Wings Over Poppies (Over #2) (30 page)

A muted chuckle rumbles in his chest. “What am I always thinking about? Or who?” He runs his hand down my jaw and tips his index finger under my chin. I lift up onto my knees and meet him eye to eye. “It’s as if I imagined you, and you miraculously appeared.”

He devours my mouth, our tongues twisting and tangling hungrily. All the while, I feel the rhythmic pumping of his hand near my stomach. I break the kiss, unable to resist licking his cock again, sucking gently before I break free. My hand slides between my legs, already slick and swollen for him.

“Up Alex, now.” His words leave no room for argument. I stand on shaky knees, and he whips me around, my back to his front. He grabs my hips roughly and lowers me onto him. I feel my hair fall to my shoulders, and I hear the clank of hairpins hitting the shower floor. His hand ropes my hair and pulls me back to him.

“Fuck, Alex. Having you wrapped around my dick, bare, nothing between us, just might be the death of me.”

West’s tongue runs up my neck, the rivulets of water running over my nipples, and the punishing pace of his thrusts rapidly drive me to the edge. The brutally raw pleasure borders on pain as West’s teeth sink into my shoulder, catapulting me to release.

My heated moans echo off the shower tiles, sounding foreign and primal to my own ears. I reach back, gripping the wall, West’s neck, his hair—anything to ground me.

We both come violently, West’s fingers between my legs, my hands pinching my nipples tightly. We slump onto the shower bench in a sated heap, both gasping for breath.

My senses slowly return as I lift from West’s chest and steady myself. Only then do I notice his leg.

My eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Why aren’t you wearing your shower leg?”

A flit of irritation crosses his features, but then he smiles to hide it. “I’m living on the wild side tonight.” He shrugs his shoulders and lifts me off his lap. “I don’t wear it all the time, Alex. It’s not a big deal.”

“Okay. Well, um, do you want me to grab your crutches, or maybe get your shower leg so you can get out of here without slipping?”

“I’ve been doing this on my own for two fucking years, Alex. I don’t need a nurse maid.” His tone is clipped, and I flinch at his words.

“I-I’m sorry. I was just trying to help,” I stammer as I open the shower door to create a bit of distance. Before I step through, his hand grabs mine and pulls me back in.

“Hey, I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t mean to snap like that.” He takes in a deep breath, and his shoulders slump in defeat. “I just need you to treat me … like it’s just me. Your instincts are going to tell you to help me with these things, but what I need from you, more than anything, is for you to ignore that feeling. Please don’t offer to help me unless I ask for it. It may be hard for you to understand, but it’s what I need from you.”

I lean down and place a quick kiss to his lips as I weave my fingers through his drenched hair. “No, I get it. It makes sense. It’s just like you said. I have this urge to help you, but I understand why I shouldn’t.”

“Thank you.” West nods, lips pressed firmly together.

I hesitate for a moment. “On that note, I’m just gonna—” I point to the shower door, and he nods again.

I go about the business of drying off, and I hear the faint noises of his movements behind me, but I leave him to it. I know he’s worked hard for his independence, and I’d never want to take it away from him. I dry off, wrap the towel around me, and cinch the corner to hold it in place. I turn around to find West sitting on the bench beside the shower, raking the towel over his head.

He grins huge and winks at me. “See, Alex, I’ve got this.”

I shake my head and laugh. “Yes, you do.”

I awaken to a huge intake of air, like a person who’s been under water breaking the surface, robbed of air for way too long. It jolts me awake, and I struggle to make sense of my surroundings. My eyes fly open in an instant, and that’s when I see him.

Frantic eyes, like a frightened animal, ready to bolt. He looks as if he’s run ten miles, gasping for breath and chest heaving, and I imagine he’s done more than that in his head. He’s pushed himself to the far edge, as far away from me as he can get. I resist the urge to rush across the bed and embrace him.

Get it together, Alex. Be his calm.

I relax my features and smile softly. “I’m here, West. It’s going to be all right.” I extend my hand to him and wait. If this is going to work, he has to meet me halfway. He needs to come to me.

Slowly, hesitantly, he reaches out to me. I clasp his hand in mine and scoot a few inches closer. I lay his palm firmly over my heart, and keep my eyes trained on his. I cover his chest with my hand. His body is slick with sweat, and I inwardly flinch at the hammering beat slamming against my palm. It’s a relentless pace, downright punishing.

But it’s alive.

“Breathe with me, West. Slowly, in and out. That’s it.”

Minutes pass, but it feels more like hours as the tension in his muscles eases bit by bit. His rapid pulse slows to an unhurried rhythm. The sweat dries, leaving his skin cool to the touch. His chest rises and falls in synchrony with mine. His frightened eyes gradually soften.

And then fill with unshed tears.

His arm curls around my waist and my body crashes to his as he buries his face in my neck. “I love you so much, Alex. So fucking much.”

I feel the air leave his body in a massive sigh. It’s cathartic. It’s an emptying of emotion—a release of pain and sorrow—so something new can take root in its place.

