Bared Souls Page 9

  I squirm in place, suppressing a smile. “Apostrophes are important.” I raise my gaze, chancing a glance at his beautiful face.

  He takes my hand in his and runs his thumb over my palm. “Alma,” he pleads, and I have this intense, immediate need for him.

  “I don’t know.” I look down.

  With one finger, he lifts my chin to meet his eyes, and his intoxicating gaze traps me, like it does every time. He closes the gap between us and crashes his lips with mine. He kisses me, and I kiss him back. It’s no longer a question. I want—no, I need to kiss him. I blame it on the hormones and need running through me, but I want to lose myself to him in every possible way. His lips send me spiraling into a haze of lust and desire.

  He boxes me in with his arms, and his lips continue their sweet assault. He kisses me thoroughly until my entire existence is nothing but want.

  He moves his palm beneath my shirt, and I squirm at his touch, his hands hot and searing. I want him to brand me so that he never forgets that I am his and he is mine. That’s what this has all been leading up to. We both know it. We can’t say we didn’t try to stay apart, but the pull between us is too strong.

  He works to unbutton my pants before pulling down the zipper of my jeans. I breathe heavily as his fingers drag across the skin above my panties.

  His nose nuzzles against my ear before he whispers, “Tell me to stop.”

  I ignore his command.

  “Alma, tell me to stop.” His voice is almost pained as one of his fingers dips beneath the elastic of my cotton underwear. He gathers my need for him and teasingly glides his finger over my opening.

  “No,” I whimper, my hands clinging to his sides.

  A guttural sound leaves his throat, and he kisses my neck as his finger enters me. My hips push up against his hand on instinct, and I moan into the lust-filled air.

  “Leo,” I cry out as his fingers work faster.

  “Say it again,” he pleads.

  “Leo.” His name is a breathless plea for more.

  I ache for a release I’ve never felt but one I know he can give me.

  He removes his hand, and I groan in protest.

  “I want to taste you,” he declares, his dark gaze on me. He rips my jeans and panties off in one fluid motion, and he slams his face between my legs, flicking my clit with his tongue.

  I release a cry as his hands grasp my thighs, and his tongue works its magic.

  “Yes! Oh my God, Leo,” I yell, frantic for him to keep doing what he’s doing because a warmth, a sensation is building in my core, tickling its way through my entire body. It aches but so good.

  I run my fingers through his hair and hold his head tight to me. He growls against my sensitive skin, almost primal. My hips rock as heated chills shoot through my limbs. Releasing a half-sob, I cry out as I’m assaulted with enormous jolts of pleasure.

  Leo licks until my body stops shaking. I open my fingers, freeing my grip on his head, and my arms fall to my sides, heavy. He kisses up my body and lies beside me, circling his arm around my stomach.

  “Stay with me tonight,” he implores, his words almost desperate. “Just to sleep. Please.”

  “Leo …” I hesitate with a sigh.

  “Please?” he asks. His breath pebbles my skin. He kisses my neck.

  “Okay,” I agree.

  Leo climbs off of the couch and hands me my panties. I sit up and put them on, leaving my jeans on the floor. He swoops me into his arms and carries me upstairs. I rest my head against his chest, the rhythm of his heart beating a gentle stroke against my cheek.

  He sets me on the bed and removes everything but his boxers. “I have extra T-shirts if you want,” he offers.

  “Okay.” I nod.

  He removes a black T-shirt from one of his drawers and hands it to me. I quickly remove my bra and top and throw his shirt over my head. It falls to my thighs.

  “I have an extra toothbrush too.” His words are timid, and I get the sense that he thinks I’m going to bolt at any minute.

  I should run and fast, but I don’t want to. I search deep within myself to find that voice that will steer me in the right direction, but I’m met with only acceptance. My truth is simple: I want to stay here with Leo.

  Leo’s in the master bathroom, leaning over the sink, brushing his teeth. The muscles of his back are mesmerizing, and I force myself to look away. He hands me a new toothbrush, and I squeeze the toothpaste on the bristles and bring it to my mouth.

