Desperate to Touch

“The fire at the farm?” I question her, as I stand up and move to the fridge. “No wine, Babygirl,” I add with a smile, easing her as much as I can.

“A beer?” she asks and even pouts. She can’t know how I want to kill Walsh for talking to her. She can’t know half the shit that’s going on. She wouldn’t want to anyway. If she knew, she wouldn’t stay.

“The thing is,” she keeps talking as I twist the top off and toss it in the garbage. She only stops talking to thank me when I retake my seat next to her. “He keeps bringing up Marcus. He’s talking to me as if he knows that I know.”

My hackles rise, the tiny hairs on my arms standing on edge.

“Whether he knows about the diaries or he thinks I’ve heard things and whispers in the center… I don’t know.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I played dumb. I told him if he needs anything from me, to let me know.”

Her nervousness and insecurity are something I’ve never liked. I’m here and as long as I’m here, she shouldn’t feel like that. I’ll fix it. I’ll find out everything and fix it.

“A cop came in questioning a murder, that’s… nerve wracking,” I answer her, taking a long drag of my beer after handing Laura hers. She doesn’t move to drink yet; even though I’m staring at the fireplace, I know she’s staring at me. “To add on to it, you have secrets. You know about him and his motives. That’s what’s gotten to you,” I say as I finally look at her and rest my hand on her thigh.

I have to give her a small smirk when my gentle touch, the back and forth of my thumb, gives her shivers. A deep chuckle vibrates up my chest. “So easy,” I tease her.

She finally smiles, a cute little smile that she tries to catch between her teeth. The soft pink of a blush rises to her cheeks and she asks me, “You really think that’s all this is?”

“You don’t like secrets and you’re shit at keeping them,” I tell her. “You’re doing good.” Patting her thigh and then giving a gentle squeeze, I tell her, “Don’t worry about Marcus or Walsh. They don’t know anything and it’s all in that pretty little head of yours.”

“You sure?” Even though she questions me, her body language relaxes. Everything about her believes me. Which is shit, because I’m lying to her. Marcus knows something. Walsh doesn’t though.

I give her a smile, followed by a peck of a kiss that leaves her with her eyes closed and a simper on her lips. “I’m sure, Babygirl. You’re just stressed, but you handled it well.”

“It’s just a lot and it feels like—”

I cut her off to say, “Because it is a lot. You’re carrying a heavy burden on your shoulders every day. When someone makes you question yourself, it feels a lot worse, knowing everything else that could fall.” Cupping her chin in my hand, I kiss her again. I swear every time we kiss she melts a little more. She doesn’t worry, she doesn’t buy into the voices in her head telling her she’s not enough and she’s in too deep. I should kiss her every moment of every day.

“So… what should I do?” she asks me.

“You already handled it. Nothing else to do but let it go. I know you don’t like to lie, and you did today, a lie of omission, but you have your reasons. You don’t need to be in the middle of anything and Walsh shouldn’t have put you there.”

“Right, right. And he doesn’t know that I read Delilah’s diaries,” she says and keeps nodding to herself, even after she’s done thinking out loud.

“I know what’ll help you,” I say as I get on my knees on the sofa and face her, towering over her.

She’s huddled beneath me, holding on to her beer with both hands and looking up at me wide eyed although there’s a smile on her face. “What are you doing?” she asks playfully.

“Hands up,” I demand and she obeys, not letting go of her beer bottle. Her bra’s a simple white number; it makes her look innocent and sweet. Like an angel laid out before me. An angel to play with, to dirty and taint with all the sinful lust I have for her.

“You make me want to do bad things to you,” I murmur. Peeking up through her thick lashes, her doe eyes go wide with lust, proving her to be the vixen she is. Even her cheeks heat nearly instantly.

“You like it, don’t you?” I ask her and she doesn’t even give me a chance to add, how much you get to me.

She answers, “I love it” before I can finish. “I love everything you do to me.” With her hands behind her, her shoulders back and her head tilted up to look at me, she’s vulnerable and waiting.