We both start to speak at once. Then laugh and speak together again.
“Yes.” And without even needing to discuss it, we’re in the lift and leaving the uni behind for the day.
I fumble sliding the key into the lock. This time, not because it’s dark. And not because there’s a hand in my trousers, although I sincerely hope there will be in the not-too-distant future.
I fumble because I’m nervous. Terrified.
Sadie followed me home in her car. Neither of us wanted to have the conversation we need to have with prying eyes and ears around every corner.
We stand facing one another awkwardly in the living room, which has improved marginally since Sadie was last here. The boxes of books that used to line the hallway have been emptied onto shelves I’ve had built, and the TV has been mounted on the wall. But that’s it.
The silence drags on.
I don’t know who moves first. Me or Sadie. It doesn’t matter. Because the only thing that matters is she’s here. In my arms. Everything else can be sorted out later.
Her lips are on mine. Her hands are in my hair. My hands are lifting her against me, and I stumble to the bedroom, falling to the poorly made bed, where it all began, with a groan.
Clothes and shoes are flying. Buttons popping, zippers zipping, belts clanging as we race. Desperate. Rolling across the bed to get the access we need.
And then we’re naked and our calloused hands—yes, Sadie has them too, despite only being on the dig for a couple of weeks—are roaming bare skin. Raising goosebumps. Raising temperatures. Raising heart rates.
I can’t wait to taste her. Sliding her onto her back, I push her knees apart, and my lips work their way down her chest, across her trembling belly, over the mound where a narrow triangle of caramel hair waits, pointing me home. Because Sadie is home. As soon as we’ve told each that with our lips and our tongues and our hands, I’ll tell her with my words.
She’s already slick and ready, her flesh hot and swollen. And she tastes like heaven.
This is not the time for teasing. For drawing our pleasure out. We both need release. Now.
Her back arches off the bed as I clamp down on her clit and devour her. A loud hiss breaks from her lips. Her every muscle tenses, and my mouth floods with her climax.
“That’s it, gorgeous. You don’t need to be quiet now. Scream. Shout. Tell me what you want.”
“You, Ethan. I want you. Now.”
She doesn’t have to ask twice. I rear up, grab a condom from the bedside drawer and roll it down my dick. Sadie’s eyes glitter as she watches me press the tip to her entrance. I can’t decide whether to watch her face or watch myself sink into her heat and warmth. Because it’s all beyond sublime.
With a flex of her hips, Sadie takes me inside, and I plunge. The tension, the intensity is almost unbearable. Until Sadie starts to move beneath me. And I can’t hold on anymore.
We’re both gasping and grunting, the rich sound of flesh slapping flesh echoing around the room before I shout my release, and Sadie whimpers hers.
Slick with sweat, I roll to the bed beside her and pull her in to my chest.
“That was quick.” I can feel her lovely lips smiling as she murmurs against my chest.
“I’ll do better next time. Promise.” I kiss the top of her head.
“Oh, there was nothing wrong with that time. Nothing at all.”
There’s so much to say. So much to work out. Right now is not the time. For now, all I want to do is enjoy the feel of Sadie in my arms. Knowing we don’t have to sneak around. Or deny it. Or ignore it. Anymore.
But there’s one thing that won’t wait. One thing that’s burning my tongue. I pull back, tip her chin up and look into her eyes.
“I love you, Sadie Montgomery.”
“I love you too, Ethan Carter.”
And we both drift off into the best kind of daytime nap. The post-sex-we-have-nowhere-else-to-be-today nap.
As I was in Bangalay, I’m the first to wake. Sadie doesn’t stir from what seems more like hibernation than sleep, as I pull her closer and run my fingers through her hair. That’s okay. I’m content to lie here, holding her close. Thinking about the things I want to say to her.
