Climb on My Stepfather (Ashley and Alex)

Chapter 86 18: Stella.

I sit huddled in the embrace of the cove, the wind carrying droplets of salt water and stinging my cheeks. The moonlight keeps the beach from being totally dark, but that didn't stopfrom stumbling and falling twice in the forest on my way down the path. I have blood on my knees and the heels of my hands, but I don't care. I'm numb. I'm shaking. I can't move. It took all of my strength to get here and now I'm a statue on the sand. A monument to being gullible.

A sob breaks from my lips and I draw my knees up to my chest, rocking, tears coasting down my cheeks and over my mouth, dropping off my chin.

Stupid. How incredible stupid can I be? I don't have a chance to answer that for myself, because I'm distracted by the roar of an engine. Once the hum cuts out, I sit, immobile, staring at the clearing, positive sdrunk students are going to cstumbling out onto the beach any moment, searching for privacy in which to make out. I never expect Gage to cstriding out of the woods, bare chested in football pants. "Stella," he chokes out, slowing to a stop and doubling over. "Oh thank God. Thank God you're okay. I found you." Even now, when I know the awful truth, my heart still clamors at the sight of him. "You should be celebrating," I murmur, dazed. Exhausted. Devastated.

"I don't want to be anywhere but with you." He approachesslowly. Almost cautiously. But his eyes...his eyes are wild. Bloodshot. When he glimpses the blood on my hands and knees, he turns as pale as a ghost. "You're hurt. You' re fucking hurt." "No, I'm not. I'm fine." He tears at his hair. "You shouldn't have chere in the dark-" "Stop." I cover my eyes. "Just stop." Quit acting like you care. It hurts.

A beat passes. "Stella, I can see you've closed yourself off to me. The way you're looking atis different and I can't fucking stand it, honey. Please don't do this. Please don't believe what that idiot told you." He falls to his knees in front ofand it's impossible not to acknowledge how gorgeous he is. How chiseled. A God draped in moonlight, fresh from victory. "I lied. I lied to them." He takesby the shoulders, shakinggently, the breath rattling in and out of his chest. "You showed up at practice and they...they were all lusting after you and it's arrogant, God, I know it sounds arrogant, but the fact that you lockeddown piqued their interest. No one has ever even turned my head. And they want to know why you did. They wanted to sample my treasure. And I couldn't allow it. I'd go fucking mad if someone laid a finger on you. So I tried to...1 told them I was only using you to repair my image, so they would fuck off and stop wanting what's mine. I messed up. I knew right away I'd messed up and I was going to fix it tonight. I was too late." A tear escapes my eye and he howls brokenly, throwing his head down into my lap and wrapping his sinewy arms around my waist "Don't cry. Oh God, please don't cry. I'm sorry." I play back his explanation in my mind. I play it back twice and I find...

I believe him.

There was a part ofthat didn't believe the receiver. There is no way to fake the kind of passion Gage and I brew together. But the hurt of that initial sting went too deep and I don't know how to repair myself. I've been wounded too severely by the lies to stop the bleeding.

"It's better this way," I say, not recognizing the dead quality of my voice. "We' re nothing alike. I'm not the girl who dates the quarterback—" "Yes, you fucking are! You're marrying him." "No." "No?" Bloodshot eyes lift to mine, swirling with insanity. My breath hitches. I'm right, aren't I? He would be better off with someone who didn't grow up alone.

Someone who has experience with being in the public eye. Someone who would look more appropriate at his side- He sits up, having gone very still. "Are you saying you're not going to marry me?" I can't answer. There's an invisible hand around my throat stoppingfrom taking it all back. Begging him to drivehome, despite the fact that I know it's wrong. That letting him go is for the best, right? No way I can be what everyone expects the wife of a famous athlete to be.

"Right," he says, the light going out of him. Like a candle being doused.

He stands up, turns, and walks straight into the ocean.

It takesa moment to piece together what is happening. I watch dazed as he wades farther and farther into the water. First, his hips vanish beneath the inky black surface. And then his huge shoulders. Gone. Followed by his head.

Several seconds pass and he doesn't cup. What is he doing? I don't realize I'm crawling toward the water until my knees protest the fine sand and rocks digging into my injured skin, but I keep going. Then I push myself up onto shaky legs and start running, throwing myself into the ocean.

He still hasn't cup. It has been at least twenty seconds. The shockingly cold temperature of the water barely registers, because my insides are much colder. I'm a block of ice and chattering teeth cutting through the water, screaming his name, trying to keep my eyes on the spot where he disappeared so I can dive down.

It's a terrible tto realize I've been foolish. Utterly silly. I love this man and I know he loves me. These are truths beyond a shadow of a doubt. His explanation about what happened with his teammates is not only plausible, it' s likely. Gage is possessive of me. Jealous. Protective. He would lie to his teammates to divert their newfound interest in me. And it turns out, he was sort of right to do so. Didn't that receiver hit onwithin a minute of making my acquaintance after the game? What have I done? I let my hurt feelings own me. I lashed out, let my insecurities win...and now? Could he die? Could he die because of me? Sobs wrench up and out of my throat as I flail around, searching for his solid body in the water. I take huge breaths and dive as deep as possible, unable to see anything in the jet-black ocean- My hand knocks into something smooth and I lurch forward, running my hands over shoulders, a neck, his face. "Gage," I scream into the water, pulling him with all of my might toward the surface. When we reach the top, I slug down oxygen and so does Gage-thank God-but his eyes remain dead.

