Kissing Through Wires: Part Two
Rating: R
Characters: Nathan/Haley
Summary: It's been two years since Haley returned from the tour, she and Nathan are living the married college life and they are spectacularly happy. Oh, yes, they are.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Mark Schwahn & co.
***
Part Two
The last time Haley had been on a stage, she'd spend most of the night searching for Nathan in the crowd, even though she knew she probably wouldn't find him. It wasn't uncommon for her to look. The first few nights of the tour, she'd been convinced that he was standing out there somewhere, watching her. Sometimes she'd see him, only to realize it was just a stranger with a fleeting similarity - his height or his hands or his smile.
But there, that there, should have clued her in. If he had been watching her, if he had been hidden somewhere in the sea of face, he wouldn't have been smiling.
He hadn't tonight.
Throughout Elsewhere, she'd kept her eyes closed, trying to get the music to flow within her. Then in the second song, and the third song and the fourth and the fifth, she remained blind to everything but the sensations, like she used to when they made love, afraid of how he might be looking at her. She knew that if her eyes were open they would inevitably seek him out, above her or across the room, and she wasn't sure what she'd find.
But in the last song, in the last moments, she couldn't help but look. Normally from across the room his presence would overwhelm her, but this time she could barely feel him there. So she looked, and found him staring at her, an unfamiliar expression his face. She almost forgot the words to the song she was singing. She longed for the days when he wanted to hear her, when she would wake him up at four in the morning because a lyric or a tune popped into her head and she needed to share it.
Over the years she had become used to suppressing that, and now she wasn't sure if the melodies would come, even if she wanted them to.
After she'd left and come back, and after he'd left and come back, there was a lot of underlying tension between them. She'd always been good at reading Nathan, but she didn't need to be a mind reader to know how he felt about her singing. He never said anything outright, but whether they were in the middle of a conversation or dinner, if she starting singing then he would just leave. She'd never had the urge to sing during sex, but if she did, he probably would have walked out on her then as well.
But that night, when she got up in front of everyone again with guitar in hand, it felt good. It felt right. It felt like coming home to something you thought could never be yours again, and she'd had the feeling only once before.
That last night in Illinois, like many times before it, she'd searched and searched for him. Difference was, that night the lights came on and every person present was revealed to her. And she couldn't escape from the knowledge that he wasn't there, she couldn't continue to pretend that it was too dark to scan all the faces, that she probably had just missed him, that she would see him when he returned the next day.
So instead of waiting for more than his eyes or his shoulders or his chin to appear, instead of continuing her fruitless search she'd started before she even left, she made it happen. She'd quit the tour, sat on three buses, and come home.
For almost an hour, she'd sat outside their apartment. Somewhere between Tree Hill and New York, she'd lost her key. Finally she'd started walking around town before finding herself in front of his parents' house, a sinking feeling in her stomach when she realized it was his car parked outside. There were several boxes in his backseat, with my husband's basketball things and my husband's clothes neatly printed on the side. He probably hadn't even noticed that the words were there.
With one finger hovering over the doorbell, she'd wondered how many sentences she would be able to get out before he turned her away, wondered what she could possibly tell him to make things between them as they were before.
In the end, it turned out that she didn't need to say anything.
He'd opened the door before she could knock, taken her hand and pulled her to him before she could find the right things to say. Wrapped in his arms, she'd abandoned the search for the perfect phrase and magic words, letting herself melt into his warm and familiar embrace.
And for a while, standing there amidst the unspoken apology and unspoken forgiveness, things seemed like they were going to be okay.
***
"God, how bizarre does this feel?" Peyton said. "All we're missing is Brooke and a game of 'I Never'."
Haley looked up at Nathan as he wordlessly slid in beside her. When she had returned to the small booth Peyton found for the four of them, she'd been surprised to find him conspicuously absent even though she knew he'd been sitting there only two minutes before. She smiled at him, relieved when after a moment he gave the smallest of smiles back.
"How is Brooke doing?" Lucas asked. "The last time I heard from her was this postcard from Hawaii of a Hula girl with, uh…"
"Really big coconuts?" Peyton supplied. "We all got one of those too. Apparently the girl is supposed to remind us of her." She rolled her eyes. "But Brooke's good. She's living it up somewhere in California."