“I love you. More than words can express.”

He inches away from me to meet my eyes, and his are filled with determination. “If it’s ever too much … if the burden of me is ever too great—”

Softly, I place my hands over his lips, silently begging him to stop.

“Don’t you know? You are not my burden. Never.” I brush my lips lightly against his. “You? You are my gift.”

I stir slowly and reach across the bed for him, but I find only cold, crumpled sheets. I open my eyes and focus on the empty spot next to me. I sit up in the darkness, fold out of the bed, and search for him. I walk the hallway, checking rooms as I go. My search ends in the living room when I spot West sitting ramrod straight in a wooden chair, staring blankly out the window.

I pad across the room and kneel between his feet. I part his legs to inch closer, and only then does he become aware of my presence. His eyes soften as he reaches out to me, tucking my hair behind my ear.

“Hey. I didn’t mean to wake you.” His voice is a whisper, even though there’s no one else here to disturb.

I follow suit, keeping my voice low and intimate. “It’s okay. I missed you. I’ve gotten used to having you close.” I wrap my arms around his waist and lay my head gently on his lap.

We spend several nights together each week, and I toss and turn when I’m alone. After so many years spent apart, I crave the proximity. Sleeping without him makes me restless.

Something’s on his mind, but I stay silent, allowing him to work through it in his head. His fingers run through the length of my hair, and he glances down at me with a look that can only be described as despair.

“I only had a month left, you know.”

That gets my attention instantly. I try to lift my head to meet his eyes, but he resists, gently laying my head back in his lap. Some things are too difficult, too raw, to say face-to-face.

“It was a routine supply run,” he scoffs and releases a humorless laugh. “I was in the passenger seat. Bobby Redman, the best man I’ve ever known, was driving. I always thought it would feel different. Like I’d wake up in the morning and feel …
something
… a sense of foreboding or intuition. But it was a Tuesday, like any other fucking Tuesday.”

It takes all my strength to remain still. I want to hug him with all my might, squeeze out the bad memories, leaving only good. But his experiences make him my West; his scars make him unique and beautiful.

“Red was going on and on, like he always does … did … about nothing at all. He was enlightening me about how small, real tits were far superior to huge, fake ones. The last words he ever spoke were, ‘Seriously dude, all you fucking need is a handful.’” West’s hand stills in my hair and grips my neck. “He deserves better last words than that. He deserves … fuck, he deserves…”

After a few silent moments, he begins smoothing my hair again.

“There’s a lot of guilt, Alex. There’s a lot of guilt that comes with surviving.”

His admission slams into me, seizes my heart. I shoot up from his lap and grip the sides of his face tightly. Forehead to forehead, heart to heart, I say the words that I hope will help heal him.

“Never. The only thing you should ever feel guilty about is not living. You walked away, far from unscathed, and I hope you live every day as a testament to the power of second chances. That’s how you honor him.”

West inhales a sharp breath and releases slowly, and I feel his body begin to relax.

“You would have loved him, ya know?” I hear the smile in his voice.

I giggle softly. “I bet I would have. Hell, he’s a small tit man—that alone earns him big points in my book.”

“He would have hit on you shamelessly. I would have had to kick his ass.”

“I am irresistible, you know.” I shove his shoulder and cock my head.

No longer playful, West pulls me into his lap to straddle him. He rests his palm on the flat of my chest and runs his other hand down the curve of my cheek.

“Alex,” he breathes my name and blinks slowly. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life loving you. There isn’t a doubt in my mind, not even an ounce of indecision. This love … this life … this is my second chance.”

“
Never Stop
” by SafetySuit

“
Unbroken Promise
” by Erick Baker

Two Months Later

“DO YOU WANT butter or kettle corn?” I shout to Lucy from the kitchen, who’s sitting crossed legged on West’s living room sofa.

“Hmmmmm, kettle corn. Alex, this movie looks really old. Are you sure we can’t watch something else?”

I scoff at Lucy’s request and peek my head through the doorway. “
Sixteen Candles
is a classic, and it’s a must-watch for every teenage girl. Unless you want your polka dotted panties displayed for all the boys to see, you’ll watch and learn, girl.”

“Huh?”

“You’ll see!”

I hear her giggle trickling into the kitchen, and I can’t help but smile. This is Lucy’s second trip to Providence in the last few months, and I’m so happy to see her and West’s relationship making strides. West is a family man at heart. Every time he speaks to them on the phone or tells me about them, I can see how important it is to him to repair those bonds.

I carry the popcorn bowl and sodas into the living room and place them on the coffee table. I plop down on the sofa next to Lucy, and she throws the other half of her blanket over my lap.

“You know, Lucy, West never told me how he won you over. I know you were pretty angry with him about shutting you out.”

She bursts out laughing and grabs her phone off the side table. I scoot closer to her as she flips through an array of blackmail photos. The first picture is a pair of manly hands with purple nail polish and glitter polka dots. She flips the photo and a hairy foot with lime green polish comes into view. I pull the phone closer and squint to see a sparkling rhinestone placed on the big toe.