Like if I let go of him, he'll sink right back down to the bottom. "Gage, stop this," I demand through shattering teeth. "I'm sorry I doubted you. I love you and I just want to go home. Please, I just want to go home." He continues to stare off into the distance until I say, "I'm freezing cold. I'm so cold." Those words are like shock paddles to my comatose boyfriend. All at once, he seems to realize I'm in the ocean, shaking, my skin turning blue and he makes an anguished sound, tuckingagainst him beneath one arm and kicking toward shore. "Stella. Stella, you're cold." It's not long before he is able to touch the bottom with his feet. He crushesinto his arms, leaping over waves until we hit dry sand. And then he begins to run, his breath loud in my ears. All I can dois cling to him and issue mental prayers of gratitude that I reached him in time. I don't think he would have ever cup. Oh God. Oh God.

The magnitude of what might have happened hitsall at once and I start crying. Loud, pitiful sobs into the crook of his neck. I cling to him tight, so he can't go anywhere. I hurt him so much, he wanted to die. How could I do that? How? Gage's steps grow uneven. "No. No crying. Please." His animosity toward my tears only makescry louder.

I hear the tinkle of metal and recognize the sound of his keys. We've reached his truck. Quickly, Gage unlocks the rear cab and setson the seat, leavingthere long enough to start the engine at the front of the truck and crank the heat. In a flash, I'm being gathered back into his arms, his hoarse breaths bathing my forehead. He cups my cheek in a hand, tilting my face up and scrutinizingfrantically. "Be okay. Be okay. Please be okay." "I-I'm okay." Not very reassuring when I can't unclench my teeth.

He issues a broken sound. "I'm going to strip you down. Body heat will help. It has to help." His hands are shaking violently as he peels off my sodden shirt, tearing off my bra when he can't undo the clasp right away. Then I'm against him again, his arms wrapped tightly around my body. He rocks me, wheezing, praying, cursing. "Con, honey. Con." "I should be more worried about you," I hiccup, my body pliant enough now to straddle his lap, Gage drawingas close as he's able, my jean skirt riding up around my waist, dripping with ocean water. "I want to warm you up, too," I say, tremulously, scrubbing my hands up down the hard contours of his back.

"You were down there longer than me." "I'm still down there, Stella. I'll be down there forever. I've lost you." I bolt upright in his lap, absorbing the total misery on his incredible face and a strip is torn clean from my heart. "No. No, you haven't." pressOur foreheads together. I'm sorry. Didn't you hear me? I'm sorry for running away and not waiting for an explanation. B-back on the beach, I believed you, but I was still hurting and feeling vulnerable, so I pushed you away. But I am the girl who marries the quarterback, if the quarterback is you, Gage. Please, I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it." He isn't breathing now. "You...you're mine again? You're coming back to me?" Hot tears rain down my face. "Of course I am." His chest begins to heave. "You'll be my wife, Stella?" "Yes. Yes." I've barely gotten my second yes out when his mouth locks onto mine. Tears slide down our faces and blend into the wetness of our kiss. A kiss that turns heavy, consuming and frenzied. I can feel both of us realizing how differently tonight might have turned out and we rejoice in finding our way back to one another. We glory in being back together with greedy sweeps of our tongues, restless hips and seeking hands.

"I'm so proud of your win tonight," I manage when we cup for air cupping his face in my palms. "You were amazing out there. You won. I knew you'd win."

He shakes his head slowly. "The real victory is getting to spend my lifen with you, Stella. His eyes glitter in the darkness of the truck, his heart beating loud enough to hear. "I'll never, ever hurt you again." "I know." Relief washes over his features, but his expression quickly grows heated.

Color suffuses his cheeks, his nostrils flaring. "You're definitely warm now.

Your cunt is meltingstraight through those panties." His hands travel from my hair, down my back to my buttocks, molding my cheeks in his hands.

"You need to ride my big prick?" "Yes," I gasp, my nipples peaking painfully, my femininity clenching.

Lubricating.

Our hands knock together to push aside fabric. Down chis football pants and my underwear. We surge back together, mouths clashing,sobbing, him whispering prayers. He fists his erection and I lift my hips, taking him insideone inch at a tuntil he's growling deep in his chest, his eyes rolled back in his head. "Jesus Christ. Going to have the tightest little wife in town, aren't 1? Showwhat I'm getting," he begs feverishly against my mouth. "Givea preview of the rest of our lives so I stop thinking about you leaving me. Please." Overcby love, lust, responsibility, adoration, I lean down and bury my teeth in

his thick shoulder, my lower body circling once, twice, three times until he's panting and then start to buck my hips, loosening the base of my spine so I can snap back and grind forward with the right amount of force and friction, pumping him in and out of me, root to tip.

"Fuck!" Gage shouts through his teeth, his hands on my butt, urging, urging, slapping. "You make it so perfect. You make everything perfect." "And you makehappy," I whisper, our foreheads meeting, eyes locking.

"That's all I want to do, Stella," he rasps, his voice heavy with emotion. "Let me." My lips curl into a smile against his mouth, a breathy moan leaving me, hips moving faster. Faster. "This is a very good start." His rich laugh washes overand then I'm being pinned onto the seat face up, my future husband looming over me. "You ain't seen nothing yet, Stella." The truck doesn't stop rocking for hours.