Impulses (55 page)
“Are you okay, Hayden?” I coax his head up to look at me, instead of the invisible spot on his shoe.
The air hisses between his teeth, his chest expands significantly as his lungs are filled to capacity. His degree of restiveness evident in both his body language and his eyes as his peruses every surface surrounding me, but is unable to look directly at me. I idly feel like Medusa.
Anxiety washes over me like a brutal torrent, piercing me with sharp stings of trepidation and I am reminded once more of the chronic flutters of butterflies in my stomach.
“Just um…I need a moment. Can you, um…sort the garland? I’ll be back in a minute,” he stutters and hesitates his way through his sentence.
I nod warily in acceptance. He turns on his heel and disappears out of the open-plan living room and down the corridor to the bedroom, while I’m left speculating as to the cause of the contrast of his mood.
Considerations spin around my head like a carousel. How can somebody be so lively then so distant? And why? If there is one thing Hayden usually is around me, it’s confident. But that look of shyness and reticence seared through me like a red hot poker through my chest. The last time I saw him look that way, was when he first told me about his nightmares; when he told me that the reason for his distance and his recoiling from me was due to him waking and hating me.
We didn’t spend last night together, did he have one then?
I shake my head to myself; no, he would have been vague and obscure before now if that was the case. And anyway, he promised that he would let me in to reassure him if he did fall victim to another heart-wrenching dream of infidelity again.
I place the events of the day into a mental timeline, every connection we have had, every look, every word that had been spoken, and the tone that shrouded them. I cannot place a solitary thought as to what could have triggered this change.
In an instant, I am floored by the speeding train that hurls its way toward my gut; this time last year, he was still in the relationship with Addison. Is he thinking about her? Is he remembering doing the things we have done today––with her? Yes, their relationship was futile and abusive with her sadistic tartness, but maybe he’s been reminiscing about the good times they shared together? Fuck, did I do something that reminded him of her?
This pattern association thing which keeps creeping up on us is becoming rather draining.
The feelings and notions that revolve around my mind overpower me with dread. My body expels all breath, I feel the distinguishable burning and bitter taste of bile rising. I actually believed that this Christmas was going to be perfect. How foolish was I to think that? Something always rears its ugly fucking head.
Stepping onto a small stool, I reach up to place the star on top of the tree. But for some arcane reason, I am unable to finish. Stepping off the footstool, a lone tear escapes my eye and trails its way lazily down my cheek, tickling the surface in an irritating way that leaves not only an itchy sensation in its wake, but also the sweet memory of Hayden trailing the rose up my body the night he first made love to me.
“It’s perfect,” his deep voice pulls me away from my heartrending assumptions, to which I’m beyond grateful.
Brushing the back of my hand hastily over my left-cheek to dry the salty residue that mars my face, I turn and focus my attention to the right-side of my trembling body, and on the incredibly sexy man who leans against the wooden frame of the corridor with his head cocked.
The top three buttons of his black, button-down shirt are undone, revealing the enticing ‘V’ of his chest and the glinting metal of his silver cross. His legs are crossed at the ankles, his dark mane slicked back, except for the sexy, rebellious lock which falls over his brow. And his eyes…those hypnotic, daring eyes which bore into my quaking, fidgeting form while I toy with the tree-topper in my hands, is like gazing into a lustful pool of melted chocolate, both tempting yet meaningful.
With his hands concealed behind his back, Hayden straightens his posture and begins stalking toward me at a catlike pace, closing the trivial distance between us which seem like miles.
“Are you okay, beautiful?” I don’t just hear the suggesting tone of his voice, I feel it draping over me. And the shiver which paves from the base of my spine to the nape of my neck commandeers my sense of foreboding.
I close my eyes effortlessly.
“Samantha, please don’t lie to me.”
Opening my eyes, I lick my cracking lips. “I just don’t like the company of my own thoughts sometimes,” I wince. My muscles relax under the heat of his compassionate smile as he towers over me, the heat of his body being the only form of contact between us.
“I forgot this,” he murmurs, and lifts his one arm from behind his back, holding it overhead. I flinch at the unexpected movement and tip my head back to observe the sprig of mistletoe hanging over us.
