Page 99 of Tell Me Something

“Do you want me to let you sleep?” I asked.

“Mm, you’re stealing my line and no, I want to keep doing this.” He peeled down my panties, and I felt his erection nudging up against my sex while his fingers found me wet and ready. “And this,” he said, sliding into me to the hilt.

“Oh, yeah?” I managed.

“I had to come to Vegas early. You’d think it’s been weeks, but it’s only been since last night.” His hips moved against me in measured rhythm while his hands reached around and kneaded my breasts. His fingers teased my nipples and then reached down, caressing my stomach.

“I was happy to get your text message. God, you feel good.”

“So do you. Come for me,” he groaned, rubbing my clit and increasing the tempo until I shattered all around him. He moaned, following me over the edge. Then he lay there inside of me, cocooning me fully while we both came back down off of our high.

“My Haylee,” he murmured, kissing the back of my neck.

I turned over and caressed his face. “Hmm, I like that.”

“Tell me something. Something you’ve wanted to tell me but haven’t. A secret.”

Did I dare? Maybe it was the alcohol or the amazing sex, but suddenly I had no filter. “Do you promise not to freak out?”

He smiled and looked a little wary, but nodded. “I won’t freak out.”

“I don’t know if you’re ready.”

“Well, now that you have me intrigued, you have to tell me.”

I felt the doubt creep up. “Maybe when I’m more sober so that I can decide if it’s a good idea.” I yawned and then found myself pinned down with him looming above me.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

“Or what?” I challenged, and then I was being tickled.

“Oh, oh, no, no. Okay, okay. Please stop.”

He relented and quirked a brow. “Spit it out.”

“Okay, but lie back down and hold me first. No more tickling.”

He cuddled me close and nuzzled my neck. “Haylee, tell me.” He tormented me by running a finger along my rib cage, causing me to giggle.

“I love you.” And there it was. I watched the words register, the surprise and intake of breath. “And before you do freak out or say something lame like ‘gosh, Haylee, I didn’t mean for this to happen,’ just know that I feel it, I said it, and that’s it. I don’t expect anything in return. Our time is still up when I leave for school this summer, and I won’t say the words again unless you ask me to.”

He expelled a breath. “I’m not freaking out.”

I wondered if he was trying to convince me or himself.

“And what do you mean you’re leaving this summer? School doesn’t start until fall.”

I was grateful he’d changed the subject, but even more pleased that he didn’t seem anxious for me to move away. “Most schools start in the middle or end of August, and I want to take some time to move there. Plus, I’ll take a couple of weeks for Australia, so I’ll probably leave New York in July.”

“You don’t even know where you’re going yet.” There was a hint of agitation in his voice. I guessed it was because, in his mind, he had thought September was the month, and I was speeding up the time table.

“I’m waiting to hear where I’ve been accepted. Matter of fact, I should receive the letters any day now.”

He absorbed this information. “Are you sure you want to go?”

I felt a pull and a desire that was tempting to explore, but I didn’t dare. In knowing that we had an expiration date, I had the control. I believed in short-term happiness and valuing relationships in the here and now. After my parents’ deaths, I could definitively say that there was no such thing as a truly happy ending. If I started to believe there could be, I wasn’t sure I’d survive the fallout when there wasn’t.

“Yes, I’m sure about school. Now it’s your turn. Spill it, Singer. Tell me a secret that I don’t know.”