Forever Innocent
Page 36
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The chorus tore through my heart. I was home. We were home. All we had to do was decide that this was where we belonged. She had to forgive me for leaving. Then she had to know what I had done, and forgive me all over again.
I pushed the laptop out of the way and moved closer to her. The mattress dipped and knocked us together. She fell on me, and I held on. The moment to tell her had come a second time, and I had to be man enough to say the words.
Chapter 22: Corabelle
I had to tell him what I’d done. The only way to move on with my life was through his forgiveness. I could start with what happened earlier that day with Austin, then back to New Mexico State and my arrest, and then the worst of all.
He was looking at me with those blue eyes, like I was the only thing in the world, just the way he had always done. I had forgotten what that could feel like. How important it was to be loved like that. How it could heal.
“Corabelle —”
“Gavin —”
We both stopped at the same time and just when I thought we’d both laugh, instead, we both almost sobbed, coming together in a crash, his arms tight around me and mine gripping him like a lifeline.
It was too much, my need of him overwhelming, how hard I ached. He shuddered against me, and I could feel the emotion passing between us. For the first time in four long years, I thought — I can be that girl I once was. I can have hope. I can find happiness.
Gavin was home to me. Just like that night so many years ago, I looked up at him with a mixture of anxiety and certainty, and just like then, just like in the movie, I raised my hands over my head to let him start the journey all over again.
He never took his eyes off mine, but his fingers grasped the bottom of the white tank — God, the same type of shirt as that scene, I realized — and tugged it up and off.
“Corabelle,” he whispered, looking at me as if he’d never seen me before.
“I’m here.”
He pulled me in, letting our skin have its own reunion. His chest was hard and almost hot to the touch. His heart hammered against mine. I wanted him to kiss me again, needed it more than I’d ever needed anything in my whole life. He took his time, running his fingers up the back of my neck and into my hair.
His mouth was achingly close, his nose bumping against mine. Everywhere we connected, I felt fire. His tongue brushed against my lips, and I parted for him.
At first his touch was so gentle that I barely knew we were kissing, the sensation featherlight. Then his hand on my neck pressed me into him and we were back, tasting each other and as close as we ever were.
I never wanted to do anything else but feel his arms around me, our skin touching, and his mouth crossing over mine, delving into me as though I could pour myself into him.
Every emotion I’d ever felt was coursing through me, desire, need, joy, love, and even grief. We’d been through everything, through things people should never have to endure. No wonder we had fractured, blown apart. But we could fix it. We could get it back.
I wanted to be closer. I shifted on the bed, straddling his lap and locking my legs around his waist. The singer was right, I wanted to lose myself, fall into my one great love and just let everything disappear. He could do that. He’d been the only one who could ever do that.
His mouth never left mine as he kicked off his shoes. His fingers trailed across my spine, relearning every part of me. His thumbs made their way around, slipping into the curve below where our two chests smashed into each other.
Sensations splintered through me like lightning. I sucked in a breath and he moved, suddenly, like a panther, pushing me down on the bed. As soon as we were apart, he left my mouth to press kisses along my face and neck, dropping lower until he captured a nipple.
How could I have forgotten this, gone without? I arched against him, wanting more, needing him more than I thought possible. My hands went to his back, feeling each corded muscle, the angle from his chest down to his waist. He was so erect against me, pushing out against the silky shorts. I had never felt as bold as I did then, reaching for him, reminding myself of his length and breadth.
He sucked in a breath against my skin, his hands on my ribs. The song ended, so he reached around and closed the laptop, lifting it away from the bed and safely onto the floor. I could hear every rapid inhale, the silky sound of his palm running along my belly. He reached for the waist of my shorts, then hesitated, his gaze meeting mine. “Is this okay? Are you okay?”
The concern in those blue eyes sent another wave of emotion through me. He hadn’t stopped caring. He never hated me, like I thought. He just succumbed to a terrible time, riddled with what-ifs. “Yes,” I whispered.
He yanked on the shorts, bringing them to my knees, then dragging them the rest of the way off. My panties were simple, white cotton with an edge of lace. He ran a finger along the border against my skin, then followed some of the stretch marks across my belly. “I never knew about these,” he said.
“They showed up later.” I tried to cover them, but he pushed my hands away.
“They’re beautiful.” He began kissing each pale line, hip to stomach and back down again. “It’s proof that Finn was once here.”
Emotion welled up so hard that I didn’t think I could contain it. Gavin continued to press his lips into my skin, but when his fingers began to slide the panties down, I forgot everything else, overwhelmed with physical sensations, gentle touch, and painful need.
