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“I’ve missed being intimate with another person. You go through life alone long enough and part of you just starts to feel dead inside. Without this kind of connection…” His cock stirred inside her but he also lifted their hands, palm to palm, interweaving their fingers. He shook his head. “…it’s like being thirsty and there’s nothing to drink. Months and months and maybe years, you can be surrounded by people, you can walk around all day long, but you’re dead. The spark’s gone out.”
In some traditions, you used sex as a way to worship God. The other person became your church. If you opened yourself up to them, you could connect in a way so much deeper than just at the physical level. Both to the other person and to the divine.
He wanted to say a hundred things to her in that moment. Like: Don’t you ever scare me like that again. And: I’m sorry for being an ass the last few weeks. And: Let’s both get out of these muddy clothes and celebrate being alive. While naked. And: I’m terrified I’m falling in love with you.
“Love you, babe. Don’t leave me again. Please.” He snuggled into her neck, his arm cinching tighter around her waist. “I’ll do anything. Just don’t leave me again.”
“You keep talking about how you run away all the time. But what if you’ve been looking at it all wrong? What if it’s not running away from the bad stuff? What if it’s more about running towards something good?”
They’d had to airlift Isobel to the hospital in Casper. Her injuries had been that severe. In her altered state, she hadn’t been clearheaded enough to put on a seatbelt. PCP. They found fucking PCP in her bloodwork. Not just a little bit, either. Her stepmother had poisoned her. With her birthday apple pie.
