Claire
At home, the dessert bag barely hit the island and Smitty’s tail almost got stuck in the door on his way back from relieving himself. Aiken had me backed into the counter, his tongue exploring my mouth while his hand hiked my dress around my waist and tickled over my hip bone.
My own fingers wandered down his back and inside the waistband of his jeans.
We were a symphony of moans and hungry groans, despite being full from dinner, the snow falling outside the window behind us, Smitty hiding in the front room. It was a strange scene of two lovers and domesticity. I didn’t belong, but I didn’t care. It felt too good.
Aiken slipped a finger, then two, inside me, my underwear shoved to the side, his tongue never leaving my mouth. My nipples hardened from the friction of my dress and bra with his shirt…
“Too much clothes,” I whimpered.
He pulled back, tugged his button-down shirt over his head, yanked my dress off, and tossed them in a heap on the floor. With his teeth, he freed my breast from the cup of my bra and sucked on my nipple while keeping his fingers at a steady pace. It didn’t take me long to get off. What David never quite figured out, Aiken had mastered in only a few months.
I heard the clang of his belt buckle and whoosh of his boots, the clatter of his pants, and then he was inside me. Bare, all of him and all of me, fitting together like it wasn’t meant to be any other way. Focusing on the physical sensation, I shoved all the romantic garble to the back of my mind.
It wasn’t until later, both of us in bed, the drapes open so we could watch the snow fall, that romance came back with a vengeance.
His hand tracing figure eights on my arm, my back tucked into his front, empty dessert container on the side table, Aiken said, “I’d ask you to move in, but this isn’t my place.”
“What?” I didn’t move, stayed stock still in his arms, hoping the moment would pass, praying the moment lasted.
“Us. We’re together almost every night. If I’m being practical, we shouldn’t pay two sets of bills. But really, I want to go to bed with you every night. And your dog is kind of partial to me.”
“Are you asking me to ask you to move in with me?” I gathered the sheet close, keeping my breasts covered, guarding my heart with a bedsheet.
“Yeah. I am. I know you prefer it here, and I don’t care. As long as I can bring my couch and my big-ass TV.”
“Don’t you think this is going a little too fast? I mean, it’s only been a few months.”
“Richards.” He spun me around and kept me gathered tight, front-to-front, face-to-face. “We’re adults.”
“I know.” It was a whisper.
“We don’t need years to know how we feel. Either it’s there or it’s not.”
“Okay, Mr. Therapist.”
“Don’t do that.” His lips grazed mine. “Don’t get silly. We don’t need to justify our relationship,” he said, finishing with another graze of my lips. “Plus, who says I can’t be smarter? Just because…”
“Don’t say it. I know you’re younger. Now who is being the silly one?”
“I love you, and I don’t want to push, but I want this to happen, Claire. I try to play by your rules, like I didn’t get you a gift for your birthday. On this, I’m taking the lead.”
“Can I have a little time? Let me get through spring break? Midterms? Then we can make all the decisions.”
“Yes,” he said, but he was covering up something—disappointment, rejection, impatience? My clinician brain couldn’t even get a read on it. It was deeper than I could read.
“Thanks for an amazing birthday.” I moved the conversation to a better place, trying to get my smirky smile back.
“Even though you didn’t want to celebrate? Oh, what about my gift for V-Day?”
Instantly, I felt the blush creep up my cheeks.
“Look at you, Little Miss Almost Over the Hill, blushing.”
I pinched his ass—hard. “Over the hill?”
“Kidding. Swear! I said almost! Still kidding. But I need to know what would make your cheeks flame like that…confess, now.”