"Maybe I should've gone to visit her instead." Lucas said. "I could use a little sun."
"A little? California is not going to help you, you need to visit a superpower solarium." Peyton teased.
Haley watched them, marveling at how two people could just seem to fall into place.
Nathan tapped her shoulder lightly, and she turned to him with an expectant smile. It was the first time he'd touched her since she had finished her short set. "Hey, I'm going to take off." He said in a low voice. "Can you get a lift home from Peyton?"
When she came off the stage, she was filled with a sickening combination of exhilaration and dread, swimming in her stomach like fizzy soda and heavy lead. She tried to push one down and focus on the other, but it was difficult when Nathan was sitting beside her with stiff arms crossed over his chest and a stoic expression on his face. It was difficult to pretend when Nathan would normally have an arm around her shoulders, a hand on her thigh, their legs touching from hip to knee to ankle.
"No, wait, I'll come with you," she said, but he was already sliding out of the booth, and she wondered if he had even heard her say she would go with him, even though she wanted to stay.
"You're leaving already?" Peyton asked. "That's mighty anti-social of you, Nathan."
Lucas smirked. "I think he's a little angry with me," he stage whispered. "I, uh, interrupted them earlier, and he's probably just anxious to get home."
Peyton laughed. "I'll bring Lucas by to pick up his stuff in the morning, then. Good thing he's staying with me, huh?"
"Yeah." Nathan muttered, waiting for Haley to follow.
In every relationship there was a hidden box filled with things unsaid and emotions bottled up, and Haley had just opened theirs.
She gathered her things and grabbed his hand as they made their way towards the exit. Unlike other times, he didn't give a quick squeeze or playfully bump into her as they walked, but maybe it was enough that he didn't let go.
***
They'd held hands in the hospital, waiting for word on Dan's condition until Deb had told them to go home, get some rest. Nathan hadn't wanted to go but let himself be persuaded. Haley understood that while he hated his father, while he couldn't forgive the mistakes his father made again and again and again, Nathan still loved him and needed to know that he was okay.
Back at the Scott house, they'd curled up in each other's arms. She'd missed this, the way he held her: gently as though he was afraid she might break, but firmly as though he was afraid she might slip away.
With their limbs entwined, she'd tried to find the words to tell him that he didn't need to worry.
"I got into High Flyers." He'd spoken against her shoulder, where his face was buried, his breath and chin tickling her neck.
"I - I'm glad you re-applied," she'd said, pulling back to look at him and trying to smile brightly. "You really deserve it."
"I'm leaving tomorrow for the summer."
"And I'll be here when you get back."
The next day he'd kissed her goodbye at the airport, the first time since she'd come home. She had broken down a little then, told him that she was sorry, that there were so many things she wanted to tell him, and should have earlier, but he cut her off. He'd said that none of it mattered now that she was home.
And then after promising to call, Nathan had walked through the doors, leaving her alone.
Haley had waited until his plane was out of sight before she turned to go.
With the money she'd saved from the tour, she rented back their apartment and painted over the pink wall as best she could without looking straight at it. She'd picked up her belongings from the storage space and rearranged their things so it looked almost as it did before she left. There were still a few things missing: his playstation, his smelly shoes near the door, his basketball jerseys taking up more space in their closet than she'd thought he would need. Without his clutter, their home looked emptier than she wanted to admit.
From her bags she'd unpacked one last item and hung it on his side of the closet, standing back to admire the final touch. It was a navy jersey she'd taken with her and slept with because it smelt like him. Over the weeks the smell had started to fade, becoming more like her, but when she breathed deeply she could find the hints that still lingered.
When he'd returned three months later, she almost hadn't recognized him. He'd looked different - leaner but more muscular, hair shorn so that there was nothing left for her to run her fingers through. But more than that, he was different on the inside, a little more closed off, a little more mistrusting, a little less everything else.
She wondered if he'd thought the same of her, because she knew that she'd changed as well.
