Page 22 of Come in with the Rain
I consider going into the bathroom to change but decide to strip down to my underwear in his bedroom instead. It feels strange to be standing almost naked in someone else’s bedroom. I slip off my bra and tug on his clothes, drooping off of me like an elephant’s skin. They smell like dryer sheets.
His bed, now that’s a different story. The bed smells like him, like body wash and man, that delicious smell of skin when someone first wakes up in the morning. I press my face into his pillow, and goosebumps spread from the top of my head, all the way down to my ankles, tingling heavy between my legs.
I run a hand down my thigh and fight with myself. I want to press my hand between my legs and my face into his sheets and get off to the smell of him and the fact that I’m in his bed, in his clothes. But even I know that’s catapulting over a huge line. I cannot come in this man’s bed, especially when he’s not in it. Not when we’re supposed to be keeping it professional, apparently.
So, instead, I pull the blanket over my head and try to fall asleep.
But an hour later, I’m still awake, staring up at the ceiling in the dark, listening for signs of Adam. I feel like he can hear me breathing, which is ridiculous of course because I can’t hear a single whisper of sound from his side of the house. I imagine sneaking down the hallway, going into his office and seeing if he still wants to keep things professional. I want to know what that big body would feel like against mine.
There are two doors and the entire expanse of the house between us. At first, I can’t hear anything but the static quiet in my ears. But then Idohear something. A grunt. Like someone in pain. And then a shout.
I shoot up in the bed, a chill running down my spine, listening intently. At first, I think I must have hallucinated, but then I hear it again, a distinct word: “No!”
I’m out of the bed before I’ve even processed what I’m doing. My footsteps seem impossibly loud as I run to the other end of the house. Outside the kitchen, I look at the three doors in the hallway, not sure which one is Adam’s office. But then I hear his blood-curdling shout. “Help!”
I throw open a door on my left. It takes my eyes a moment to find him in the dark, so low to the ground on the pull-out couch. “Adam?”
“Please, please, please,” he begs, and I feel my throat squeeze tight. He sounds like a child, begging like that. I don’t think twice before climbing onto the bed and taking his face in my hands. He’s slick with sweat, shirtless, and hot like he has a fever. He’s trembling. And he’s still asleep, his eyes clenched tight.
“Adam? Adam, wake up.” I’m breathing hard, either from running from one side of the house to the other or from sheer terror. “Adam,” I say louder. I climb on top of him, my knees on either side of his hips, and try to shake him awake by his sweaty shoulders. “Adam, wake up. Please wake up.” My voice is almost as desperate as his is now, and I can feel the fear crawling up my throat. “Adam,” I cry.
He comes awake with a gasp, his eyes bright and unfocused in the light streaming in from the hallway. It’s like he can’t see me at all, like he’s still looking at something that’s not really there.
I still have his face in my hands. “You’re safe,” I tell him, my voice finally a normal volume. “You’re safe.”
His eyes clear and focus on me, softening. For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of us breathing. And then his hands latch onto my hips, fingers splayed like he’s trying to make sure that I’m solid, digging into my flesh. “Stella?” he croaks.
I’m suddenly so aware of him that it’s almost painful. His hands slide along my waist until his fingertips are inching up under the t-shirt that’s his, and my blood pumps with adrenaline and lust. “Yeah, it’s me.”
He doesn’t respond, just keeps staring at me, and even though I want to push myself against him, slide up on his waist until we’re pressed together where it matters most, this isn’t how I want this to happen. Adam is in pain. Whatever he was dreaming about, it’s still in his head. So I pull away, start to lift myself off the mattress, but his hands tighten on me.
“Stay,” he whispers.
I can’t say no. How can I? His eyes are full of desperation, a desperation either for me or for anyone so he won’t be alone. I press a hand to his bare chest, feel the heat of him beneath my palm, and lower myself down onto the bed beside him.
As soon as I hit the mattress, he pulls me up against him, holding me to his side with one strong arm that doesn’t allow me even the slightest room to move. And I’m fine with that. I want to be as close to him as possible. I slide my hand up to his throat and feel him swallow under my fingertips.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask, and his entire chest vibrates with the echo of his voice when he answers.
“No.”
So, we don’t speak. We lay there in the dark, and I track the slowing of his heartbeat and his breathing, until I’m certain he’s asleep.
CHAPTER23
ADAM
When I wake up in the morning, everything comes back to me in vivid colors. The same nightmare as always, waking up with Stella in my lap, holding her until I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore.
Now, the bed next to me is empty, and I can hear her in the kitchen, quietly moving around as I pull myself out of bed and look down at my dick, tenting my boxers like it’s trying to reach out for her. The morning jerk-off routine will have to wait today.
I throw on some clothes and follow the smell of breakfast out to Stella, who’s trying to make room on the kitchen table for two plates full of food.
“Here, let me,” I say, moving forward and scraping up piles of papers. I transfer them to one of the empty windowsills. When I turn around, she’s set the table and is waiting for me to join her with a gentle smile.
“How are you feeling today?” she asks when I’ve settled beside her. Her eyes shoot to me and then away, and I want to kiss her. And not in that way that I sometimes fantasize about kissing her when I’m alone in bed at night. All tongue and teeth and the taste of her. This is something else. I want to kiss her slow and soft and with all thethank yous I have in my chest. I want to kiss her into the quiet, take my time.
Because the way she looked at me last night when I woke up and found her in my arms, it wasn’t disgust or pity. It was worry. She told me I was safe, and it calmed everything inside me. And when she looks at me now, I know she’s not avoiding asking me outright what the hell is going on with me because she’s uncomfortable. She’s not outright asking because she wantsmeto be comfortable. She didn’t run. She’s still here.
