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He slid inside her, hot and hard, filling her so completely that it took everything she had not to scream because it felt so good.
“Just for the record,” he said. “I bought those condoms yesterday.”
“Because…you knew this would happen?”
“Because I hoped it would happen. Prayed, even,” he said on a strained laugh. “Sorry, I don’t…I don’t think I can wait any longer.” Then he began to move.
Allie wrapped her legs around his waist.
“Yeah, just like that,” he urged. From somewhere in the deliciously foggy haze that was her brain, she realized Tom was whispering in her ear. Telling her how beautiful she was. How much he’d missed hearing her laugh. How much he wanted her. How much he’d always wanted her.
If he had to talk during sex why couldn’t he just talk dirty? Why did he have to be so darn…sweet?
She didn’t love him. And he certainly didn’t love her. But something was happening here. Besides the sex.
And it was in that moment that she realized what that something was. It was like all these years her heart had been in some kind of deep freeze. Stored away neatly in a big zip lock bag, just waiting for Tom Donalan to come along and thaw it out.
She slapped her palm against his mouth, causing his entire body to go still.
“Shut up. This isn’t… It’s just sex. And for the record, you’re wrong. I’ve had lots of sex. With lots of guys. So this doesn’t mean anything.”
The instant she said it she wanted to take it back. But she couldn’t and a part of her didn’t want to anyway. Damn him. Why did he have to make this all so personal?
The corners of her eyes dampened. She squeezed her eyelids shut. It was one thing to let him see her cry because she’d been worried about Claire. She’d forgiven him for what had happened twelve years ago, but she’d never forgive him if he made her cry now.
He didn’t move or try to remove her hand. He was waiting, she knew, for her to open her eyes again. When she finally did, he was staring down at her with a gaze as hard as the rest of him.
She eased her hand off his mouth. Now it was his turn to say something. But he didn’t say a word. Instead, he began to move again. Long, slow, delicious strokes that seemed to go on forever. And it was Allie who began to talk, like a patient in the middle of a delirious fever, spouting off whatever nonsense popped into her head.
Afterward, they both lay completely still. Tom carefully rolled off to the side and began pulling his clothes back on. It was the most awkward moment of Allie’s life. She didn’t know whether to apologize for telling him to shut up, or thank him for giving her the mother of all orgasms. Thankfully, she was too winded to say anything at the moment so she didn’t have to make a decision.
It was Tom who spoke first. “Big girls don’t cry?”
“What?” Allie finally managed to say.
“That’s what you said when you came. Big girls don’t cry. Not sure if that was a compliment. Although, by the way you were heaving around I’d say—”
“It’s a song. You know, from the sixties?”
It occurred to her that he was now fully clothed, while she on the other hand…so she started pulling her clothes on, too. “I got that old Frankie Valle song stuck in my head.” She glanced up at him. “That ever happen to you?”
“I can honestly say I’ve never had Big Girls Don’t Cry stuck in my head.”
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“Okay, so maybe not that song in particular,” Allie said. “But you know? Something else. A song you just can’t seem to shake no matter what.”
An odd expression flicked across his face.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, it’s definitely something.”
“How do you know it’s something?” he challenged.
“Because I just know. So you might as well tell me because I’m not going to let it go until you do.”