But despite the differences, when they saw each other again from across the airport, they'd stopped and stared for a moment, each waiting for the other to take the first step. Finally, he'd given her a broad smile and she'd sprinted the distance between them and jumped into his arms.
Like before, he caught her easily.
And despite the differences, despite the comings and goings, their relationship quickly became, for the most part, as it was before.
***
The drive home was quiet. Haley watched the streets pass, the eerie glow from the streetlamps as it wash over their windshield. The radio was playing an old sixties song, one she knew Nathan hated, but he didn't even try to change the station.
They were going to have to deal with her leaving soon. They were going to have to talk, and say things and do things that were real. They'd waited long enough, spent too much time pretending that things were okay, done it so well that for a while they'd even fooled themselves. But even if they believed it, that didn't make it true.
The hidden box of their relationship may have been put out of sight, but it had been open all along.
And Haley knew she had to try to clear that box, even if it was all just motions, even if she didn't yet know how to make them real.
"Is there something wrong?" She asked, watching as he pulled the car into the apartment parking lot.
"No."
"You know you can tell me anything, Nathan." She said, following him out of the car and up to their door.
They made it four steps past the couch before he announced, "I'm going for a drive."
"Don't you think we should talk?"
"About what?"
"This," she said, gesturing around them, at the throw cushions she'd chosen and he'd hated, at the counter where the milk she'd asked him to put back still sat. It had since gone bad. "Us."
"No," he said shortly, not quite snapping at her, but his voice was tight and controlled. It was then that she realized he was angry - not just upset, not just edgy or afraid, but angry.
"So you're just going to leave," she said, throwing her hands up in frustration. "Like I did once - just once - and like you've been doing ever since."
He threw the keys on the counter then, and turned to face her. She saw that his eyes were dark and stormy, and for the first time in her life, when she looked at him she felt a little fear. And something else, something uncomfortably familiar, squirming in the pit of her stomach, making it hard for her to stay still.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Haley," he said, shrugging off his jacket and slowly stalking towards her.
"I know," she said, taking another step backwards.
"I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to."
"I know."
"So stop moving."
She did.
When he reached her, he bent his head to hers, brushing their lips together in the faintest whisper, so faint that she wasn't sure if they touched at all. She tilted her head, reaching for him, but he kept moving away.
She kept her eyes on his mouth. His now unwavering stare made her uneasy.
His hands were gliding along her sides, thumbs grazing the undersides of her breasts, causing her to shiver, but he didn't linger. Instead his fingers slowly traced over her ribs, the sliver of her stomach left exposed by her tank top, the curve of her hips.
She let her eyes close, and concentrated on the feel of his hands as they touched her.
Only his hands. Nothing else.
He pushed her skirt up over her hips so that her legs were exposed, the motion causing a small gust of cold air to tickle the inside of her thighs. Slowly and deliberately, he pressed the heel of his palm against her panties. A small sigh escaped her lips even though she fought to stay silent, unconsciously knowing that he didn't want her to speak. She leaned forward slightly, resting her forehead against his.
It seemed like the moment she relaxed and accepted that he was in charge and that there was nothing she could do to rush him, he pushed her the flimsy material aside and roughly pushed two fingers inside her, finding her slick and hot. Her eyes flew open and she gasped into his mouth, her body sagging against him as he drove her halfway to insanity, as they stood there in the middle of the living room. She was still clutching her bag in one hand.
When she felt something inside her tighten, ready for release as she panted his name, he stopped. She let out a mewl of disappointment, finding it difficult to focus on him as her eyes were hazy and glazed over with need.
He pulled his fingers out of her and wiped the stickiness across her chest.
"Go in the bedroom."
Her legs felt like jelly as she took each step. She resisted the urge to check that he was still behind her.
She dropped her bag near the vanity, her hand red and aching from clenching the coarse leather, and turned to face him.
He was leaning against the doorframe, expression unreadable.
For now all she needed to know was that he wanted her.
"Take off your clothes."
She pulled off her top, then with shaking hands her skirt and underwear.
"Turn around."