Lowering my gaze back to Hayden, I frame his beautiful, angelic and highly arousing face between the heats of my hands and press my body against the length of his. A growing sense of relief slices through my anxiety, stripping me of my insubordinate thoughts leaving me contented. I sigh dreamily like a young woman in love with her Prince.
Bowing his head, Hayden seals his lips over mine, and like always, the prickling, grazing sensation of his stubble upon my chin and surrounding my mouth sends a gush of desperation directly to my core.
His last kiss lingers against my mouth before drawing away.
Grudgingly fluttering my eyelids, I’m met with the sight of Hayden dropping charismatically onto bended knee. Wide-eyed and confused, I feel my heart assaulting my ribcage with its ruthless thumping, my breathing quickens, and my limbs feel disconnected from my body as they quiver with tingling numbness.
Grasping the fingertips of my left hand, his dark eyes gaze up at me lovingly.
What the fuck is happening?
“Samantha, I knew that there was something about you the moment I laid eyes on you––something special. I was dead, a hollow shell. But the best thing I have ever done is fall in love with you, the greatest gift you could ever possibly bestow me, is that of your love.”
Smiling down on him, I shut my eyes to obliterate the blurriness of my vision, as tears exit their restrains.
“Love can be described as a single soul inhabiting two bodies; you are my soul mate, Samantha. You had my heart the day I meet you, my body and my soul belongs to you…and you alone.” Reaching into his back pocket, Hayden draws out a small, blue, velvet box. Releasing my fingertips of his grasp, he holds the case steady, and pulls back the lid.
“You have graced my life with wondrous memories in our time together. Let us continue to create a lifetime more. Samantha Kennedy, will you marry me?”
In the moment of unmitigated shock, the gold star that resides in my right hand clatters to the floor with a reverberating sound. I subconsciously pinch myself in an urge to wake myself up. The feeling of light-headedness sends my world in a spin; I hear and feel my pulse through my ear-drums. With my legs feeling as though they are going to buckle and cave-in under my weight, I fight with all the strength I have to maintain my stance.
Marry him? Did Hayden just actually ask me to, marry him?
Scrutinizing him as he maintains his pose, all moisture from my mouth has ceased.
Am I dreaming?
I feel totally disconnected, as though I am a spectator in someone else’s life-altering moment. As my amazed, confounded and speechlessness begins to thaw, I inhale a cleansing breath, feeding my body with much needed oxygen.
Pushing my right hand through his silky, dark hair, my scrutiny softens to a tender gaze.
I lick my lips. “Yes, Hayden; of course I will marry you.”
Eyes wide and bright, he releases a breath that I don’t think either one of us realized that he was holding.
“Really, yes?” he asks incredulous, yet even his disbelief is no disguise for his elated tone, which has me beaming while nodding earnestly.
Removing the band from the protective, velvet slit, Hayden pushes it onto my ring-finger. Diamonds encase the shoulders of the white gold band, and a breathtaking, brilliant-cut diamond sits in the center. For a second, we both admire the glinting and iridescence of rainbow colors emitted through each perfectly-cut facet.
After placing a chaste kiss upon the diamond that adorns my finger, he shunts himself up from his knee. Drawing me into his arms promptly, he curls them tightly around my waist like a python constricting its prey. His jubilation is too much to repress and he clearly lifts me from the dark, hardwood flooring to spin us around, before setting me back on the ground.
Framing my face with his hands, he searches my eyes. “You…you really are going to marry me?” his rich, dark chocolate eyes moisten with contentment, yet still disbelieving my answer.
I nod overstatedly. “Yes, Hayden,” I smile.
“You’re going to be my wife?” he quizzes again; his face dampening as tears begin their descent.
Repeating my gesture, I nod once more.
With my face in his hands, he tips my head back and covers me with his mouth. I taste the saltiness of his tears as we lose ourselves entirely to each other; taking our time to strip the clothing that acts as a barrier between our bodies.
