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I scribble out a note and leave it next to her phone on the nightstand.Come camping with me Saturday?I want to relive that last trip as many times as I can before I leave. She’ll say yes, I know she will. It makes me unsettled to think of her in that way, obedient and seeking to please, but I’ve noticed the tendency she has to bend to the will of others. It’s how that kid Peter got her to do his bidding.
The sound of my keys scraping along the table as I pick them up rouses her. “Where are you going?” she asks in a sleepy voice.
“Heading out. I want you to get a good sleep.”
She rubs at her eyes and then focuses on me. “I sleep best when you’re here with me.” And now I’m thinking that maybe I’ve gotten it all wrong. Maybe she’s got me bending to her will when she arches just slightly so that the sheet moves down and reveals the tops of her breasts. She runs one hand up and over herself while I can see the outline of her other hand moving south beneath the sheet. Her eyes are still on mine when she lets out a softah,and then her eyes rake down my body. “Don’t leave. I want you to fuck me again, Damien.”
I pull at the sheet so I can watch her touch herself. The inside of my mouth gets wet watching her hand move between her legs. And I don’t know where to go first once I’m back out of my clothes, her mouth, her ass, the heavy swell of her breasts. I want to maul and rut and fuck, want to take her every way. I just barely remember to grab a condom from her nightstand before lining myself up and pushing inside of her. I feel like she was made just for me. The soft sounds she makes when I hit her deep, the dirty, sexy words she whispers to urge me on, the way I fit inside of her just so.
“I love you,” I whisper as I come down from the high.
She rakes her nails down and over my back. “I love you too.”
I’ve never said it before and neither has she, but I’ve felt it for some time. And it’s all right. I want her to know. I’d never want to leave without her knowing just how special she is to me.
I look at her as I pull out and ease back. “You ok?”
“Yeah,” she answers, but her smile is sad. “I’m just thinking about the end already, and I don’t want this to end.”
“It doesn’t have to end.” I tell her this, going against my better judgement. But fuck it, I do want to bind Grace to me. I want her waiting for me to come home. I want her thinking about the future that I’ve pretty much mapped out for us.
I let what I’ve said hang in the air while I go into the bathroom to dispose of the condom. When I come back out, Grace is propped up on her elbow, naked again from the waist up, patting the space next to her on the bed.
Fixing my eyes on her breasts I tell her, “You are the hottest woman on the planet, you know that?”
“Stop.” She’s smiling and cringing at the same time, still uncomfortable when I compliment her.
I ease back onto the bed and lay down so that I’m facing her. “I meant what I said, Grace. I love you.” When she doesn’t answer I decide to put it all out there. “If you ever did decide to wait for me, I’d make a good life for us. Eli and I have plans. He’s an engineering major, and I’ve got experience with the construction side and some knowledge of finance. We’re going into business together when I get out. We’ll be taking over for his father someday. I’ll be making good money, Grace.”
She blushes and shakes her head. “I don’t care about that.”
“But I do. I don’t want to scare you off or anything, but I can see my future here with you.”
I let out the breath I’ve been holding when I see that Grace looks happy. “A house right by the river?” she asks.
I nod, picturing it. “With a wraparound deck and some steps that lead right down to the water.”
“Easy access for skinny dipping?”
“That’s a must.”
“I want a fire pit, too.” She reaches over me to grab the note off the nightstand. Handing it to me she says, “Bring stuff to make s’mores this weekend.”
“No problem. This weekend we’re breaking all the rules.”
“You mean the hunt, catch and kill rules don’t apply?”
“I’m thinking I’ll marinate some steaks, and I’ll pack eggs and bacon to make on the cast iron pan for breakfast Sunday morning.”
“I’ll make a caprese salad to go with the steaks and I’ll bust out the bottle of Prosecco I’ve got chilling in the fridge.”
“Yeah,” I kiss her once, “we’ll make this last camping trip a good one.”
My words hang in the air.
Last.
I hate the word when I think of it as an adjective. It’s final, an ending, something coming to its conclusion. I like the verb much better. As in, I want this goodness to last. I want to hang on, to endure, to go the distance with Grace.
