Page 68 of Yours to Keep
A cold shiver runs through me, not from fear, but from the certainty in his voice. The promise lands deep.
“And baby,” his thumb brushes my cheek, “that’s not a place he’ll want to be. I swear to you, I’ll protect you with my life.”
I close my eyes because I believe him.
The last thing I feel is the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my ear, the warmth of his arms holding me in place, and a single word I almost miss, but don’t:
“Mine.”
16
Eli
It’s been a month since I told CJ some of what I have been through. I let him tell Deck and Finn, and they immediately took his side. A strange warmth settles in my chest. Being protected feels foreign, like someone else’s skin, but I don’t hate it.
Apparently, I now require twenty-four-hour supervision. Their words, not mine. Part of me wanted to argue, and I did tell them they were being ridiculous, that I was overreacting. The words felt thin even as I said them, a cold ripple moving through me, betraying the lie.
They ignored me completely. So now, I rarely go anywhere without one of them. I won’t tell them that having them close feels safer than I want to admit.
The nightmares come less often these days. I sleep through most nights without jolting awake, gasping for air and searching every corner for threats that aren’t there.
I sleep because I know CJ is nearby in the apartment, in the room next to mine.
My thoughts screech to a halt.
Naked.
CJ is sleeping naked in the room next to mine.
Jesus Christ.
Heat rushes through me so fast it makes my vision blur. My breath catches, sharp and embarrassing. I’m so hard as I let my imagination run away with me. I push my hand beneath the waistband of my sleep pants and wrap my fingers around my cock.
“Fuuuck,” I groan. As my hand slides along my length, a shiver runs down my spine.
My breath hitches as I visualize those blue eyes, a crooked smile, a scar, that dimple, and those hands. God, those hands.
I remember the way they felt against my skin, my cock, the warmth of his touch, his scent, his taste, the feel of his tongue against mine, fighting for space.
My hips lift instinctively, the memory too vivid, too consuming.
I stroke myself harder, chasing the feeling, my hips lifting from the mattress to seek more friction. I close my eyes and let the fantasy take hold.
My breath comes fast and uneven. Every nerve feels awake, desperate.
Those hands wrapped around me, firm but careful, steady and patient. Every touch drives me closer to the edge. My pulse pounds in my ears as heat coils low in my stomach, tightening with every stroke as my hips snap upward.
In my mind, CJ is smiling down at me.“Come for me, Baby Boy.”His voice low and rough.
My orgasm crashes through me, making my whole body shake.
“CJ…” His name falls from my lips like a prayer.
Moans tear from my throat; The release feels like falling apart in the best possible way. It steals the breath from my lungs, and I groan, my head falling back against the pillow as I ride out the high.
Slowly, my breathing cools, and the intensity fades, leaving me sprawled across the bed, panting hard.
For a moment, I just lie there. Then the reality of what I’ve done catches up with me. I came with CJ’s name on my lips, his eyes in my head, his hands in every fantasy.