Then I was naked below him, the only person who’d ever seen me like this. He spread my knees and pressed his face against the inside of my leg, pausing there, his mouth against my skin.
I pushed the laptop out of the way and moved closer to her. The mattress dipped and knocked us together. She fell on me, and I held on. The moment to tell her had come a second time, and I had to be man enough to say the words.
Chapter 22: Corabelle
I had to tell him what I’d done. The only way to move on with my life was through his forgiveness. I could start with what happened earlier that day with Austin, then back to New Mexico State and my arrest, and then the worst of all.
He was looking at me with those blue eyes, like I was the only thing in the world, just the way he had always done. I had forgotten what that could feel like. How important it was to be loved like that. How it could heal.
“Corabelle —”
“Gavin —”
We both stopped at the same time and just when I thought we’d both laugh, instead, we both almost sobbed, coming together in a crash, his arms tight around me and mine gripping him like a lifeline.
It was too much, my need of him overwhelming, how hard I ached. He shuddered against me, and I could feel the emotion passing between us. For the first time in four long years, I thought — I can be that girl I once was. I can have hope. I can find happiness.
Gavin was home to me. Just like that night so many years ago, I looked up at him with a mixture of anxiety and certainty, and just like then, just like in the movie, I raised my hands over my head to let him start the journey all over again.
He never took his eyes off mine, but his fingers grasped the bottom of the white tank — God, the same type of shirt as that scene, I realized — and tugged it up and off.
“Corabelle,” he whispered, looking at me as if he’d never seen me before.
“I’m here.”
He pulled me in, letting our skin have its own reunion. His chest was hard and almost hot to the touch. His heart hammered against mine. I wanted him to kiss me again, needed it more than I’d ever needed anything in my whole life. He took his time, running his fingers up the back of my neck and into my hair.
His mouth was achingly close, his nose bumping against mine. Everywhere we connected, I felt fire. His tongue brushed against my lips, and I parted for him.
At first his touch was so gentle that I barely knew we were kissing, the sensation featherlight. Then his hand on my neck pressed me into him and we were back, tasting each other and as close as we ever were.
I never wanted to do anything else but feel his arms around me, our skin touching, and his mouth crossing over mine, delving into me as though I could pour myself into him.
Every emotion I’d ever felt was coursing through me, desire, need, joy, love, and even grief. We’d been through everything, through things people should never have to endure. No wonder we had fractured, blown apart. But we could fix it. We could get it back.
I wanted to be closer. I shifted on the bed, straddling his lap and locking my legs around his waist. The singer was right, I wanted to lose myself, fall into my one great love and just let everything disappear. He could do that. He’d been the only one who could ever do that.
His mouth never left mine as he kicked off his shoes. His fingers trailed across my spine, relearning every part of me. His thumbs made their way around, slipping into the curve below where our two chests smashed into each other.
Sensations splintered through me like lightning. I sucked in a breath and he moved, suddenly, like a panther, pushing me down on the bed. As soon as we were apart, he left my mouth to press kisses along my face and neck, dropping lower until he captured a nipple.
How could I have forgotten this, gone without? I arched against him, wanting more, needing him more than I thought possible. My hands went to his back, feeling each corded muscle, the angle from his chest down to his waist. He was so erect against me, pushing out against the silky shorts. I had never felt as bold as I did then, reaching for him, reminding myself of his length and breadth.
He sucked in a breath against my skin, his hands on my ribs. The song ended, so he reached around and closed the laptop, lifting it away from the bed and safely onto the floor. I could hear every rapid inhale, the silky sound of his palm running along my belly. He reached for the waist of my shorts, then hesitated, his gaze meeting mine. “Is this okay? Are you okay?”
The concern in those blue eyes sent another wave of emotion through me. He hadn’t stopped caring. He never hated me, like I thought. He just succumbed to a terrible time, riddled with what-ifs. “Yes,” I whispered.
He yanked on the shorts, bringing them to my knees, then dragging them the rest of the way off. My panties were simple, white cotton with an edge of lace. He ran a finger along the border against my skin, then followed some of the stretch marks across my belly. “I never knew about these,” he said.
“They showed up later.” I tried to cover them, but he pushed my hands away.
“They’re beautiful.” He began kissing each pale line, hip to stomach and back down again. “It’s proof that Finn was once here.”
Emotion welled up so hard that I didn’t think I could contain it. Gavin continued to press his lips into my skin, but when his fingers began to slide the panties down, I forgot everything else, overwhelmed with physical sensations, gentle touch, and painful need.
Then I was naked below him, the only person who’d ever seen me like this. He spread my knees and pressed his face against the inside of my leg, pausing there, his mouth against my skin.
