Chapter Fifty Four

Aspen

My pulse drums in my ears as I pull mom's old car into the Jones driveway, beyond thankful over the last few months that she never got rid of it so that I could have some kind of escape outside of the monotony of home, school, therapy, and the part-time job that I managed to snag at a little diner in town a few days a week.
Sometimes, I just get behind the wheel and drive until my head is clear, losing myself in the miles that I put between myself and life, the sounds of the bands that Lincoln turned me onto blasting through the speakers.
Other times, I just drive to the park, lay out a blanket, and read on my Kindle beneath this huge sycamore tree until it gets dark out.
My palms are sweaty as I reach up to rock the key back, turning the ignition off. Then, dropping my hands facedown to my thighs, I wipe the moisture away.
I didn't tell anyone other than Mom that I was coming to Hawthorne, knowing that if I'd not told her, she would have had my head when she found out. And, she would have, there's no doubt in my mind about that.
After getting out of the car and walking across the drive, I find myself standing before the front door, that I've made my way in and out of too many times to count, my arm raised, fist poised to knock when I think better of it and lower my hand, grasping ahold of and turning the handle, finding it unlocked.
The house is quiet as I enter, and I wonder where Boston might be. The truck was in the driveway. So, I'm hoping that means that he's here somewhere.
After checking all of the rooms downstairs, including the entertainment room, where I did find the other three, who all quickly ran to greet me, pulling me into smothering hugs, I make my way upstairs to check his bedroom.
Stopping at his closed door, I gently knock but get no response. So, I quietly push the door open, but his room is also empty. I cross the room, breathing deeply, the smell of him enveloping me.
I notice that both bathroom doors are open and step through the small space that connected his room to mine.
Stopping in the doorway, my breath catches, tears filling my eyes as I find him curled up in my bed, his arms curled around one of the pillows as he cuddles it.
*God, I missed him,* I think to myself as I take him in, closing the distance between us and coming to a stop at the side of my bed.
Concerned that he may not be feeling well, I reach out, resting my palm against his forehead, when I find that he's not feverish as I'd feared, I brush my fingertips through the grown-out lengths of his hair, nothing that he desperately needs a haircut, and a shave too, if the thick hair covering the lower half of his face is any indication.
The action causes him to stir, turning over until he is laying on his back, stretching his arms up over his head, and smacking his lips, as though his mouth is dry.
"Aspen?" He asks, blinking his eyes open and closed several times as though he cannot believe his eyes as they take me in form head to toe, then back up again as I stand before him, wringing my hands together and fidgeting with nerves.
"Hey!" I say awkwardly, biting into my bottom lip as I give him a shy smile.
"Is it really you?" he questions, sitting up and tilting his head to the side in confusion, "you're really here? I'm not still dreaming?"
Biting back my nerves, I close the distance between us, lifting my hands to cup his cheeks as I lock onto his eyes, eyes that I have dreamt about since the moment that he walked away from me at the hospital three months ago. "You're not dreaming," I state softly, "It's really me. I'm really here."
"Thank Christ!" he growls, wrapping his arms around my waist and burying his head into my stomach. "Is this okay?" he asks, his voice coming out muffled as he mumbles with his face still pressed into me, instead of pulling back.
"Yes," I say, sighing happily as I run my fingers once more through the lengths of his hair, "I missed you." I tell him absentmindedly, "I missed your engulfing bear hugs," I continue, "I missed—"
I trail off when he pulls back from me, his hands gripping my hips as he asks, "What else did you miss?"
"I missed us," I tell him, dropping to my knees on the floor and cupping his face once more, my eyes flicking back and forth between both of his before dropping to his mouth—his sinful mouth that I have deprived myself of for far too damn long.
"Can I kiss you?" I ask, praying to anyone who is listening that I'm not too late and he hasn't moved on with someone else. "Is that—"
I don't even get the chance to finish asking the question before he's closing the distance, slamming his lips over mine, prodding with his tongue for entry, to take the kiss deeper. I open for him, clenching my thighs together when he releases a groan that goes straight between my legs.
"God, I've missed you," he growls against my lips as he wraps his arms around my thighs, lifting me as he stands, turning us and then placing me on my bed, and climbing over me, "I didn't think I would ever get you back," he whispers, pulling back to look at me as though he still can't believe that I'm really here. "That I would ever get to do *this* again," as soon as the words leave his mouth, he's trailing kisses down the column of my neck, then slowly peeling the straps of my flowy spaghetti strap baby girl top down my shoulder, nipping at the exposed skin.
"We should talk," I tell him, trying to steer this in a different direction while I still have the willpower to do so.
"We will," he mumbles, looking up at me, and the desire that I find staring back at me causes me to gulp, all of my resolve flying right out the window with that one look, "let me show you how much I missed you."
I nod, letting him know that I understand his need for connection, intimacy, the raw *need*. I know we should *really* talk instead, but I want him just as badly as he wants me.
A knock on the door interrupts us as soon as Boston begins removing my jeans.
"Sorry," Lincoln says as he enters my room, his hand covering his eyes as he slowly makes his way across the hardwood floor. A sound comes from Boston that almost sounds like a growl at the interruption. Lincoln holds up his free hand, a strip of foil packets dangling between his fingers, "I wanted to make sure y'all were covered." he says, grimacing slightly as soon as the words leave his mouth at the reference that we never were before and how that turned out.
"Thanks," Boston bites out, snatching the condoms from Lincoln, then proceeds to go back to removing my jeans. "We don't need an audience," he growls, looking into my eyes with barely restrained hunger within their sky-blue depths.
"S-sorry..." Lincoln stutters awkwardly as he turns around, drops his hand, and rushes from the room, the door shutting loudly behind him.
"That was rude!" I tell Boston as I reach for the button on the jeans.
"No," he grunts, gasping when I reach into his jeans, palming his steely shaft, "what was rude was him making me wait to have you again."
"Hey," I say, softening at Lincoln's thoughtfulness, “he was just trying to protect us," I tell him, pulling his cock from the confines of its denim prison, then continue pushing the rest of the material down his thighs.
"I know." Stopping speaking, he begins licking and kissing his way up my bare legs. When he gets to my upper thighs, he nips at me through the material of my lacy panties, causing me to moan with my own need for release.
"Fuck! I need you!" he growls, ridding us both of our remaining clothes before rolling on one of the condoms and sinking into me.
*This is where I belong,* I think as he stills after filling me, allowing me to adjust to him after so long.
"I'm not going to last very long, it's been too long. But, I promise that it won't take long for me to be ready to go again," he tells me as he begins thrusting into me.
Soon, I'm seeing stars and he's groaning out his own release.
*And he did* I think to myself, remembering his earlier words, *He definitely showed me how much he missed me.*
"I love you," he tells me, bringing me out of my thoughts as he places a kiss against my breast where my heart is.
"I love you, too."