In the mirror she could see him coming closer, unbuttoning his shirt and discarding his jeans as he went. He stood behind her, both of them naked. He rubbed her bare shoulders, gliding his hands down her arms. Tiny hairs rose in his wake. He guided her hands to the edge of the vanity they were standing in front of and left them there.
A finger drifted the length of her back, skimming the bumps and hollows of her spine.
She closed her eyes and waited. The room was silent; the only sound was her pulse rushing through her ears.
There was a rustle from behind her, then nothing, then he plunged and she was so full and her eyes snapped open in shock, panting hard and unsteadily as she watched the rhythm of their reflections.
He moved deep inside her, with a force that pressed her against the wooden drawers and cold silver handles that left an indent she couldn't yet feel. She arched her back, tucking her head underneath his chin, some distant part of her glad that they still fit. His mouth latched onto her neck, pushing her hair over her other shoulder so that it tumbled down and tickled her skin.
He was gripping her so hard that she knew tomorrow there'd be bite marks on her neck, hand-shaped bruises on her hips. Like the invisible fingerprints he left all over her body, they'd take a while to fade.
She watched the bottles of perfume and knick-knacks shake, her hands clutching the vanity, helpless to stop what she knew would soon break. Something rolled off the side, shattering on the floor near their bare feet.
"Look at me, Haley," he ordered.
He watched her face in the mirror, his gaze unrelenting.
She found it difficult to meet his eyes, couldn't fight the feeling rising in her chest, the feeling spreading through her belly.
Her eyes drifted closed, but he held her chin up with one hand, forcing her look, stopping his motions when she didn't comply.
"Look at me."
There were sweat beads on her back, and she was desperately sliding against him.
She looked, powerless to do anything but obey. Her entire body was shaking, breaths erratic. It was climbing inside her again, and this time he was determined to drive her over the edge.
She might've screamed, her body rigid and taut as something inside her came apart.
The last thing she saw were his eyes, wild and dark.
And almost sad.
When she came to, they were both lying on the bed in silence.
It felt like she'd lost more than consciousness in those few minutes she can't remember.
There were three cracks in the corner of their bedroom ceiling.
There were three inches between them, but the distance seemed endless.
***
to be continued...
Characters: Nathan/Haley
Summary: It's been two years since Haley returned from the tour, she and Nathan are living the married college life and they are spectacularly happy. Oh, yes, they are.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Mark Schwahn & co.
***
Part Two
The last time Haley had been on a stage, she'd spend most of the night searching for Nathan in the crowd, even though she knew she probably wouldn't find him. It wasn't uncommon for her to look. The first few nights of the tour, she'd been convinced that he was standing out there somewhere, watching her. Sometimes she'd see him, only to realize it was just a stranger with a fleeting similarity - his height or his hands or his smile.
But there, that there, should have clued her in. If he had been watching her, if he had been hidden somewhere in the sea of face, he wouldn't have been smiling.
He hadn't tonight.
Throughout Elsewhere, she'd kept her eyes closed, trying to get the music to flow within her. Then in the second song, and the third song and the fourth and the fifth, she remained blind to everything but the sensations, like she used to when they made love, afraid of how he might be looking at her. She knew that if her eyes were open they would inevitably seek him out, above her or across the room, and she wasn't sure what she'd find.
But in the last song, in the last moments, she couldn't help but look. Normally from across the room his presence would overwhelm her, but this time she could barely feel him there. So she looked, and found him staring at her, an unfamiliar expression his face. She almost forgot the words to the song she was singing. She longed for the days when he wanted to hear her, when she would wake him up at four in the morning because a lyric or a tune popped into her head and she needed to share it.
Over the years she had become used to suppressing that, and now she wasn't sure if the melodies would come, even if she wanted them to.
After she'd left and come back, and after he'd left and come back, there was a lot of underlying tension between them. She'd always been good at reading Nathan, but she didn't need to be a mind reader to know how he felt about her singing. He never said anything outright, but whether they were in the middle of a conversation or dinner, if she starting singing then he would just leave. She'd never had the urge to sing during sex, but if she did, he probably would have walked out on her then as well.
But that night, when she got up in front of everyone again with guitar in hand, it felt good. It felt right. It felt like coming home to something you thought could never be yours again, and she'd had the feeling only once before.
