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It’s amazing.
And it pushes me toward my own orgasm.
When I come, it’s like everything in the world suddenly seems at peace. It’s like everything comes together in a beautiful rush of happiness and joy. I close my eyes as my own pleasure satisfies me, and then I pull away from Polly. I turn her around so we’re face-to-face, and I cup her cheeks.
“What is it?” She asks gently, and I’m not really sure what to say just yet.
“You’re beautiful,” I tell her honestly.
“That’s sweet.”
“It’s the truth.”
“You’re perfect,” I say.
“Why are you flattering me?” Polly asks, cocking her head. “Jace, you don’t owe me anything, you know. I mean, I’m not under the impression that what’s happening between us is anything...you know...eternal.”
I bristle at her words.
So, she doesn’t think this is serious?
She doesn’t feel that what’s happening between us is magical?
Suddenly, I feel more than a little embarrassed.
I feel hurt.
And surprised.
And I wonder if this is just something that she’s saying to make me feel like she’s not expecting much. Does she think that when this thing is over, I’m just going to walk away?
Does she think so low of me?
“What does that mean?” The question burns when I ask it. It physically hurts to ask her, but I need to know.
Polly may not be a shifter, but she’s smart enough to understand that my tone has changed, and my body language is now terrifying tense. Everything hurts as I look at her and wonder what’s going to happen next.
“Jace, we just met,” she says, but she looks like a deer caught in the headlights. She looks like she hasn’t really thought this through and she’s not sure what to say.
“So?” I ask, cocking my head. “Do you often jump into bed with people you’ve just met?”
“What? No!”
“Then why me?” I ask. “Why would you climb into my bed, Polly?”
I don’t move when I’m speaking to her.
I hold perfectly still. I don’t want her to think about anything except for my words, so I stay put and let them sink in.
“You didn’t just sleep with me once, Polly. Once could be an accident. Once could be, we were both drunk and made a bad choice. Once doesn’t have to be extreme. You slept with me twice, though. The second time, at least, was something you decided on. That was something you wanted.”
“I know,” she says.
“So why are you acting like we don’t matter?”
“Jace, there is no ‘we’. I just met you. I mean, you’re the father of my best friend’s baby. Don’t you think that’s kind of weird? Don’t you think it’s just a little bit wrong?”
“Are you asking if I think it’s wrong to love someone because of their past?”
