His Alone (For Her 2)

He would never do those things. Captain would have saved the day. Maybe he could save me. The warm buzz of the alcohol pushes me on. I slip my feet from his lap, and he reluctantly lets them go. I start to crawl toward him, and he doesn’t move as I work my way to him and into his lap. I press my face against his neck, breathing in his scent of rosewood, and his arms wrap around me. Only holding me. I can’t remember anyone doing this, not even my own mother

“Did you know I remember everything?” I tell him a secret few people know about me.

“What do you mean by everything?” His hand on my back moves in slow circles. It’s a lazy rhythm that makes my eyes fall closed, and I melt into him.

“Everything.” I feel him pause for a moment before he starts rubbing again. “The first time I saw you, you had on dark blue slacks, a white button-up shirt. Your tie was long gone and the top two buttons were undone. When you’d turn a certain way, those damn muscles of yours would flex and strain under your shirt. I would get a glimpse of the tattoos, trying to peek out your sleeves. I spent so many nights wondering what they looked like after that first day. How they would trace up your arms.” My fingers are tracing them on his right arm now. I don’t have to look to know I’m tracing them perfectly. I keep my eyes closed, my face buried in his neck, breathing him in. I want to smell his scent forever. It’s somehow comforting. “It took time before I got to see them all, but I only needed one look. Now I’ll always know their exact pattern. Sometimes late at night I trace them on my own arm.”

“Paige.” He says my name softly, but it vibrates through his body and into mine, making me smile. I brush my nose against his neck, then place a soft kiss there. He stills once again. I love how I can do that to him with one little touch.

It feels empowering, and after what happened tonight, I revel in it. I felt so powerless in front of my father. I thought after all these years I’d have been better prepared. No longer that scared little girl.

“That’s one of the good things about remembering everything,” I tell him, placing another kiss on his neck. “The bad part is sometimes you want to forget something you’ve seen, but time can’t lessen the pain because you keep seeing it. The memory never fades.”

“Oh, kitten.” He squeezes me hard, like he’s trying to take some of those bad things away. I wonder if he knows what he’s doing. If he hadn’t come in here tonight, I’d probably be in my bed replaying memory after memory of things I didn’t want to recall, but right now all I can think about is his arms wrapped around me. The smell of him invading me. And the little taste I have of him on my lips.

Then, without warning, he’s standing with me still in his arms and carrying me down the hallway into my room. He places me on my feet next to my bed, and then he untucks his dress shirt and unbuttons it. I can’t help but watch each button pop, revealing more of his skin. His broad, hard chest comes into view, and I can only stare, stunned at the perfection. As I’m frozen in place, he goes for my dress, unzipping the side and easily slipping it off over my head. Never taking his eyes from my face, he drops it to the floor and opens his own shirt, then puts it on me. He covers my naked body and does up all the buttons, while the whole time I watch as he cares for me.

“Always the gentleman.”

“If you only knew,” he says, masking the words with a deep breath, and I almost don’t catch them.

After he’s finished buttoning me up, he pulls back the covers and picks me up again, placing me in the center of the bed.

“You’ll never fit on the sofa.” I reach out to him, wanting him to lie down with me. “Or were you…” I can’t even finish my sentence, I’m so afraid that he’s leaving. He saw me home, made sure I was okay, and tucked me into bed. My hand drops, because I don’t want this to end. I know when morning comes things will be different. I want to hold on to this for a moment longer before everything comes flooding in. Soon the memories will start pressing down on me, demanding to be heard.

“I’m not leaving.” His voice is soft, and it settles the rising panic.

A sense of calm washes over me, and I reach my hand out to him again. “Then lie down with me.”