That last night in Illinois, like many times before it, she'd searched and searched for him. Difference was, that night the lights came on and every person present was revealed to her. And she couldn't escape from the knowledge that he wasn't there, she couldn't continue to pretend that it was too dark to scan all the faces, that she probably had just missed him, that she would see him when he returned the next day.
So instead of waiting for more than his eyes or his shoulders or his chin to appear, instead of continuing her fruitless search she'd started before she even left, she made it happen. She'd quit the tour, sat on three buses, and come home.
For almost an hour, she'd sat outside their apartment. Somewhere between Tree Hill and New York, she'd lost her key. Finally she'd started walking around town before finding herself in front of his parents' house, a sinking feeling in her stomach when she realized it was his car parked outside. There were several boxes in his backseat, with my husband's basketball things and my husband's clothes neatly printed on the side. He probably hadn't even noticed that the words were there.
With one finger hovering over the doorbell, she'd wondered how many sentences she would be able to get out before he turned her away, wondered what she could possibly tell him to make things between them as they were before.
In the end, it turned out that she didn't need to say anything.
He'd opened the door before she could knock, taken her hand and pulled her to him before she could find the right things to say. Wrapped in his arms, she'd abandoned the search for the perfect phrase and magic words, letting herself melt into his warm and familiar embrace.
And for a while, standing there amidst the unspoken apology and unspoken forgiveness, things seemed like they were going to be okay.
***
"God, how bizarre does this feel?" Peyton said. "All we're missing is Brooke and a game of 'I Never'."
Haley looked up at Nathan as he wordlessly slid in beside her. When she had returned to the small booth Peyton found for the four of them, she'd been surprised to find him conspicuously absent even though she knew he'd been sitting there only two minutes before. She smiled at him, relieved when after a moment he gave the smallest of smiles back.
"How is Brooke doing?" Lucas asked. "The last time I heard from her was this postcard from Hawaii of a Hula girl with, uh…"
"Really big coconuts?" Peyton supplied. "We all got one of those too. Apparently the girl is supposed to remind us of her." She rolled her eyes. "But Brooke's good. She's living it up somewhere in California."
"Maybe I should've gone to visit her instead." Lucas said. "I could use a little sun."
"A little? California is not going to help you, you need to visit a superpower solarium." Peyton teased.
Haley watched them, marveling at how two people could just seem to fall into place.
Nathan tapped her shoulder lightly, and she turned to him with an expectant smile. It was the first time he'd touched her since she had finished her short set. "Hey, I'm going to take off." He said in a low voice. "Can you get a lift home from Peyton?"
When she came off the stage, she was filled with a sickening combination of exhilaration and dread, swimming in her stomach like fizzy soda and heavy lead. She tried to push one down and focus on the other, but it was difficult when Nathan was sitting beside her with stiff arms crossed over his chest and a stoic expression on his face. It was difficult to pretend when Nathan would normally have an arm around her shoulders, a hand on her thigh, their legs touching from hip to knee to ankle.
"No, wait, I'll come with you," she said, but he was already sliding out of the booth, and she wondered if he had even heard her say she would go with him, even though she wanted to stay.
"You're leaving already?" Peyton asked. "That's mighty anti-social of you, Nathan."
Lucas smirked. "I think he's a little angry with me," he stage whispered. "I, uh, interrupted them earlier, and he's probably just anxious to get home."
Peyton laughed. "I'll bring Lucas by to pick up his stuff in the morning, then. Good thing he's staying with me, huh?"
"Yeah." Nathan muttered, waiting for Haley to follow.
In every relationship there was a hidden box filled with things unsaid and emotions bottled up, and Haley had just opened theirs.
She gathered her things and grabbed his hand as they made their way towards the exit. Unlike other times, he didn't give a quick squeeze or playfully bump into her as they walked, but maybe it was enough that he didn't let go.
***
They'd held hands in the hospital, waiting for word on Dan's condition until Deb had told them to go home, get some rest. Nathan hadn't wanted to go but let himself be persuaded. Haley understood that while he hated his father, while he couldn't forgive the mistakes his father made again and again and again, Nathan still loved him and needed to know that he was okay.
