And then I feel it—all at once, like a whirlpool in my stomach. The pull of my attraction for him. It’s shows up spontaneously, like a genie in a cloud of smoke. Poof.
“No,” I say. “I want to.”
Jake puts a hand on my face, and then we are kissing. In seconds I’m on top of him, my knees on either side of his stomach, my mouth on his neck, my hands in his hair, on his shoulders, grasping for anything I can reach.
His hands work down my back to my waist. Our mouths do battle—like we’re trying to find something in each other, some hidden key buried under teeth and gums and bone.
He sits up further, his hands cupping my shoulders, and then he kisses my ear. “Do you want to go to my bedroom?” he asks. His voice is ragged, but it breaks at the end—the comedy sneaking in.
“Yes,” I say.
He stands up and takes my hand and leads me back. I inhale and exhale slowly as we walk. I’ve never been in his bedroom before. White walls and a blue comforter. There are framed photos on his nightstand and dresser. He’s behind me, his hands on my waist. I pick up a photo.
“Who’s this?” I ask.
There’s a tiny blond child, a girl, all ringlets, smiling as she hangs over a goldendoodle puppy.
“Maya,” he says. His lips land on my earlobe. “I’ll tell you later.”
“Your sister’s kid?”
Jake stops, exhales. “Yeah. She’s sunshine.”
“She looks it.”
“I love her so much,” he says. “I honestly can’t believe how fast she is growing up. It’s crazy. It’s like a miracle or something.”
There is no posturing with Jake. He is so pure—everything he says, he means.
Jake whispers into my ear. “Do you want children?”
I have not spent a lot of time thinking about kids. I had no idea how they would fit into this equation. But that doesn’t seem like the right answer here. I’m not even sure it’s true anymore.There’s something about Jake that makes me want to be honest. Maybe the truth is I don’t know what I really want. Maybe it’s changing.
“Not tonight,” I say.
He smiles and moves his hands to my back. I loop my arms around his neck and then we are locked back together. We fall onto the bed, and Jake scrambles to get the pillows off.
“Someone explain decorative pillows to me,” he says.
“No one knows, everyone just has them.”
“We need to start asking ourselves why.” He takes a silk blue-and-brown-striped one and tosses it dramatically to the foot of the bed, then turns back to me.
“Sorry,” he says. “Where were we.”
I get up and turn off the light. And then I lean back over him in the darkness. I walk my fingers up his chest and pull down on the collar of his shirt. “Here,” I say.
He threads his hand through my hair and brings my lips down to his. His kisses are incredible. Soft and seeking and increasingly urgent. Like the quiet roar of a tidal wave. All of a sudden, I feel like we’re about to be swept underneath the surface.
Our clothes come off quickly.
And then he’s lying on top of me naked. It’s quiet in the room. I can hear my breathing.
Jake gets a condom from the nightstand, and then he’s back, kissing my neck, his hands tracing my belly.
“Is this OK?” he asks.
I move underneath him in answer.
