Lost to You by - (best non fiction books to read txt) 📖

beneath the denim and cloth covering his body.

It was so screwed up, the direction my thoughts veered whenever the man was near, and he was never far because I couldn’t get him out of my head.

Here I’d told him nothing could ever happen between us, while I allowed my mind to go there, to imagine what his back would feel like under my fingers as I clung to him, what my bare skin would feel like against his.

I’d never desired before.

I’d been curious but less than enraptured by the idea of sex, then was left wholeheartedly disillusioned by it in the wake of the pathetic experience I’d had.

Until I met Christian.

Now it throbbed in my consciousness and skimmed along my skin.

I wanted to feel him.

But I sensed it deep.

He would break my heart.

Just sitting here, I understood somehow that he already was.

Slowly, surely, these little fault lines in my defenses were splintering.

Fissuring.

From across the table, I studied Christian, wondering how one person could shift something so dramatically inside of me, scare me and give me this joy I didn’t know what to do with at the same time. How did he make me feel the most insecure I’d ever felt in my entire life, yet manage to make me feel the safest in his presence?

“So, how’s your math class going?” Christian wiped a napkin over his mouth, sat back in his chair with a satisfied sigh as he pushed his plate away. Completely casual, he appeared to be unaware of the chaos he created in me.

“Okay, thanks to you.”

A smirk pulled at his mouth. “What would you do without me, Elizabeth?”

“Oh, I don’t know, find another cute boy to help me with math,” I said, anticipating his reaction if I teased him a little.

For a flash, his eyes narrowed. Then a dangerous grin spread across his face. “I’m just dispensable, huh? Easily replaced?” He hunched and lowered, pressed his chest into the table to meet me at eye level, this slow playfulness coming across him. “How about I let you fail next time?”

“Well, how about I feed you the wrong answers when we study for our next government test?” I countered.

He faked a disbelieving laugh, a gentle ribbing that twisted its way straight to my heart. He was so cute like this, like a harmless boy and not the man who made me fearful, not the one who urged me to hold on to my affections, careful not to let them go.

“You’re going to feed me the wrong answers, huh? You?” he challenged.

The entire meal, I’d felt his leg stretched under the table, reaching, giving in to casual brushes, then receding as if they hadn’t happened.

Now, Christian abruptly extended his leg, wove it between my legs, direct and bold.

My breath caught.

It was the closest we’d ever come to an embrace.

I averted my gaze but couldn’t for long because I could feel him staring at me.

His voice dropped. “You, sweet Elizabeth, the most innocent girl I know, are going to feed me the wrong answers? I bet you’ve never even told a lie.”

Heat flooded my face.

He was taunting me, prodding.

Is that what he really thought of me? Innocent?

But honestly, I guessed I was.

Well, maybe not innocent. Just inexperienced.

I had no idea how to play Christian’s games, no idea of what the girls he surrounded himself with were like, although I could only imagine. It had to be my greatest disadvantage. Vulnerability oozed from my consciousness, and I shifted in discomfort.

Christian could devour me whole.

His expression shifted as he edged even closer, his voice a whisper, “Just how innocent are you, Elizabeth?”

It was clear what he was asking, though I couldn’t tell what he hoped the answer to be. Those blue eyes flamed as he waited, his leg burning against the inside of my calf, the air in the restaurant thick.

I slowly shook my head.

“Not that innocent, Christian,” I whispered.

A long blink shielded his eyes, and something like disappointment flitted along the lines of his face before he swallowed and opened his eyes, searching. “How many guys have you been with?”

Embarrassment flashed over my skin, spread over my chest and onto my face.

I averted my gaze.

Why was he doing this to me? We talked so much, most often casually, though at times those conversations turned serious, delving into deeper subjects as we learned more and more about the other. It had always felt like a comfort to have someone to confide in.

But we’d never talked about this.

“Hey,” he murmured, his tone shifting, the softness in his voice coaxing me to look back up at him. “You know all about me.”

Christian lifted one hand, the grimaced smile on his face almost pained, and counted off with his fingers. “Six, twenty-two, or maybe seventy-four.”

They were like little contemptuous checkmarks lifted in the air. “I can’t count that high, remember?” he said. “I’m bound to lose track.”

He was clearly trying to make light of it, but the words held a distinct undertone of hurt. “Don’t you think it’s fair if I know a little bit about you?”

I blew out a slow breath, remembering how I’d put him on the spot before. Friends would know this about each other, anyway, but he and I both knew this wasn’t about us being friends.

“Just one,” I finally said, dipping my head down and to the side to hide the redness I knew would be there, though I couldn’t help but slant my eyes to watch his reaction. “He was my boyfriend for three years.”

I hated the heaviness that crept over me when I thought of Ryan, hated more that Christian had more of an effect on me than Ryan ever had.

“Of course, because I was fifteen and naïve when we started dating, I thought he was the one.”

A bitterness I’d kept concealed for too long broke loose. “He bugged me our entire senior year until I finally gave in right before graduation. I had sex with him three times and all three times were awful. Then he broke up with me. That’s it.”

I shrugged nonchalantly, playing it off as if I hadn’t just divulged the entirety of my pitiful experience with guys and that I hadn’t been a fool to fall for this obvious exploitation.

I was pinned to the chair by Christian’s sudden severity. My chest squeezed as his head tilted just to the side, the depths of that place I was scared to tread exposed.

“Do you still love him?”

I fumbled through the emotions Christian had crashing around inside of me for an answer, unable to discern how I felt. I licked my lips to steady myself.

When I spoke, my voice trembled. “No. I mean, it still hurts because of what he did. I was devastated for about a week, but it wasn’t hard to realize we didn’t have a future together. I just wish he would have broken up with me before he had sex with me. I can’t stop thinking about how stupid I was falling for it.”

“And the asshole didn’t even know how to take care of you,” Christian murmured, the assertion rough and abraded.

His eyes were a destructive force as he stared at me.

There was no questioning what Christian was thinking right then.

A lump grew in my throat, the air between us too thick to swallow.

“You have no idea how badly I want to track down that guy and make him pay for what he did to you . . . for treating you that way.”

His words knocked me back from the physical response flooding my body. I frowned at him. “How is that any different than what you do?”

He blinked a couple times and hefted the air from his lungs. Our faces were so close, I felt it rush across my face. “Maybe there’s no difference . . . I don’t know . . .”

He angled a hand through his hair and down the back of his neck. “But I’ve never told anyone I loved them or that I wanted to be with them so they’d have sex with me. I can’t tell you how angry it makes me that he did that to you.”

A tremor rolled through him, something palpable, more than jealousy.

I knew it then.

He truly did care about me.

This friendship was as real as I felt it was.

Maybe there was more to it. Maybe there was something to this simmering attraction that I didn’t know how much longer we could ignore.

But right then, this, him caring about me? It was what mattered.

Christian abruptly withdrew his leg and edged back in his chair.

Because we both understood it. The connection we shared was too important to ruin it by giving into the physical.

I faked a smile. “It’s fine . . . really. I’m over it. It was for the best. Believe me.”

Time