Abbot wouldn't fuck me just for the sake of fucking, even though it was more than that to me. He didn't fully understand. I wanted to forget Derrick. I wanted Abbot to take those horrible memories away from me and bury them, but he didn't, he wouldn't. Instead, the skin I remembered on mine wasn't his, but Derrick's, and I hated it. Abbot was sexy with his messy hair and hazel eyes, and the way his lean muscles contracted when he slipped a shirt over his body. His occasional smiles turned me to sand, that slipped and filled his deep cracks. That man was the essence of sex, protection, and honor. Though I fantasized about being with him when those little instances of adoration and love escaped from him, something inside of me told me it wouldn't work. He was a brick wall that I couldn't smash through. I lay in bed for hours, waiting for Abbot to fall asleep, but he was like a soldier on a stakeout. Quiet and resolved, but I knew he wasn't asleep by the way he breathed, so I stayed calm and waited.
