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“I just mean”—his free hand tenses up against the duvet—“you shouldn’t—I might not—”
“It’s going to be fine,” I tell him. “Like Mariah Carey at Christmas, all I want is you.”
I can tell I’ve caught him off guard because he goes a bit pink and awkward. “You can be very sweet.” He clears his throat. “Now go get the kumquats.”
“You do know I haven’t actually got any.”
“I was banking on that when I suggested you go get them.”
“You’ll just have to make do with me.”
“I was banking on that too.”
After that we get back to the kissing and we let that go on as long as its wants to. Long enough for Jonathan to stop worrying about whatever the fuck he’s worrying about and turn all dazed and hungry beneath me. In the end, it turns out I was right. It’s not the sort of thing you need to practice. If you trust it, it just sort of comes together.
We strip in stages and Jonathan looks as good under his suit as I’ve been imagining he would. He’s not got a gym body, but I’ve never been particularly into that. Give me something lived in, that’s real to touch, and imperfect in the best possible way. I love having him under my hands, that lovely mix of soft hair and hard muscle, and how he responds to me, holding nothing back.
There’s part of me that feels I don’t deserve it—not with, well, the lies and that—but I also need it. And until now I didn’t realise quite how badly I needed it. How lonely I’ve been. The truth is, I kind of hate what the last few years have made of my life. But it also brought me to Jonathan. And I’m glad it’s him. That I’ve come back to this with him. Because, fuck me, what a thing to deny myself. Making someone gasp and groan and clutch you tight. And letting yourself clutch them right back.
I’d assumed Jonathan would be as bossy in the bedroom as he is in the boardroom, but more fool me. Turns out he can be very easygoing. Which is exactly the right thing for me in that moment.There’s just so much I want and I’ve missed, and getting some of it back reminds me of everything I’ve lost and a bunch of other stuff I just let go of. It’s kind of fucked, how much bad you have to fight through to feel something good. And then the good is so overwhelming it almost hurts again. But Jonathan’s there with me the whole way. Giving me his heat and his breath and his beating heart. And the pleasure we share is everywhere between us and takes me up, up, up to better places and brighter skies.
CHAPTER 29
I wake up with jonathan Forest. We’re neither of us snuggly people, but I’ve got my head on his pillow and my hand on his chest and he’s angled towards me on the bed. His eyes pop open.
“Morning,” he says. His voice is pretty harsh normally and sleep’s made it even harsher. It’s the sort of thing that when you learn it about someone feels intimate and that.
“Morning,” I say back.
We lie there for a couple of minutes. I can feel we’re both going to get restless in a bit but, for now, it’s…I don’t know. Nice?
“Are you all right?” Jonathan asks.
“Aye,” I tell him.
“Last night was,” he tries.
“Aye,” I say again.
Because, from a certain point of view, last night was a bit embarrassing. I enjoy sex as much as the next feller but I don’t normally get that, y’know, intense about it.
He gives it another go. “I’m aware I was a little…”
“Reckon I was a little and all.”
“I’m not usually…”
“Me neither.”
“It was good, though,” he says firmly. “Really good.”
“Oh yeah, definitely.”
He clears his throat. “I don’t suppose you want to…”
I do. But it’s funny to make him say it. And, frankly, I like feeling that wanted.
He clears his throat again. “Give it another go?”
