Talk To Me

22 || Born To Keep Running

Warning: Intimate scene ahead.

Time speeded up, and then slowed down again. Speeded up. Slowed down. Speeded. Slowed. Up. Down.

 Jared lifted me to his body and I straddled his hips. His mouth never left mine as he kicked the door shut and carried me to my bedroom blindly. Speeded up.

 Once in my room I tore open his shirt and he slammed me against the wall. I touched his burning, bare chest with a trembling hand and he breathed into my neck softly. Slowed down.

 He yanked my blouse over my head and I unzipped his fly. Down went my own jeans and off his shoulders went his shirt. Speeded up.

 He gently let me down onto the bed and I reached for his face. We kissed each other deep; his body pressed to mine, skin against skin. Slowed down.

 He tugged at my bun till it came loose and knotted his fingers in my hair. I pushed at his shoulders and clambered over him and raked my fingers down his chest till he growled. Speeded up.

 He pushed me to the bed again and his lips left my own. Hands caressed my waist; soft kisses trailed over my neck, my collarbone, my chest and my stomach. Slowed down.

 A groan ripped out of my throat as I dug my fingers into his scalp. His hands roamed restlessly over every inch of me till my skin was burning. I arced off the bed into his touch and his fingers kneaded the bare skin of my leg as he moaned my name. His hands fumbled inside the pocket of his jeans thrown on the bed and fished out a foil packet. Speeded up.

 His lips came over mine and I cradled his face. I wrapped my legs around his hips and felt his erratic heartbeat rivalling my own. He held me to him and broke the kiss to look at me.

 One blue. One green.

 Inhale. Exhale.

 Slowed. Down.

 Thunder cracked around us and we exploded into bliss. We raced against the rhythm of the rain hammering down on the roof. Speeded up. Speeded up. Up. Up. Up...

 Aaaand slow. Sweet, calming, soft. It was one of those times where forever is captured in a second.

 He let out a sigh, pressing a deep kiss against my jaw before rolling off me. I reached out, grabbing fistfuls of sheets and pulling them close to me as I willed my still shuddering and burning body into a sitting position.

 He watched me lazily, head propped up on one hand on the pillows. "Someone doesn't like to spoon after doing the dirty."

 "That's because this someone likes to talk after instead." I pushed back my hair from my face—trying to steady my trembling hand—and brought my knees up to my chest, hugging them. "Spooning's not fun with a screaming brain."

 I held his gaze squarely. He looked so damned; so perfect, with my marks all over him. A hickey purpling on his taut shoulder, crescent-shaped marks of my fingernails on his back, lips swollen with my kisses, hair all over the place as I'd raked my hands through it over and over again. I'm pretty sure his scalp was bleeding.

 Like my mind was. Bleeding with unanswered questions.

 And uncontrollable lust.

 Fuck. Get it together, Harper.

 "I listened to the recording," I said, tearing my eyes away from his chest.

 His smile slowly vanished and he noticeably tensed. "And?"

 "You're an asshole," I replied, and waited for his face to darken with shame before adding, "but I get why."

 His jaw set and those sinful lips flattened into a thin line, before he turned away from me and faced the ceiling, pushing one hand through his hair, running it over his bleeding scalp; his bleeding mind. "She knows. At least, she thinks she knows. She's finally remembered what I didn't want her to remember."