Their Broken Pieces by Jessica Gomez

Chapter Thirty-Four

Jasmine

 

 

As I flip through the movie selections, I chance a glance at Alex. He’s leaning against the headboard, his dark, tattooed, muscular arms behind his head. His eyes are closed, hiding the melting chocolate color, laying those long, beautiful black lashes against his cheeks.

A burst of bravery engulfs my chest as I scoot closer and tuck myself against his side, feeling a little self-conscious in doing so. Every time I get close to him, the all too familiar stampede of butterflies bombard me. He stays where he is, relaxing further and breathing deeper with our contact. At his response, I follow suit. I cannot comprehend how I’m ever going to walk away at the end of this week. Palpitations constrict and crack fissures along the walls built around my heart just thinking about it.

My eyes drift back to the screen, surfing through channels without paying attention. A comedy is best. Something funny, and that’ll distract us from the impending expiration date that we’ve set upon ourselves.

I click on The Wrong Missy. Dad and I watched it for one of our movie nights and I laughed so hard I snorted soda through my nose. The wicked witch, aka Margret, was out with some of her friends, so we actually had an enjoyable time. I hit confirm to purchase, and the screen says the movie will start in five minutes, giving me enough time to get my munchies together.

I toss the remote next to Alex’s leg and lean up to the bags of goodies we’d bought at the convenient store. As I open the bags and ice cream, Alex comes back from la-la land.

“What’d you pick?” He leans up, eyeing the junk food.

“The Wrong Missy, have you seen it?”

“Nope. Don’t watch TV much anymore.” He snags a bag of mini snickers and lays back against the headboard, dropping the bag in his lap.

Tired of leaning over, I drag the bags and jug of ice cream next to us; this way, I can remain snuggled next to Alex. “The TV said the movie will start in five minutes.” I’m rambling, because the message is still on the screen, plain as day for him to read himself. “So it should start in a couple of minutes.” I internally roll my eyes. Smooth, Jasmine.

The jug of ice cream sits perfectly in my lap as I rummage around for a spoon. Strawberry cheesecake ice cream is the love of my life, possibly the second love now. The thought curls my lips and blushes my cheeks, sending butterflies on the vacation of their lives, fluttering wings at rapid speed. They’re causing havoc on my nerves, so I waste no time once the spoon is located and slather it in yummy goodness, popping the frozen dessert quickly in my mouth. The first bite sends a heavenly taste across my buds, curling my toes, and drawing a salacious moan from my lips.

Alex chuckles while watching the scandalous things I’m doing with my mouth before asking, “Good?”

“Mmhmm.” It’s all I can muster. Seriously, this ice cream is going to give me a foodgasm.

His smile’s plastered to his lips when he resumes watching TV, just as the movie starts. I scoop mouthful after mouthful of ice cream into my mouth because of those damn butterflies. You’d think the awkwardness would have disappeared since I had his dick in my mouth, but it’s only gotten worse, because all I can think about is trailing this ice cream across his mocha skin and licking it off slowly. Brain freeze overrides my soft porn fantasy, cooling the sensors that are shouting to toss the ice cream aside, straddle his hips, and ride him into butterfly heaven to join them on their paradise vacation.

Jesus, get a grip, Jasmine.

I set aside the ice cream, since it’s enabling these intense—but amazing, heart-pounding, panty-melting—desires. It’s considered a dangerous weapon, and I don’t trust the creamy goodness in my hands any longer.

Alex fluffs his pillows and slides them closer. When he leans back and wraps his arm around me, tugging me close enough to feel his heart beat next to mine, I melt with his warmth like the gooey chocolate of his eyes. The nerves and tension evaporate with each passing second that we touch, giving me the chance to relax. Something that I’ve not truly done since Jace was alive.

The movie is as funny as I remembered the first time, and Alex seems to enjoy it too, laughing full-bodily throughout. His soothing presence works all too well, and I’m practically asleep halfway through the show. I’m vaguely aware that it’s over when Alex leans away from me to shut the TV off with the remote. A small, pouting whimper escapes my lips when he extracts himself from my grip.

He leans down and whispers, “Shh, I’ll be right back,” then gently brushes a kiss against my lips.

The small contact is enough to pacify me until he returns moments later, shutting the light off, sliding back into bed, and pulling me onto his chest. My body relaxes instantly, and a sigh escapes all on its own as he traces small patterns across my skin. I’m almost completely under as my breathing slows and deepens when he whispers. It takes a moment to register what he’s saying, and that he believes I’m sleeping.

“How am I ever going to let you leave?” he murmurs against my hair. “I’m so alive and content when I’m with you, near you. Hell, even if I see you across a room, a peace settles over my nerves and rough edges. I haven’t felt this whole since my papa, Marisol, and Jace was alive.” His fingers slide from my arm to cradle the glass pendent that holds my brother’s ashes. “I miss them so much.” He chokes on the words. “I wish we could stay here forever, just like this.” He exhales. “What am I going to do?” He slides farther down, pulling me tighter against his chest as he presses his lips softly to my forehead and holds them there, as if savoring the sensation of my skin. “Te amo. Tú eres mi vida y haré cualquier cosa para protegerte. Sleep well, angel.”

Sleep doesn’t allow for questions. Instead, it drags me down into a black abyss, where the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest is the only balm that soothes my soul.