To Hold and to Heal (BWWM Interracial Romance) (13 page)

             
He stroked her hair. “For right now, we're going to sleep. For more than a few hours. And in the morning I'm going to pick up your prescription and make you eat breakfast. And then we can figure out the answer to that question.”

             
She leaned back on the bed. “Why do you get to decide?” She smiled and let her head hit the pillow. “These are much softer.” She suddenly felt loose and sleepy.

             
“We’re going to decide together. Tomorrow. After we've had some sleep. Move over.”

             
“No I really like this spot. You walk around.”

             
He laughed. “You're going to make me walk around the bed? Me?”

             
She giggled, already floating away She listened to the sound of him standing and moving across the room. He turned the light off in the bathroom before settling into the bed besides her. She turned, laying her head on his chest. His heat filled her, warmed her, chasing away the chill of the air conditioning. He rubbed her shoulder, kissed the top of her head. “Goodnight, baby,” he whispered.

             
She grunted back, drifting away.

***

Alden woke her with breakfast. She pulled herself up, rubbing her eyes. “What time is it?”

             
He kissed her temple, sliding down on the bed with her. She leaned against him. “Ten thirty. I didn't know what you liked so I got you pancakes. I figured everyone likes pancakes.”

             
She nodded, wincing when she tried to move. Her body was sore, everything ached.

             
“Do you want to talk about anything?”

She shook her head, only pulled herself closer to him.

“Then we won't.”

             
“Does your leg hurt?”

             
“Terribly. But you probably knew that already.”

             
“I'm sorry about knocking you to the floor. I didn't think. I thought you were going to kill him.” She looked down at the bruises on his knuckles.

             
“I was. I truly think I was. I was planning to take you to dinner. Chinese because it's what you keep asking for. The door was locked and I could hear him yelling and you weren’t making a sound. All I could think about was getting through the door and making sure you were alright. And you weren't okay. Because once again I wasn't there in time. Because you were alone. Again.”

             
“You're not just talking about last night.” 

             
“It's my fault. All of this is my fault.”

             
“It's not your fault, Alden.” His hand stilled on her back. She moved against him, taking his face in both of her hands. He was frowning slightly, his face was warm, his cheeks freshly shaven. He smelled like aftershave. “It's not your fault and you have to stop blaming yourself for all of these things. I read your letters. All of them. Don't you think you've suffered enough?”

He moved to pull out of her hands, to disagree. “I think you have, Alden.  I think you have.”

Nice moved to kiss him. Alden reached up to stop her, gently touching the side of her face. His fingers were hot on the sensitive bruises. She pulled away, reaching up to brush aside his fingers. Old feelings of rejection and loneliness flooded her.

“Now the bruises on the outside matches the hurt on my inside,” she said softly, turning away.

             
“You need to look at me, Nice. Baby, look at me,” Alden pleaded.

             
She turned back to him. His eyes were locked on her, searching her face. “There's only you,” he said, pulling her face to his. His kiss was hot against her. She pushed his mouth open with hers, hungry for him, his touch. He pulled her onto his lap, holding her close, his mouth finding her neck, his hand in the hollow of her back. She sighed against his touch, wanting him, needing him.

             
His phone rang. Loud and rude against their solitude. He stopped and regretfully pulled it out of his pocket. “I have to take this call. I'm supposed to be working right now.”

             
She nodded at him, letting him lean back against the bed, the space between them filling with cold air. “Hello?” he answered. She moved to climb off of him and he stopped her, his thumb trailing over her hipbone before squeezing her thigh.

             
She smiled at him, bending and kissing his neck. He stroked her hair as she moved lower beneath his collar. She used her good hand to unbutton his shirt. His conversation was dull background noise. Her lips brushed against soft hairs, she felt his breath hitch as her tongue found his pink nipples, teasing him. He leaned his head back, breathing hard on the phone.

“I'm fine,” he said to the caller. “Just fax the files. I'll take care of it.”

             
Slipping into the space next to him, she ran her fingers over his stomach, the hairs were soft, his breathing deep and even. She loosened his belt, pulling it out of the buckle. She watched his eyes as she unbuttoned his pants and slipped her hand into the space, finding him already hard and waiting for her. She pulled his pants down past his hips until they were at his knees. She stroked him slowly, watching his eyes close. His answers to the caller became single words.

             
Leaning close to his ear, she whispered, “I want you. I want you to make me feel something.”

He told the caller he had to go, hung up and let the phone drop to the floor. She climbed back on top of him, the phone buzzing against the carpet. He pulled her mouth to his, kissing her hard. His need melted her. She could feel her desire rushing. He pulled her shirt up, breaking the kiss for a moment to reveal her body to him. He ran his hands down her side. He slipped his hands into her panties moaning as she rocked against him. “I need these gone now,” he growled underneath her.

             
She smiled at him, his need evident. She moved off of him, pulling on her underwear, slipping them off. She quickly climbed back onto him, his cock nestled underneath her. He moaned. She moved against him, watching his eyes. He cradled her face in one hand, holding her hip in another.

