“Go eat your dinner, before it gets cold,” I say, in a thick hoarse voice. I wanted to make her dinner, give her more, but instead she gave me more than I deserve.
In a rare moment of compliance, she does exactly what she’s told and slides back into her seat. My racing nerves settle as she slices her steak with her knife and visibly savors every bite. Her shoulders relax, and she makes little happy noises. Those are my favorite sounds, and I want to hear her make them for the rest of her life. The rest of my life. But she won’t let me; not if I don’t keep her satisfied.
The weight on my chest slowly grows heavier, like three elephants sitting on my ribs. I need her to stay. Oblivious to my inner turmoil, she moves from the meat to the vegetables and shimmies her shoulders.
“I never eat like this unless I’m at a restaurant.”
“Why not?”
“Too much work. Cereal is faster and easier.” She pops a tiny potato in her mouth. “But I feel like I’ve been missing out.”
I almost say she doesn’t have to miss out, that I could treat her right every day. But she knows that. Instead, I eat and try to ignore the mounting panic I feel. It takes six hundred years for her to finish her dinner. Somewhere around the three hundredth year, I realize she’s doing it on purpose.
“How are you holding up?” She asks, catching on.
“I’m fine.” Her side-eye and the huff under her breath tell me she knows I’m lying.
After clearing the plates, I lead her into the living room and sit on my couch. As soon as my fingers touch her skin the pressure wains, the knot in my chest loosening. When my lips brush against hers, the pounding in my ears slows to a four beat. Each kiss calms me further. I can keep her for as long as I can satisfy her, and this is the first stage in doing that.
She slowly helps remove her shirt as I kiss down her neck and breasts. But as my lips move lower to her stomach, she tenses under my touch. It’s almost a flinch. I can’t see any injury, but there has to be something below the surface.
“Are you ok?”
“It hurts.”
“I’ll stop.” I pull away, but she reaches for me and touches my hair.
“No. I want to feel something other than the pain.” A surge goes through me. I can do that. I will always do that for her, if she’ll let me.
I lay softer kisses across the smooth skin of her stomach, paying special attention until I work further south and ease down her pants. My fingers search her core and the growing dampness between her legs. Once her body is bare on my couch, my lips wrap about her center and her moans encourage more. More and faster, building her to a crest until she cries out.
Then I use my finger, curving it, until I find that spot while kissing that tender part on her stomach again. She digs her nails into my hair. The pain focuses me, and if I wasn’t already consumed by her pleasure, nothing else could distract me. Her body quakes as she cries out. Her shoulder lifts off the arm rest and slams down with every violent pleasure. Two for one. I’ll take that.
The anxiety leaves my chest fully as I hold her in the afterglow. But as content as I am, her shoulder is red and scratched up. Fucking couch. I should’ve taken her to bed.
“Going down on me on a couch, how very high school,” she says with a satisfied grin.
“Let’s get you some place more comfortable.” Despite all my efforts, I still managed to hurt her. I’m starting to see why she only wants fourteen days with me.
CHAPTER 16
Alana
Day 4
The kids and parents made it back home last night—except for Izzy and Lance who flew out to Europe a few days ago. Everyone's happy, and the kids got a good night of sleep before Family Day at school. I’m excited to see them, but I won’t get a good breakdown of their adventures until dinner on Sunday night.
I’m re-reading Grae’s text messages from this morning. Is he cute? Does he make me feel cute too? Yeah. If we can keep this thing a secret for the rest of our lives, maybe it could work. Then a notification from my dad pops on the screen.
Dad: I’m picking out burial plots with your mother tomorrow.
I blink at the message a few times. Um… Okay…
Me: Why?
Dad: I’ve got one foot in the ground. I’m archaic, a fossil. I went food shopping today. You know why I love the grocery store?
Me: The in-store music plays all your favorite bands.
