Page 69
“Holy shit,” he gasps. “I think I understand why your ex came so fast.”
Before I can laugh, he’s pulled my mouth to his and he’s kissing me hard, urgently, the same way he did between my legs. It’s not what we agreed to, and I just don’t care.
Once. It could mean one time, or it could mean one night. We can’t really make things worse, and...I want more. His mouth lowers, pulling at one nipple and the other. He’s already hard. I can feel him there, swollen against my inner thigh.
“Condom,” I gasp. He reaches toward his shorts, still hanging off his thighs and grabs his wallet. He tears the packet with his teeth and raises above me to roll it over his—predictably huge—length.
“Are you sure?” he asks, positioning himself between my legs. The way he’s looking at me right now—as if this is all he wants in the world, hits me deep in my gut. I feel empty for him, and my hips arch, pressing him into me before I’ve ever answered.
“Jesus, Tali,” he whispers. “I’ve wanted this for so fucking long.”
He thrusts inside me, and I’m suddenly full, so unbelievably full. My gasp is small, almost inaudible, but he hears it.
“You’re okay?” he asks. His voice is tight. He’s not moving, trying to let me adjust to his size.
“Yes.” I’m breathless as a sprinter. “God, yes. The, um, rumors were true.”
He gives a quiet, pained laugh, and then he begins to move. Push in, slow drag out. Repeat. I want to do this for the rest of my life. This and nothing else.
“It’s so fucking good with you,” he hisses, moving faster, his tight control starting to lapse. I love seeing him like this. I love that I’m capable of producing it in him, this lack of restraint. His fingers move to my clit, light but fast. He changes the angle of his hips and thrusts hard, hitting deep and in just the right spot.
“Aahh.”
Something opens up inside me, and no sooner has he begun than heat rushes up my body, my muscles stiffen, everything wound so tight I feel like I might snap in half.
“I’m gonna—” I gasp, and then I clench around him and my head digs backward. My back arches, pushing my breasts into his chest, intensifying my orgasm as I spasm around him, my core gripping him tight.
“Fuck,” he hisses, his thrusts jerky and hard and uneven and perfect. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Finally, he’s still above me, breathing hard. When his eyes open, he looks as stunned as I feel. I’m not sure why. Surely this wasn’t as radically different for him as it was for me.
My God. To think I almost went through life without this. Without even knowing it could be this way.
His lips find mine once more before he flops to my side and pulls my head to his chest.
“I’ll show myself out,” I mumble against his shirt.
His chest rises with a quiet laugh. His arm tightens. “I knew you were going to say that.”
And then there’s silence.
I still want more. But he just came twice in a row, and he’s gone quiet...undoubtedly because he assumes I’m now planning our spring wedding and choosing our children’s names. Any minute now, he’ll say something to place distance between us, to remind me what this was.
The mere thought of it makes my stomach drop. I need to extricate myself before it happens. I don’t want this to be awkward for either of us.
I sit up and fix my dress. “I’d say ‘let’s do this again sometime’ but I know that’s not your M.O.”
“Rushing off?” he asks. “Am I the new Brad Perez?” It’s phrased like humor, but there’s a bite to it. As if it bothers him, when we both know I’m simply saving him the trouble.
“Who will kick me out in the morning if I’m not available to do it?” I ask, climbing to my feet. There’s this desperate thing inside me that wants him to say this is different, I wouldn’t kick you out, I want you to stay.
“I guess I deserved that,” he replies. It makes me feel guilty, like I aimed too low, but it’s not as if he’s stopping me. It’s not as if he can argue I’m wrong.
My tread is heavy as I enter the house, like I’m fighting my way through mud. I wish I hadn’t rushed off. All I want in the world right now is to be curled up against him, and I just walked away from my only chance to do it.
As Matt said at the end, maybe I’m not as smart as I think.
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