Back at the Scott house, they'd curled up in each other's arms. She'd missed this, the way he held her: gently as though he was afraid she might break, but firmly as though he was afraid she might slip away.
With their limbs entwined, she'd tried to find the words to tell him that he didn't need to worry.
"I got into High Flyers." He'd spoken against her shoulder, where his face was buried, his breath and chin tickling her neck.
"I - I'm glad you re-applied," she'd said, pulling back to look at him and trying to smile brightly. "You really deserve it."
"I'm leaving tomorrow for the summer."
"And I'll be here when you get back."
The next day he'd kissed her goodbye at the airport, the first time since she'd come home. She had broken down a little then, told him that she was sorry, that there were so many things she wanted to tell him, and should have earlier, but he cut her off. He'd said that none of it mattered now that she was home.
And then after promising to call, Nathan had walked through the doors, leaving her alone.
Haley had waited until his plane was out of sight before she turned to go.
With the money she'd saved from the tour, she rented back their apartment and painted over the pink wall as best she could without looking straight at it. She'd picked up her belongings from the storage space and rearranged their things so it looked almost as it did before she left. There were still a few things missing: his playstation, his smelly shoes near the door, his basketball jerseys taking up more space in their closet than she'd thought he would need. Without his clutter, their home looked emptier than she wanted to admit.
From her bags she'd unpacked one last item and hung it on his side of the closet, standing back to admire the final touch. It was a navy jersey she'd taken with her and slept with because it smelt like him. Over the weeks the smell had started to fade, becoming more like her, but when she breathed deeply she could find the hints that still lingered.
When he'd returned three months later, she almost hadn't recognized him. He'd looked different - leaner but more muscular, hair shorn so that there was nothing left for her to run her fingers through. But more than that, he was different on the inside, a little more closed off, a little more mistrusting, a little less everything else.
She wondered if he'd thought the same of her, because she knew that she'd changed as well.
But despite the differences, when they saw each other again from across the airport, they'd stopped and stared for a moment, each waiting for the other to take the first step. Finally, he'd given her a broad smile and she'd sprinted the distance between them and jumped into his arms.
Like before, he caught her easily.
And despite the differences, despite the comings and goings, their relationship quickly became, for the most part, as it was before.
***
The drive home was quiet. Haley watched the streets pass, the eerie glow from the streetlamps as it wash over their windshield. The radio was playing an old sixties song, one she knew Nathan hated, but he didn't even try to change the station.
They were going to have to deal with her leaving soon. They were going to have to talk, and say things and do things that were real. They'd waited long enough, spent too much time pretending that things were okay, done it so well that for a while they'd even fooled themselves. But even if they believed it, that didn't make it true.
The hidden box of their relationship may have been put out of sight, but it had been open all along.
And Haley knew she had to try to clear that box, even if it was all just motions, even if she didn't yet know how to make them real.
"Is there something wrong?" She asked, watching as he pulled the car into the apartment parking lot.
"No."
"You know you can tell me anything, Nathan." She said, following him out of the car and up to their door.
They made it four steps past the couch before he announced, "I'm going for a drive."
"Don't you think we should talk?"
"About what?"
"This," she said, gesturing around them, at the throw cushions she'd chosen and he'd hated, at the counter where the milk she'd asked him to put back still sat. It had since gone bad. "Us."
"No," he said shortly, not quite snapping at her, but his voice was tight and controlled. It was then that she realized he was angry - not just upset, not just edgy or afraid, but angry.
"So you're just going to leave," she said, throwing her hands up in frustration. "Like I did once - just once - and like you've been doing ever since."
He threw the keys on the counter then, and turned to face her. She saw that his eyes were dark and stormy, and for the first time in her life, when she looked at him she felt a little fear. And something else, something uncomfortably familiar, squirming in the pit of her stomach, making it hard for her to stay still.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Haley," he said, shrugging off his jacket and slowly stalking towards her.
"I know," she said, taking another step backwards.
"I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to."
"I know."
"So stop moving."
She did.