  He watches me in the mirror with a shy smile. I grin back.

  After brushing my teeth and using the bathroom, I shoot Quinn a text to let her know that I won’t be back tonight before I climb into his king-size bed. He gets in after me and moves toward me until his front is pressed against my back. Wrapping his strong arm around my waist, he draws me in tight against him. He cradles me, our bodies a perfect fit.

  I’m comfortable, warm, and sated, and sleep finds me fast.

  Just as my dreams are pulling me under, his voice, full of sorrow, whispers, “I’m sorry,” into my hair.

  SIXTEEN

  Leo

  When I wake, she’s gone, but the smell of her still lingers on my sheets—a reminder that she was here. Last night proves I’m a bigger asshole than I thought I was. I’m going to taint her innocence with my bad intentions.

  I’ve been a semi-functional human being for three weeks. Why do I think that’s sufficient enough to pursue someone good, like Alma, when I’ve lived twenty-one years of being straight wrong? I’m weak. My father made sure I knew that at a young age. I’m not strong enough to walk away, not from her. So, I’ve convinced myself that I can be better—for Alma.

  Maybe I can hold my shit at bay for a while, but it will creep back up. It always does. The level of baggage that someone like me brings to the table will drown her and beat her down until she breaks.

  Yet I’m selfish. I’m an asshole, and I want her. Scratch that. I need her. I don’t understand why she has such a strong hold on me, but I’m positive I can’t walk away now. Not anymore.

  Grabbing my phone from the end table, I check the time. Shit. I’m going to be late for my first class. Old me would’ve said, Fuck it, but new, phony me knows it’s better to show up late than not at all.

  I have several classes to get through, and then I’ll see her at tutoring. I wish I could see her now, but I’m positive she’s already in her class.

  As I get closer to Alma’s tutoring office, I wipe my palms against the front of my jeans. I’m nervous as hell to see her. What if she’s come to her senses? More importantly, why am I a weak-ass whiner when it comes to Alma, and why am I not bothered by that fact?

  I turn the handle and step in. Alma’s already here. She stands from the table as I close the door behind me. She’s nervous too. I don’t blame her. She never knows what she’s getting with me. Angry? Jaded? Aloof? Kind? Charming? I treat her differently every time I see her, but that ends now. After last night, I decided that if she wants me, then I’m going to pursue her because I’m a selfish fuck.

  I drop my backpack on the floor and step toward her. “You were gone this morning.”

  “I had class.” Her voice shakes.

  “I had a great time last night.” I cup her face in my hands.

  She releases a breath, relieved. “Me too.”

  Bending down, I pull her face to mine and kiss her. She splays her hands against my abdomen and leans into the kiss. I pull away and place a kiss on the tip of her nose. A small smile forms, lighting up her brown eyes. With the sun shining in through the long windows of the office, I can see tiny flecks of gold scattered within her irises.

  “We really should exchange cell phone numbers,” I say, dropping my hands from her face. “I wanted to text you all day.”

  “Yeah, it’d be helpful,” she agrees, more upbeat than she was moments ago.

  We swap phones and type in our numbers.

  Pulling up her name, I type, I miss you, and hit Send.


  Her phone buzzes, and she reads the text, a wide smile crossing her face. “I’m right here.”

  “I know, but I miss your lips.”

  She playfully smacks me. “Later. We should probably do some work. I am getting paid to help you after all.”

  “Later?” I tease, quirking an eyebrow.

  “Maybe, if you’re lucky. Now, get out your work. Focus.”

  I do as commanded and let Alma help me on an assignment. To be fair, she pretty much does the work, and I stare at her. Have I mentioned she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen?

  “I think we’ve done enough. Let’s go back to my place and order dinner,” I suggest, tossing my laptop into my backpack.

  She chews on the inside of her lip. “I don’t know.”

  “What are you afraid of?” I ask her.

