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“I know.” He gave me a wink.
I studied his features. His dark hair was spiked messily, the way I liked. And his skin was such a beautiful naturally tan color. He was a freaking work of art, and he was all mine.
Sex with Tyson never felt like a chore. Or like we were only doing it so he could get off, never mind my needs. Being intimate with him was like recharging some kind of hidden internal battery in my body. Instead of draining me, it always gave me more energy. I felt unstoppable after he came inside me, our hearts racing, bodies sweating.
The stupid paper could wait.
“I hate how handsome you are,” I lied as I pushed away from my desk and headed toward where he sat on my bed.
“Oh, yeah? Well, I hate how beautiful you are.” He pulled my body on top of his. I sat there, straddling his lap, feeling him harden underneath me. “Every time I look at you, I want to be inside you. It’s exhausting.”
“What’s exhausting about it?”
“Resisting.”
He leaned forward, his lips on my exposed skin as he pulled down my tank top with one hand. His tongue lashed out, making little wet circles between my breasts. I threw my head back, loving the way it felt whenever any part of him was on me.
“Don’t resist then. Take what you want.”
My nipple was suddenly in his mouth, and he sucked and bit at it, making me cry out with pleasure.
“Oh, I plan to,” he said before moving to my mouth and claiming it with a punishing kiss. “I need these clothes off you. You can write a paper about how much I love you when I’m finished.”
The sound of a car locking and a horn honking pulled me from my memory. My whole body shook in response. I hadn’t thought about that particular day in years. I wondered why it was the one that had decided to make itself known now.
Three hard knocks on my front door alerted me that my ex-boyfriend, the one guy I couldn’t seem to get over, was standing outside of it. I considered making him wait for seven more years until I let him in, but I didn’t have the willpower.
Pulling the door open, I saw that he was still in his costume, completely unrecognizable. He stepped inside and immediately looked around. I had known that he’d take stock of my place and check it out, but I hadn’t realized how exposing it would feel. Like he was judging my decorating style or the fact that it lacked any mention of him or us.
“Hey,” he breathed out from around the mask and makeup.
“Hey,” I said in response.
“Do you mind if I try to get some of this off?” He pointed at his face, and I was actually relieved that I wasn’t going to have to try to talk to him while he looked like that.
A serious conversation about our past while he was dressed like a very convincing Anakin freaking Skywalker was a bit ridiculous.
“Bathroom’s right over there.” I pointed at the open door, and he started heading that way. “There’s a washcloth under the sink if you need it.”
“Thanks.”
“Do you want something to drink?” I kind of hated how hospitable I was being, but I couldn’t help it.
“Water would be great,” he said as he shut the door behind him and turned the sink on.
I wondered how long he’d be in there as I grabbed us each a tall glass and filled it with the filtered kind from the fridge. My brain began to overanalyze the situation, starting with where exactly we should sit while we chatted.
The couch was too personal, too inviting, and we weren’t that comfortable yet. My patio had two chairs and a table, but it was dark outside, and I wanted to see his face when we talked. And even though the kitchen table seemed a bit too formal, like we were about to negotiate a business deal, it was the perfect compromise. We could sit across from one another, close enough to not miss a single expression, but far enough that our knees wouldn’t touch.
The bathroom door opened, and the sound of Tyson making his way through my living room had me instantly on edge. I swung my body around and waved my arm to let him know where he could find me, but almost burst into tears from seeing his face, now free of his mask and makeup.
“You got it all off.” I tried to sound unaffected, but my stomach was twisting at the mere sight of him.
Seeing him in his costume tonight hadn’t really been seeing him at all. I was flustered. He’d matured so much over the years—his jaw more chiseled, his facial hair finally fully growing in. I almost laughed out loud, thinking back to how mad he used to get when the hair would only grow in certain areas. He was convinced it never would. Oh, how wrong he had been.
“What are you smiling about?” His voice was sweet, gentle even, and I quickly stopped the smile I hadn’t realized I was giving him.
“Just remembering, is all.”
