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Or at least, it barely felt like that compared to whatever this was.
So it made sense that she was all overwhelmed.
That she was ready to blurt out bonkers things at a moment’s notice.
Actually hot sex had turned her into some other sort of person—one with no emotional guardrails and not a lick of sense in her head. And if she removed said hot sex, then everything would go back to the way it was. They could have those great conversations again. Or watch movies. Or go to concerts together.
Everything would be okay, she told herself.
Then she saw him, framed in her doorway.
Just there to pick her up, looking plain as could be.
That suit, just like any of the other suits he’d worn back at the beginning.
His hair parted, his beard trimmed, his gaze clear of any kindof heat. He even said something dull to her, likeCome on we need to get off if we’re going to beat traffic. Same as many people had said to her before. Nothing sexy, no sign that he wanted to fuck. No thread of desire thrumming through his words.
And it just happened anyway.
It popped it into her head.
Plain and simple.
I love you.
Though thank god, thank god, it didn’t seem to show. He didn’t look at her like it was there, behind her eyes. Or even notice that she’d briefly frozen, like her own thoughts had fucking shot her. He just reached out and took her hand, and led her past what was, by this point, only one lone photographer.Smile, he said, as they passed him. And she did, automatically.
But god, she couldn’t help wondering what said smile looked like.
I bet I seem like a corpse that someone forced with their fingers into grinning, she thought.LikeWeekend at Bernie’s, only about a woman who doesn’t understand the first thing about her own feelings. Because that was the thing, wasn’t it? She didn’t. She hadn’t, at any point. Even though it was increasingly seeming like she’d been growing these emotions for quite some time.
You felt like this before he even kissed you, her mind said.
Only it didn’t feel like it was just saying.
It felt like it was taunting her.
Like it was telling her how big a fool she was.
And at the same time, giving her absolutely no outs. Because if it was just sex that was doing this, well. She could escape, then. She could dismiss it. But if it was there now, when nothing was happening… if it had been there all along, lurking inside her like a second beat of a heart she didn’t even know she had…
Then there was nothing she could do.
She just had to feel this.
And oh god, she did.
She did.
It happened again, once they were in the car. He reachedforward and touched her hair. Then just as she was half panicking and half wondering why, she grasped the reason. She had something caught in the tangles. Just a bit of fluff, no big deal. But he’d seen it, and sorted it, and done so almost absentmindedly.
Like it was pure instinct now to care about her.
And make contact.
And turn her inside fucking out.
Because Lord, did it turn her inside fucking out.
