Page 75 of Aftershock
Me:I won’t, I swear.
Me:Thing is, what if my symptoms never resolve? What if I drain you?
My phone rings a second later, just as I’m curling under the covers.
“Lilith.” His husky voice sends shivers down my spine. “Why aren’t you in bed?”
“I am.” Despite the pressure building in my pussy, I don’t rub myself. It feels wrong to do it without his consent. But I do squeeze my thighs. “Dr. Lockwood.”
“Bad girl, teasing me like that.” He sounds serious, sweet, tired, and mine. “You really should get some sleep.”
“I’m fine. I swear, I’m not tired anymore.” Confusion makes my brow furrow. “That’s why you called? To tell me to go to bed?”
“I called because I wanted to hear your voice.” One sentence, and my mood lightens. “And to tell you that you either go to bed now, or I’m done respecting your space.”
“Can we talk instead?” As tempted as I am to say,I need you to fuck me until I can’t walk the next day, I want to get to know him too. Not by stalking him, but by listening to his stories. “Just until I fall asleep?”
“I was about to get out of bed and come over, but yes, if that’s what you need, we can definitely do that.” An image of him in nothing but his boxers beneath the covers floats into my head. I melt. “So this is how it’s going to go. I’ll ask questions, and you’ll answer them. All of them.”
“No.” Surprisingly, I’m not upset by his bossiness. I love his care and borderline obsession with me. It’s just that… “What if I have questions too?”
“You’ll have your chance once you’ve answered mine.”
“Fair enough.” I flip to the other side, facing the pillow next to me, pretending it’s him lying there. That alone has warmth seeping into my cold bones. “With one exception. No questions about my last name or when we met. Other than that, you’re good to go.”
“Deal. What kind of music do you listen to?”
My heart stutters at the question since the answer is…none.
Loud sounds, or any sound at all, got on Mom’s nerves. That’s why him telling me I can be loud, as long as no one but him hears me, made such an impact.
But music… She’s been gone for seven years, and I still can’t bring myself to play anything on my phone.
I don’t even dare to buy headphones. The one time I did, back when I lived with her, a glitch blasted some random pop song through the speakers while she was home.
I couldn’t sit for a week after that.
Shame rushes through me as I realize how deep my scars run. How I’m still letting her affect me.
The therapist the foster care system sent me to reminded me time and again that this is very common and that there was nothing to be embarrassed about. She said that I should be proud of surviving my mother.
But what if Alaric thinks I’m weak? What if he tells me I should just get over it?
My skin crawls. My stomach churns, my breath picking up.
“Lilith? Are you there?” Alaric’s voice takes on an urgent note. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not into music,” I blurt out, deciding I won’t tell him the reason behind it. “I—uh, I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. I’m glad you told me.”
NoYou have to check out to this band. I swear they’re good. NoStrange. Who doesn’t like music?
He simply accepts me, his words a balm to my fragile soul.
“Favorite movie?” he asks, though he doesn’t sound as confident as before.
I squeeze my eyes shut as old memories resurface. Mom used to get so pissed at the flicker of the TV, even when it played on mute. I’ll never forget the one time she slammed my face into the screen.