  She chuckles dryly. “Honestly? You.”

  I nod. “That’s fair. How about this? We’ll order some dinner, chat, hang out a little, and if you want to go back to the dorm, then you go. No pressure.”

  “If I want to go back?” She eyes me in question.

  I opt for the truth. “I slept great with you there with me. If you wanted to stay the night, we could just sleep again. I promise not to hit it home.”

  She looks to me, confused, and I explain, “I’m just saying, I’ve rounded first, second, and third, but I won’t hit a home run until you want me to.” When her eyes bulge out and her cheeks turn red, I throw out, “If you ever want me to.”

  “Just go.” She motions toward the door. “I’ll do dinner. That’s all I’m committing to right now.”

  We leave the library together.

  “What do you feel like eating?”

  “I’ve really been craving Thai lately.”

  I search for a local Thai place on my phone. “Perfect because I know the best Thai place.”

  “You seem to know all the best places to eat.”

  “Well, when you do nothing but eat out for two and a half years straight, you learn,” I say.

  “I can cook for you sometime,” she offers.

  I tilt my face down to see her. “You can cook?”

  She grunts, “Yeah. Growing up, if I didn’t cook, I didn’t eat. So, I learned quickly.” I wait, hoping she continues, and she does. “Taking care of a child didn’t come naturally for my parents. So, I pretty much raised myself. I figured out right from wrong by watching what my parents did and then choosing to do the opposite.”

  This little peek into Alma’s childhood throws me off. I assumed someone as put together and, well, perfect as she is must have had amazing parents. She’s even more impressive to me now.

  “Tell me something else about your childhood,” I urge.

  “There’s not much to say. It wasn’t great. My parents and I aren’t close. I spent my childhood working my ass off to get out of there. The only person who truly loved me is my best friend, Amos. He’s the guy you saw dropping me off yesterday.”

  “I’m sorry. That kind of sucks,” I tell her.

  “Eh, it is what it is. Others have it worse.”

  “Yeah, I suppose they do.”

  We walk past the frat house and cross the street. I unlock my front door and stand aside, inviting Alma in.

  We drop our backpacks, and I order the food.

  She takes a seat on the couch, and I plop down beside her.

  “Come here.” I pull her head into my lap. “Tell me more. I want to know all about you.”

  “What do you want to know?” she asks as I run my fingers through her long hair.

  “How’d you meet Amos?”

  Her face lights up as she talks about her next-door neighbor. There are mud pies, cookies, and mutts involved. Gummy sharks and secret meetups are mentioned. I listen and continue to play with her hair. I much prefer this conversation to the one about her parents. The way that she talks about Amos, I can only be grateful that she has him. She deserves to be loved, and I’m glad she found such a great friend. Her bond with Amos is like mine with Ethan, though admittedly, she and Amos seem closer. Ethan and I don’t have special pet names and handshakes with each other because … well, mainly, because we’re dudes. Girls are always extra like that.

  “Why do you want to be a teacher?” I ask.

  “To make a difference. I want to be a mentor to kids who might not have support at home. I had Amos, and thankfully, I can learn easily. But what about the kids who don’t have anyone and have learning challenges? What are their options? Everyone deserves someone to cheer them on in life. I can be that for them, you know? Plus, I really do just love learning and teaching. Education is fun for me.”

  “You’re an odd one, Alma.”

  “That I am. You think you can handle me?”

  “I’m going to try.” I grin down at her. “Did you know that Alma means soul in Spanish?”

  She nods. “Yeah, my mom’s parents were from Venezuela. She speaks Spanish.”

  “Really? What’s your whole name?”

  “Almalee Hannelda Weber.”

  I choke on a laugh and cover my mouth. “Almalee Hannelda? Man, that’s a mouthful. Your parents really did hate you, didn’t they?” I kid.

  “I told you.” She shrugs and then goes into the story of her name, which is fascinating.

  I like the idea her parents had of combining names, and even though her name is different, it fits her perfectly. She’s unlike any woman I’ve ever met, and she should have a unique name.