I seek every flexing muscle as Hayden shields and works against my body, and relish the perspiration that mist our flesh in our impassioned, all-consuming feat, as I disregard every negative speculation I was immersed by only a short while ago, and make love to my knight in shinning armor, my prince…my fiancé.
HAYDEN
The flooring is hard against my knees, but the coldness of the wood no longer shocks me. The fading glow of the lights adorning the tree is the only form of illumination in the room; the hue of our flesh varying, as the lights display their kaleidoscopic show.
It’s fascinating, the feelings that I am attuning to, knowing that there will never be anyone else that will see me naked, that I will only ever share this level of intimacy and affection with only Samantha, and the same vice-versa. It is a sobering feeling, which makes my heart expand and emotions run heated and wild.
With my ear resting on her chest, I inhale the scent of candy and sex which coats her flesh. Observing her racing heartbeat that matches my own, I close my eyes and release a barely audible sigh of contentment, as nimble fingers weave through my sweat-infused roots. Massaging my scalp in a venerating and cherishing fashion, Samantha softly combs through to the nape of my neck.
“Are you sure you want to marry me, beautiful?” I murmur contemplative as she cradles me with her left hand, whilst continuing her soothing strokes over my scalp with her right.
My head rises with her chest as she inhales profoundly and mutters my name on her exhalation. Inclining my head, I gaze up at her from my position between her breasts, while the wariness of her tone stabs through my flesh like a million needles.
With her plump lower-lip held hostage between her teeth, her just-fucked hair, glistening eyes, the alluring sheen upon her surface, and only wearing my ring, she is utterly bare…not naked, but bare.
“I can’t stomach the idea of being away from you for a few hours, Hayden. I want us to be together…always. I’m uncertain if it’s healthy to feel this way in any relationship, but it works for us.” Smiling, her fingers loiter through my hair, her gaze settling on their movements. “I have never been so sure about anything in my life.”
As silence falls between us, her smile slowly fades into oblivion and her eyes become hooded, darkened like a panicked mare. “Why? Are you having second thoughts?”
“Never,” hesitancy is absent in the firmness of my reply as I bolster my single worded promise with a gentle shake of my head. Reaching up, I press my mouth tenderly against hers once again.
Wrapping my arms around her waist, the white fully towel conceals very little of her sensuous body and tickles at my forearms and torso. Since our focus is solely fixated on each other’s wet and nearly naked reflections in the vanity-mirror, I rest my chin on her right shoulder and she cocks her head to the left.
Folding her long, dark sodden locks that appear practically inky black in between the surface of another towel, she begins to rapidly dry.
I’m held by her gaze, riveted by her mannerisms, the rolling of her tongue over lips that claimed every ounce of me in the shower, glistening ocean blue eyes that I could get lost in forever, the reddened shade of her flesh from the temperature of the torrent, the way her ass presses against my crotch as she leans into her hip. So many complimenting words to describe her, yet none of them are profound enough to utter.
“Stay with me tonight,” I whisper against the hollow of her ear while my hand slips from her waist, down to the edge of the Egyptian cotton towel that sits at her mid-thigh. Hitching it higher, I sink my hand in-between her wet thighs and an animated shriek ricochets around the tiled, vaporous room. Squeezing her legs together, she denies me any further access.
Placing the towel that she was using for her hair onto the counter that shields my washbasin, she spins on her heel and gazes up at me. Pushing herself up onto her tip-toes, she presses her towel-clad chest against my naked upper-body; the material that sheaths her absorbing and freeing me of the water beads that skates leisurely down my flesh.
She consumes me with deep, passionate licks, our tongues curl and tangle around one another in desperate need. In an effort to retract, Samantha sinks her teeth into the muscle, preventing my already reluctant intention of pulling away, and simply begins sucking on my tongue, gently at first, but then…oh, my, God…
My mind is overthrown with the sensations my body is inundated by as she toils with it seductively. The suction of my tongue being drawn back into the warmth of her possession is so provocative, so alluring. I imagine my heavy erection benefiting from those long, tantalizing, stimulating draws and my cock instantly twitches and hardens between us.
I grasp hold of her backside and sink my fingertips into the pliable flesh. The already diminutive towel rises higher.