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By the time that he pulled out of me, I was glad that he had planted me up on the counter because if he hadn’t, I was sure that I would have just slipped straight down onto the floor in a great big puddle of pleasure. I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t open my mouth, all I could do was keep myself propped up and wait for my jaw to stop shaking and my teeth to stop chattering.
He pulled the condom off and disposed of it quickly, and then lifted me off the counter and into his arms. He was so strong, and it made me feel so safe when I was with him in this way, like I could have spent a lifetime in his arms and never had to fear for anything as part of it. He smiled as he planted me down on the couch, and I sank back into the welcoming embrace of the soft pillows.
"That was..." I tried to find the words to tell him how I felt. I couldn’t. I supposed they weren’t important, not really – all that mattered was the way that he was looking at me, as he sank down to the couch to join me again. He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me once more, and even though he had just pulled out of me, I felt that tingle deep down in my guts again.
"You don’t have to say it," he murmured, assuring me. "I felt it too."
And with that, it was all I could do just to let myself get lost to him once more. I knew this wasn’t the deal that I had made myself, but how could I resist? If I was telling myself that I was never going to have this again, then the least I could do was enjoy it while it lasted.
We went to bed, and he fucked me again, and I came so many times that I lost count. My body was jelly beneath him, hopeless to his touch, and I let him tip me over the edge time and time again until there was nothing left but my body, his body, the way we could make each other feel. I had no idea how I had managed to keep away from him for this long. It felt ridiculous, looking back. But what felt even more crazy was the reality that this was the last time – even if he didn’t know it yet.
But the time that we fell apart, both gasping for air, on the bed, I knew in my gut that it was time for him to go. I looked over at him and felt that sharp start in my stomach, the one that told me that this was wrong. How could I turn him out onto the street when he had just – when we had just-
"What are you thinking about?" He asked, clearly sensing that there was something heavy going on inside my head, and wanting to ease the weight of it. I shook my head.
"Nothing," I replied, but I knew it was a lie. I had to tell him. I propped myself up in my bed and wrapped the covers around myself, not looking him in the eye. If I just didn’t look at him, then I would be able to make it through this unhurt, unpained. I could pretend that I was just reciting these lines and that they didn’t actually have any meaning behind them.
"I think you should go," I told him, echoing my words from the first morning that I had spent waking up next to him. I could feel his body tense beside me, and I felt a swell of guilt. I should have told him up front that this was how it was going to be. Not let him believe that there was a chance for more here.
"What are you talking about?" He demanded. His voice was low and I could hear the hurt in it. I tried not to look at him, but my eyes were drawn inexorably towards him once more. I wished that I had the strength to just tell him to go, but I was weak – so weak in the face of what I wanted to say.
"I think you should go," I repeated myself once more. The words were wavering as they came out of my mouth. I didn’t believe them, and I could tell that he had his doubts, too.
"Why?” He asked bluntly, and I finally looked at him. God, those eyes – those eyes did something to me that I couldn’t argue with. I wished that I had the strength to tell him the truth, that I wanted him to stay, that every part of me was begging me to allow him to remain here next to me, but I couldn’t.
Could I?
In the dark of this night, far removed from what the day might bring, I could be honest with him. Just this once. He had to know, he deserved to know. He had been so good to me, and I had to do the same for him.
"Joseph, I think I’m falling for you," I admitted. I could see his eyes shine with delight when I said those words to him. And I knew I couldn’t take them back, not now that they were out there.
"Abi," he murmured, and he reached across and brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes. "You know I’m falling for you, too..."
"This was meant to be the last time," I confessed, blurting out the words before I could stop myself. "Really. I wanted to move on after this. I thought this could be – well, I thought we could both get each other out of our systems, you know?"
"You really thought that would work?" He asked, smiling with incredulity. I sighed and shook my head.
"I guess not," I admitted. Now that I had a little space from it, I could see that all of this had just been an excuse for me to get him back into my bed again. Under the guise ofdoing better, but still – all this had just been an excuse I told myself to make it so that he could come back and be with me once more.
"I was going to kick you out," I continued. "I thought that was going to be the end of it, I really did."
"It couldn’t be," he replied, a fire in his voice; his accent came through sharper and stronger when he was being heartfelt, and I could hear that brogue on his tongue as he spoke to me.
"You know there’s something here," he told me fervently. "I feel it and I know that you feel it, too. I should have been more honest with you, I see that now, but you can’t deny it."
I pressed my lips together. I didn’t want to deny it anymore. That was the main difference. Even though I knew it could be dangerous, I wanted the whole world to know about us.
"I can’t," I agreed softly, and he leaned over and kissed me once more. And I thanked God that I hadn’t gone through with kicking him out, because the thought of making it through the rest of the night without him at my side was suddenly more weight than I could bear.
Chapter eleven
Our little secret
Icouldn’tbelievethiswas really happening. I just couldn’t believe it.
I had never in a million years thought that I would be the kind of girl who did something like this. I was the good one, always had been, not the one who...well, not the one who gave into her basest desires, and allowed them to get in the way of everything else that went on in her life.
But ever since that night with Joseph, everything had revolved around sex for me. I had never known anything like it in my life; I’d heard before that when women got older they came into their sexual prime, but I was sure that was just a myth married housewives told themselves so they didn’t feel too old and used-up.
