up.” She giggles, grinding her body against mine. “Have you been awake long?”

“Long enough to know you sleep-talk.” I chuckle.

“I do not.” She gasps, slapping my arm. Her eyes widen. “What did I say?”

I laugh, massaging her breasts with the palms of my hands. I roll her on top of me, positioning her legs on either side of mine.

“Hmm, probably safest if I don’t repeat it, you naughty girl.” I narrow my eyes at her as my fingers trail down her stomach.

She grins and bites her lip as my erection is rubbing along the softness of her ass.

Her hand finding my cock, she tugs a few times. Her touch is so light and it feels identical to when silk sheets rub along your skin. Leaning over, I grab a condom off the bedside table. Sheathed, she directs me to her entrance and I slowly drive into her drenched core. She’s so tight and I know I’m not going to last long—especially when she pulls her knees to her chest, pulling me deeper inside her.

Her fingers massage my balls and without warning, she comes, her walls contracting as she milks my cock. Through her orgasm, her fingers never leave my balls. She gently squeezes as her body tenses: a move that drives me insane.

I lean forward and kiss her neck as the tightness in my cock explodes. I release, my hands gripping her hips as my back arches before I collapse beside her on the bed.

Tags: Missy Johnson Romance
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