Burly

“I better be,” she says, swallowing. “After all, I sold my soul for this life.”

My eyebrows slash together. “What the hell does that mean?”

I’m surprised when her face rapidly turns pink. “It’s embarrassing.”

“More embarrassing than coming in my pants at the first feel of you underneath me?” I shake my head. “Angelica, you can tell me anything.”

Her tits rise and fall. She paces away, hugging her elbows and looking out over the valley. “Everything about you is so…real. You are one hundred percent authentic, Murph. Meanwhile…they put me in some pop music machine and it spat me out. When I’m on stage, I feel like a fraud. An actor. I haven’t even fought for the chance to record my own music. But you…” She wets her lips. “My father always talks about how heroic you were during your service. And I still don’t know what you do for a living, but…I know it somehow keeps people safe, because that’s who you are. A protector. I don’t even know what or who I am anymore.” Her hard swallow reaches my ears. “You must think I’m ridiculous.”

I’m pretty sure my mouth is hanging open. “There is no reality where I think you’re ridiculous, Angelica. Maybe you haven’t recorded your own music. Yet. But I’m in awe of you and what you’ve accomplished. How could you think otherwise?”

“You stayed away. You just disappeared.” She glances back at me with tears in her eyes. “I thought you must be disappointed or—”

I take a giant step forward, take her by the shoulders and turn her around. For a minute, I have no idea what to say. Can barely speak around the devastation that she’s felt deserted all this time. Here I was thinking she never gave me a thought until she was in danger. “Baby…” I take a slow breath, knowing there’s only one way to reassure her. “You eat oatmeal with pecans and strawberries for breakfast every morning. Your pre-concert ritual is to do handstands in your dressing room. You drink hot chocolate instead of coffee. You send money to charities anonymously, mostly ones that keep music programs in schools. I know every damn thing about you. I was never really gone. I just…fuck, kid.” I drop my hands and step away. “Look at me. And look at you.”

Angelica rears back a little. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” I seesaw a hand between us. “I look like I should be carrying you up the side of the Empire State Building. Not putting my disgusting hands on you.”

The girl looks stricken. “Disgusting hands? Are you…did you just compare yourself to King Kong? Like…a beast or something?”

I scoff, the tips of my ears burning. “Come on. Don’t act like the differences in our appearances never crossed your mind.”

Her expression is nothing short of nonplussed. “I love the way you look.”

“Oh yeah?” I slap at the tire around my waist. “This really turns you on?”

“Yes,” she whispers, breathing faster. And I definitely don’t miss the way her nipples turn to peaks in her sports bra. “Your thickness makes me feel safe. Like nothing could get through you. I like the way you press me down and I can’t move. I’m h-helpless and powerful at the same time. I love it. I love the hair on your chest and stomach, too, because it makes me feel smooth and sexy. All of it. I love all of it.”

My breath is trapped in my lungs. Did I hear her right or am I dreaming? “Last night…you just needed comfort from someone familiar—”

“No.” She shakes her head. “No, I needed it from you, Murph. Only you.”

It’s hard to speak when my throat is this tight, but I manage. “I’m too old for you, kid. I’m too jaded. I’ve seen things straight out of your worst nightmares. Maybe you don’t think I’m an ugly son-of-a-bitch, but what’s in my head is ugly for damn sure.” I look down at my hands, imagining blood running down my knuckles. “When I touch you, I feel like it’s going to seep out of me and dirty you. You’re everything light and sweet and beautiful.”

“And I’ve been worried I’m too phony. Too inauthentic for you.” Her eyes are hopeful as she steps toward me, slides her palms up and over my pecs. “Maybe we’ve both been crazy.” She licks her lips. “Do you want to be with me, Murph?”

I huff a laugh. “You really have to ask me that, Angelica? After I just told you I’ve been following your every move, demanding details about how you eat, how long you sleep, hovering just outside of your notice?”

“I love knowing that,” she whispers.

“Angelica…” I say hoarsely, squeezing her waist, leaning down to take a long inhale of her sugar cookie goodness. “Goddammit, you’ve got my dick so hard.”