  “It fits you, your name,” I say. “You could never be an Emma, Olivia, Ava, or Sophia.”

  “Why? I could pull off a Sophia”

  “Nah, they’re too common, and you’re anything but.” I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.

  She blushes and changes the subject. “Enough about me. What’s your story? Start with this house. No one your age has a house like this.”

  “My dad bought it for me.”

  “Pretty nice dad,” she says.

  “He’s anything but. He’s a horrible person. Money doesn’t mean you’re good, and it definitely doesn’t mean you’re happy.” My tone is harsher than I intended.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  I cut her off, “It’s fine, Alma. It’s just that my dad is one of the worst humans alive, and my mom and brother are right behind him. I’m not close with my family either. But that’s the difference between us. Where you used your adversity to make you a better person, mine gave me an excuse to be worse.”

  Now, I get it. I am the darkness that lurks in the shadows, and she is the light. My shadow of a soul can only exist where there is light. Without her, I’ll keep slipping into the blackness until I can’t find my way out. Alma, with her soul of goodness, is my one chance at anything resembling happiness, and I know that I’m selfish enough to take it.

  SEVENTEEN

  Alma

  The scream jolts me awake, and I fling off the blankets in a panic as I gather my bearings.

  His voice is pained as he cries, “Please, no! Please, stop! Stop! No!”

  His agony is visceral, and tears well in my eyes at its sound.

  Leo.

  I spin in bed to face him. “Leo.” I grab ahold of his shoulders and shake him. “Leo, you’re dreaming. Wake up.”

  His body is rigid, petrified as he whimpers, still trapped in the nightmare playing in his head.

  “Leo!” I scream, desperate to free him from the demons.

  He gasps and bolts up into a seated position. His chest heaves as his vicious breathing calms.

  “Alma?” he murmurs, confused.

  “I’m here,” I reassure him, bringing my palm to his cheek. He leans into my touch. “It was just a nightmare. It’s okay.”

  “Alma?” he utters my name again.

  “It’s me. I’m here.” I pull his head against me and brush my fingers through his sweaty strands.

  “Please don’t leave me,” he implores, terror saturating his words.

 
; “I’m not. I’m right here.” I kiss his forehead. “Shh,” I whisper. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  He lies back down against his pillow. “I need you,” he sighs before sleep pulls him under.

  I scoot in next to him and wrap my arm around him. My fingertips drag lightly against the skin of his forearm, and I listen to his deep breaths.

  What has this beautiful man been through?

  My heart shudders as I think about what kind of trauma would cause that level of pain. The raw hurt that radiated through his cries was evidence of his torment.

  I’m unable to fall back asleep, so I lie here. Listening. Thinking.

  The past couple of days have been great. Leo’s been normal and kind. I can’t help but get my hopes up that things could be real between us. It’s clear that we’re drawn toward one another. The crazy attraction we have is palpable, a tether between us that keeps us connected. I don’t understand it, but it’s there. I feel it every time I think of him.

  Last night, we sat at his table and did homework together, like a regular college couple would do. He was true to his word that he wouldn’t pressure me to do anything sexually. We kissed and cuddled and kept our clothes on. As much as I love when he touches me, I need to know that we’re more than that. The second that Leo’s hands and mouth are on me, I can’t think straight, and I question if what I’m feeling is real or simply lust.

  I want to be with Leo. Perhaps it’s a bad call, given our history, but I can’t deny that I do. I need to trust that he’s in it, truly in it with me. I need stability, and I’m terrified of falling in too deep with Leo because he seems to thrive off of chaos.

  My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I hurriedly reach over to turn it off. Leo grumbles behind me, waking up.

  “Morning.” He nuzzles into my hair.

  “Morning. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” I say.

  “It’s fine. I have class too. How’d you sleep?” There’s no hint of the fear from his nightmares in his voice.

  “Good. You?”

  “Great, because you’re here,” he answers, his arms wrapping me into a hug.