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“Then why were you ignoring me?” Her words feel like a stab to my stomach.
“I—“
“Don’t fucking say you don’t know what I’m talking about, Adrik, or so help—“
“Okay.” I hold my hands up in surrender. “I wasn’t going to say that…” I don’t actually know where I was going because the words have a mind of their own at this point. What am I supposed to tell her— that after we had sex, I felt like the weight of the roof had caved in on me? That my entire body was racked with such guilt I couldn’t even look at her? I have no intention of sounding like a fucking pussy, I want to be honest, she deserves that. But, I can’t talk to her when she’s like this, can’t bare to see the look in her eyes when she knows I’ve fucked her to get rid of her.
I convinced myself I was doing both of us a service for doing this, but after we finished, I couldn’t bare the pain it brought. And I’m embarrassed to even fully admit it to myself. So, I tried to shut it out, shut her out, and keep my eyes locked on the only thing in sight— the ceiling.
“I’m done.” She whispers when I don’t continue my sentence, when I just stand there like a fucking idiot, reevaluating everything I’ve ever done until this point.
“No.” I whisper back.
“Yes.” She stands her ground, not attempting to move.
“Espie, I’m sorry. You have to believe me. I—“
“What for?”
“What?”
“What are you sorry for?”
“I— for ignoring you… Is that a trick question?”
“No.” She shakes her head, wet lashes blinking down my chest, and I can tell she’s softened a bit, so I take her perfect chin between my fingers.
“I’m sorry.” I kiss her lips, and she doesn’t stop me. “I’m sorry.” I whisper again and kiss her cheek. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I say over and over again, kissing every inch of her tear, dampened face until a smile cracks over her soft lips and I kiss them again for good measure.
Her head is in my hands as I press my forehead to hers, and we just stare at each other for I don’t know how long before she whispers my name like a question.
I look into her eyes, and she nods gently as I wrap the blanket around her and guide her out the door. We make a silent walk back to the room, though I know if we were caught now, the jig is up. And maybe I don’t want it to be because I just had the most amazing sex of my life. That has to be it, we fucked so well that it’s messed me up a bit. I’ll be back to equilibrium in no time. After a few more nights like this one— minus the fight— we’ll part ways and all will be well for both of us.
We reach my room without running into anyone, which tells me that the boys clearly spread the word about leaving me and Espie the fuck alone. I open the door for her, and guide her into the room, hand on her lower back.
I feel her eyes on me as I look for clothes. No sense in lying, I kind of like it— am a little distracted by it, actually.
She is fucking hot in every way imaginable, and winning the title of the best sex partner, is probably going to be a tough one to shake. I glance over at her a few times, and she blushes. That makes me laugh. She’s blushing like she’s never seen me naked, like we haven’t fucked around for months or haven’t just fucked minutes ago.
“Are you cold?” I ask, standing to my feet and wrapping my arms around her waist. She nods to me through the mirror and I kiss her cheek before heading to my dresser and pulling out a large knit sweater from Givenchy— black with white embroidered detailing at the wrists.
I run back to her with it, and she turns to face me. She really is fucking perfect— her body could cure me of any addiction alone, but what she can do with it… Fuck, kill me now because I want to fuck her all over again.
Maybe I can drag this whole thing out just a bit longer. Just to get it all out of my system— the entire fucking and getting fucked the best I ever have. I lick my bottom lip as I toss the sweater to her, and she catches it, sliding it on with her arms raised, giving me a full view of every curve she has.
I blow out a heavy breath as she pulls it the rest of the way down and crosses the bathroom to me. Immediately, I scoop her up close to me, hands under her perfect ass as she grins up into my eyes.
“We’re getting married.” She grins, brows pulled together in disbelief, and that’s where my fantasies about fucking her all end. She can see the shift in my face, but I try to change the look, appear happy or at least shocked as well, but it’s too late.
“Sorry.” I whisper and she studies me, mouth dropping.
“What?” She attempts to pull away from me, but I hold her close.
“I’m not good with relationships.” I shake my head, endeavoring to form new words that won’t sound so stupid and weak, but she cups my cheek with her soft hand and forces me to look at her.
“I’m not either.” She shrugs, but she’s not the problem and I hate that she’s making it seem like we’re in the same boat because we aren’t. If anything, she’s perfect, and I fucked that up.
“Okay”, is all I whisper back, to keep from fighting for her value that I’ve failed to fully see until now— too little too late, I guess. Doesn’t mean I can’t pretend I’m in the same boat with her, at least a little longer, if only to let me get these fucking feelings out of my system. “Stay with me tonight?” I whisper into a kiss that she eagerly reciprocates.
