She cups my cheek. “Look at me,” she whispers, steadily carrying my gaze. “We don’t have to do this . . . Not if you’re not ready.”
“No, I want to. I-I want to be with you,” I say¸ looking into her eyes. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she whispers with small, nervous smile.
I take a breath, then another, before moving slowly inside her, not wanting to hurt her, and not wanting to lose it. Because the panic is there under the surface, threatening to take hold of me.
I won’t
Let it control me anymore.
This is my life.
This is where I want to be.
Only here.
With her.
As I rock inside her, she holds onto my shoulders, staring up at me with complete trust. It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever experienced. And, while I’m still scared to death, I feel different. Changed. I never want to allow my fear to make me miss out on any other amazing moments like this. I’ve spent so much of my life missing out on the good stuff, because I allowed the bad stuff to consume me.
No more.
Time to remove the cuffs from my wrists.
Time to free myself.
An hour later, we’re lying in my bed with our legs and arms tangled together. “This is for Keeps” by Spill Canvas is playing from the stereo, which I turned on because Lyric insisted this moment needed a song.
“I like this song,” Lyric mutters as she rests her head against the crook of my shoulder.
I play with her hair as I gaze up at the ceiling, replaying what just happened between us. I’m still shocked that I wasn’t dragged into an unwanted memory. It almost happened, but all I had to do was look at Lyric and the memory and fear faded.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lyric props up on her arm and catches my gaze. “You’ve been really quiet.”
“I’m fine.” I sweep hair out of her eyes. “More than fine, actually.”
She seems slightly insecure over something, which isn’t like her. “You don’t regret it, right?” she asks.
I swiftly shake my head. “Not at all. What happened . . .” The memory fills my mind of rocking inside her while kissing her deeply. “It was perfect.”
“Good.” She relaxes. “I need to write a song about this.”
“About the first time we had sex?” I squeak, sounding pathetic.
“Don’t freak out.” She bites back a smile. “I won’t use your name.”
“It’s not my name I’m worried about. I just want to be the only one who gets to see you like that.”
“No one will see anything just from a song,” she says, highly amused.
“That all depends on how descriptive you are.”
“I won’t be descriptive. I’ll just write about how I feel.”
“Which . . . Which is good, right?” I need to know—need to make sure she’s okay with that just happened between us.
“Of course. What happened between us . . . It was really, really good.” Even though she confidently maintains my gaze, a blush creeps across her cheeks. “We do get to do it again, right?”
My own cheeks heat as I nod.
We stare at each other for a heartbeat or two then I lift my head while pulling her against me, so our lips meet halfway. She groans from the connection as I grip her hip and roll her over, covering my body over hers. Right as things start to heat up again, though, my phone rings. I try to ignore it and continue exploring Lyric’s mouth and body, but the damn thing won’t shut up.
I grunt in frustration as I push back from Lyric.
She giggles as I climb off the bed to dig my phone out of the pocket of my jeans that are balled up on the floor.
“I love when you get frustrated like that,” she says. “It’s so adorable.”
I smile at her as I swipe my finger across the screen. But when I see I’ve missed over ten calls from Lila, I frown.
“Shit, it’s Lila . . . She’s called a lot.” I dial her number as I put my boxers on. “She’s probably freaking out that I didn’t answer.”
“Ayden!” Lila cries before I can even get out a hello. “Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”
“Sorry, Lyric and I were practicing some of our songs, and I didn’t hear it ring,” I lie as I pick up my jeans and slip them on.
“I’m just glad you’re okay. I was worried sick. I even called the police and told them to check on you, so don’t be surprised when the doorbell rings.”