Page 39 of Scars of Silk

But as he fills me up, sliding back and forth, a deep connection sparks within me and my reasons why he was the place I drove to tonight becomes achingly clear.

Releasing my arms, I slide them around his neck, pulling him down so I can slant my lips across his. A kiss. Our first. His fingers slip under my head, tilting my mouth to his, warm and secure. His hips slow, even though he stays inside me while his tongue teases through my lips, tangling with mine.

Within me, a wild sensation of belonging fills me, blooming through my chest, aching its way down to my extremities. I hold him tighter, breaking the kiss, I whisper, “Make love to me.”

He says nothing, but his expression for one moment is beautiful and sincere. I brush my fingers around his bruised face, across his lips, until my palm cups his chin. “Please.”

His mouth lowers down to mine and I inhale sharply as a kiss unlike any other consumes me from the inside out.

“My brother died, eight years ago.” The room is dark. It feels better, almost poetic, to speak my truths into the shadowy depth of night. My cheek is against Dan’s chest, his heart thudding under my ear. “You remind me of him in some ways.”

His fingers are stroking my hair, smoothing through the long strands tight to the tip before starting again at the root. “How come?”

“He was angry too.”

“I’m not always angry.” A light pressure lands on the top of my head as he shifts under me before lying back down again, his fingers picking up their regular rhythm.

“No?”

“Anyway, tell me more.” There’s a brief pause. “If you can.”

I nod, my lips pressing briefly against his head. His arms tighten like he’s holding me together while I speak. No one has ever tried to do that before. Maybe no one has ever heard me talk. Not really.

“I was at uni when it started.”

“With that guy?”

I shake my head slightly. “Yes, what an idiot. And Eli was there. We had a bit of a crowd, had a laugh. I didn’t go home that often.” I ignore the way Dan’s body stiffens at the mention of Eli. I can’t go there right now; can’t deal with his jealousy over Faith while he’s laying naked in bed with me. “But while I was away Will got in with a bad crowd, and really, mum didn’t know how to deal with it. My father has his own clear parenting ideas and Will just rebelled against it. In truth, I don’t think he could accept the life we lived: gloss and perfection on the outside, while behind closed doors there wasn’t a single thing that shone. He lost himself in drugs, using everything he could find.

“Dad booked him into hospitals, rehab, everything, but Will didn’t want help.” I stop talking. Shattered memories I’ve spent five years trying to forget batter me from the inside out. Mum crying on the phone, dad shouting, Will… Will just beyond caring.

“He said he was clean and arranged a visit to come and see me and Eli at uni.” A tear rolls from the corner of my eye and splashes onto Dan’s skin. His hands pause their stroking and instead he just places them on my head, firm and reassuring. I wonder is he knows just how supportive that is? “He wasn’t right, I could tell; but I did what the Richards always do. Turned a blind eye.”

Another tear.

“Eli told me he thought Will seemed depressed, vacant almost, but I told him that was just how he seemed after Dad laid into him.” I swallow hard.

“We went out. Will wasn’t drinking. I was so damn proud, until I found him taking pills. He told me they were to make him feel better, painkillers the doctor had given him along with some beta-blockers.”

I stop talking and just lie there with my face in my own tears on Dan’s chest.

“What happened?"

“They fished him out of the river two days later. The coroner ruled it an accidental death, but I know the truth, Dan. He thought he had nothing else to live for. He jumped. He didn’t slip.”

His fingers start their pattern again, his breathing regular. “That’s why you keep turning up at my house. You think I’ll commit suicide.”

“Isn’t that what the underground fighting was about? And the overdose?"

He doesn’t answer, not the longest time. “No. I just wanted to not feel.”

His voice is tight and I know he's holding back the truth; not just from me, but from himself. There’s a darkness in Dan I’ve seen before.

How can he not want to feel yet put himself through the agony of a fight that destroys him? He speaks first so I don’t have time to articulate my guess.

“You’ve mentioned your dad a few times. Does he hurt you? His body stiffens beneath me and while I think of my reply, I realise he’s holding his breath.

“Not me.” I blink another tear. “Will used to get it. When we were kids, it would be a belt for not doing what he was told, or a passing back hander. When we got older, I think Dad realised he lost his control.”