             
She moved slightly, letting him slip inside of her. She gasped as she took him gently, letting her weight push him deeper inside of her. She moved slowly against him leaning forward onto his chest, completely forgetting about her hand. She pulled up quickly as pain shot through it. He caught her, rubbing her back, kissing her gently, urging her hips to move. He whispered, bringing her closer to him, letting her lean against him, balancing her weight against him.

             
“Baby, look at me,” he moaned. His green eyes locked on hers, intense, needing. “I want you to see how much I want you,” he said.

             
“You have me.”

Her hips sped up as his eyes fluttered closed, his breathing quickened. She leaned into him, pressing her breasts against his chest. She kissed his cheek, his ear as he held her hips down, keeping himself deep inside of her.

             
She felt her orgasm building, her moans and breathing mixing with his. Their desire building until as one they came, the climax washing over them both. Nice kissed Alden's closed eyes before gingerly slipping off of him. He reached for her as she slid her naked body under the covers keeping her body close to his.

             
Her hand and bruises were a dull ache. He kissed her forehead, letting her drift for a moment.

“Oh no, you don’t Wake up,” he said, laughing.

             
“What?”

             
“Wake up. Eat your pancakes and take some medicine and then you can go back to sleep.”

             
She dragged herself into a sitting position and he handed over her breakfast. She opened the styrofoam container revealing a still steaming pile of pancakes covered in butter and syrup. Her mouth watered involuntary as she dug in.

             
“Are you going to share?” he asked.

             
“No! You should have got yourself some if you wanted it,” she said, stuffing a huge bite into her mouth. “Did you get any orange juice?” she asked, around her full mouth.

             
“Were you raised in barn? Wait until you swallow to speak,” he said, handing her a carton of orange juice.

             
“No, not a barn, a bar. By a man who was a functioning alcoholic. Or should I saw non-functioning alcoholic.”

             
Alden reached into the container with a fork and stole a piece of pancake. Nice cut her eyes to him. He shoved the fork into his mouth. “What about your Mom? I thought she passed when you were sixteen.”

             
“My mom had Hodgkin's Lymphoma. She was dying for as long as I can remember,” she answered.

             
“I'm sorry, darling. You don't have to talk about this,” Alden said, touching her hand.

             
“No, it's okay. It's old news now. At first she was sick from the treatments. And then she gave up on that and she was just sick.” Nice shrugged. “And then she wasn't anything anymore.” She smiled sadly at him. He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off, changing the subject. “Who was on the phone?”

             
“That was my secretary. It's Tuesday and I'm not in the office to do payroll so everybody is in a panic.”

             
“Fuck! What are you still doing down here? That's important!”

             
He laughed and kissed her. “It’ll get done. She has my check signature stamp and knows how to do the payroll. Besides, right now this is more important.”

             
She rolled her eyes, stuffing more pancakes into her mouth. “You're an idiot.”

             
“A fool maybe,” he agreed. 

             
They ate together, laughing and enjoying each other until Nice drifted back into sleep.

***

             
“I have to go back home now,” Nice told him from the bathroom doorway. She was wrapped in the huge hotel robe, leaning against the door frame. Alden looked up from his laptop, his eyes half-shielded by his uncombed mop of hair. “I've been here for three days, Alden. Three days!”

             
He leaned back on the couch and brushed his hair back. “Come sit with me.”

             
“Three days, Alden,” she said again, walking across the room and sitting with him on the couch. “Don't try to change my mind.”

             
He opened his arms to her. She slid into his embrace. “Not long enough,” he said, kissing her forehead.

             
She rolled her eyes. “Stop it. We can't stay like this.”

             
“Like what?” he asked, rubbing her arm.

             
“This! In this bubble. We both have responsibilities and the bar has been closed for days. I have to go back to my life. I have employees and I need to do something about my Dad. I can’t stay holed up in this hotel forever. I have to do things!”

             
“Do what?” Alden lifted her face. “Be with me?”

             
“No! This isn't about us. This is about my life!” she half shouted, throwing her hands in the air.

             
He laughed softly, deep in his throat. “So there is an us?”

             
Nice wrapped her arms around Alden, his warmth sinking through the terry cloth of the robe. She put her legs over his and he stroked her bare thigh. “I don't know,” she finally said with a sigh.

             
He nodded, pulling her closer. “This is what I want. You. This. All of it.”

             
“Hotels? Take out?”

             
His hand slipped up under the robe. “No, not hotels and take out. I want to take you home with me. Back to Maine.”

             
“I already told you to take me home,” she said, leaning against him, letting him run his hand over her thigh, cradling her hip. She could see his pulse in his neck. The shadow of stubble was beginning to form on his cheeks. She ran her finger along his jaw line. He sighed at her touch. “What would I even do there?”

             
“Anything you want. You could sleep all day. Read trashy magazines. Bake. Decorate cakes. Go to school. I don't care! As long as you're with me, I don't care,” he said, catching her hand and kissing her fingertips. “What would you like to do?”

             
“I don't know,” she replied honestly.

             
“I love you, Nice,” Alden said softly.