When he reached her, he bent his head to hers, brushing their lips together in the faintest whisper, so faint that she wasn't sure if they touched at all. She tilted her head, reaching for him, but he kept moving away.
She kept her eyes on his mouth. His now unwavering stare made her uneasy.
His hands were gliding along her sides, thumbs grazing the undersides of her breasts, causing her to shiver, but he didn't linger. Instead his fingers slowly traced over her ribs, the sliver of her stomach left exposed by her tank top, the curve of her hips.
She let her eyes close, and concentrated on the feel of his hands as they touched her.
Only his hands. Nothing else.
He pushed her skirt up over her hips so that her legs were exposed, the motion causing a small gust of cold air to tickle the inside of her thighs. Slowly and deliberately, he pressed the heel of his palm against her panties. A small sigh escaped her lips even though she fought to stay silent, unconsciously knowing that he didn't want her to speak. She leaned forward slightly, resting her forehead against his.
It seemed like the moment she relaxed and accepted that he was in charge and that there was nothing she could do to rush him, he pushed her the flimsy material aside and roughly pushed two fingers inside her, finding her slick and hot. Her eyes flew open and she gasped into his mouth, her body sagging against him as he drove her halfway to insanity, as they stood there in the middle of the living room. She was still clutching her bag in one hand.
When she felt something inside her tighten, ready for release as she panted his name, he stopped. She let out a mewl of disappointment, finding it difficult to focus on him as her eyes were hazy and glazed over with need.
He pulled his fingers out of her and wiped the stickiness across her chest.
"Go in the bedroom."
Her legs felt like jelly as she took each step. She resisted the urge to check that he was still behind her.
She dropped her bag near the vanity, her hand red and aching from clenching the coarse leather, and turned to face him.
He was leaning against the doorframe, expression unreadable.
For now all she needed to know was that he wanted her.
"Take off your clothes."
She pulled off her top, then with shaking hands her skirt and underwear.
"Turn around."
In the mirror she could see him coming closer, unbuttoning his shirt and discarding his jeans as he went. He stood behind her, both of them naked. He rubbed her bare shoulders, gliding his hands down her arms. Tiny hairs rose in his wake. He guided her hands to the edge of the vanity they were standing in front of and left them there.
A finger drifted the length of her back, skimming the bumps and hollows of her spine.
She closed her eyes and waited. The room was silent; the only sound was her pulse rushing through her ears.
There was a rustle from behind her, then nothing, then he plunged and she was so full and her eyes snapped open in shock, panting hard and unsteadily as she watched the rhythm of their reflections.
He moved deep inside her, with a force that pressed her against the wooden drawers and cold silver handles that left an indent she couldn't yet feel. She arched her back, tucking her head underneath his chin, some distant part of her glad that they still fit. His mouth latched onto her neck, pushing her hair over her other shoulder so that it tumbled down and tickled her skin.
He was gripping her so hard that she knew tomorrow there'd be bite marks on her neck, hand-shaped bruises on her hips. Like the invisible fingerprints he left all over her body, they'd take a while to fade.
She watched the bottles of perfume and knick-knacks shake, her hands clutching the vanity, helpless to stop what she knew would soon break. Something rolled off the side, shattering on the floor near their bare feet.
"Look at me, Haley," he ordered.
He watched her face in the mirror, his gaze unrelenting.
She found it difficult to meet his eyes, couldn't fight the feeling rising in her chest, the feeling spreading through her belly.
Her eyes drifted closed, but he held her chin up with one hand, forcing her look, stopping his motions when she didn't comply.
"Look at me."
There were sweat beads on her back, and she was desperately sliding against him.
She looked, powerless to do anything but obey. Her entire body was shaking, breaths erratic. It was climbing inside her again, and this time he was determined to drive her over the edge.
She might've screamed, her body rigid and taut as something inside her came apart.
The last thing she saw were his eyes, wild and dark.
And almost sad.
When she came to, they were both lying on the bed in silence.
It felt like she'd lost more than consciousness in those few minutes she can't remember.
There were three cracks in the corner of their bedroom ceiling.
There were three inches between them, but the distance seemed endless.
***
to be continued...