She shakes her head. “For right now.”
I wish I could see her. If I could just see her face, determine her emotions in her gaze, this would be easier. But no. I’m going in blind. Maybe that’s a good thing. I should let my heart lead.
Brutal honesty. That’s how I’ll handle this. “I like you. I’m attracted to you. And that scares me. I’ve never been with anybody but Anna. This house is a godsend because she never lived in it with me. I want to take you into my bedroom and remove your clothes. I spend a stupid amount of time thinking about the first time I saw you, and how different things might have been if I hadn’t been in denial about the end of my marriage. And as scared as I am to be attracted to you, I’m more terrified of refusing how I feel about you and making the kind of mistake I’ll think about when I’m an old man. To make a long story short, my goal right now is to kiss you the way I did that day in the field, and I hope to God you’re okay with that because it’s happening in three.” I pause, giving her the opportunity to approve. Or refuse, but Christ I hope that’s not what she does. “Two…”
“One,” she says, stepping into the space between us, pressing her chest against me, her hands finding the back of my neck.
Her lips are on mine. My arms wind around her body, and her muscles relax. She melts into me, covering me in her warmth and her desire. She is sweet like sugar, but she has heat too. Like her spicy peach candy. The thought makes me smile, and she feels it.
“What’s funny?” she asks, her question spoken against my lips.
“Later,” I groan, because talking is the last thing I want to use my mouth for right now. My tongue slides against the seam of her lips, parting them softly. She moans into me, and the kiss grows deeper.
I walk her backward until she is pressed against my house. My hand drags down the length of her side and back up, settling on her hip. The fistful of sweats in my hand isn’t enough. I need more. I push against her, and she pushes back, meeting me.
Wrapping two hands around her, I hoist her up and onto my waist. She laughs against me, the sound a vibration in my mouth.
“Hold on,” I tell her, pulling back only long enough to speak.
Through the front door we go, and all the way back to my bedroom. Tenley’s thigh muscles clench around my middle, her hands running through my hair. I pepper kisses across her collarbone as we clear my bedroom door.
What happens next is easily the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Tenley crawls to the center of my bed after I lay her down and removes every piece of her clothing. She is beautiful and bold, and I am the luckiest man. She tells me she’s on birth control, and I thank the stars above because I don’t have a condom. I undress, and once I’m lined up with her, I don’t pause for even the shortest second. Swiftly, maybe even brazenly, I’m inside her.
She guides me with her hips, pushing up and silently asking for more, but I respond by cupping her cheek and consuming her mouth.
“Warner, please,” she says against me.
Her plea obliterates any shred of my remaining self-control.
Together we are intense, needy for each other. She wraps her legs around my back, and I kiss every part of her I can reach. We fuck hard, Tenley matching me even though she is beneath me, and she never indicates she wants anything less than what I’m giving. I place a hand between the top of her head and the headboard, and it’s a good thing I do because pretty soon her head presses to my palm and the headboard bangs into the wall.
Tenley grips my back, squeezing me tight, and tells me she’s close.
“Look at me,” I say, pressing my nose to hers. There is just enough light trickling into the bedroom for me to see her eyes. She looks at me, allowing me to watch her approach her climax, and then she comes apart beneath me, shuddering and clamping a hand over her mouth to muffle her cries.
She needn’t be quiet. We’re alone out here, more alone than most people, and when the tremors of my impending climax start, I thrust into her once more.
With my release comes a guttural groan of her name, and she tightens her thighs at the word.
My head drops onto her chest. “I… I…” There’s no way I can finish that sentence, and I’m so out of it I’m not sure what I’m even trying to say.
Her chest dips with her small laugh. “Same.”
We stay in this position, my cheek pressed to the swell of her breast. I feel weirdly hollow, but also like I’m a starving man who has been given a morsel of food.
Eventually it becomes clear we need to move, and we each take turns in the bathroom. I’m lying in my bed when she steps out. She looks at me, then at the scattered clothes. She moves to put on her bra, and I stop her with an outstretched arm that touches nothing but air.
“Will you stay?”
Tenley straightens. She nods and climbs in beside me. I reach for her, pulling her in close. Neither of us say anything, because what is there to say? Everything that needs to be said was spoken with our actions.
She falls asleep first, and I am not far behind her. My last thought is of how good her hair smells.
20
Tenley
In the movies,there are three types of morning after scenarios. The first is the regrettable one, where they wake up and look at one another, equally astounded and revolted to see the other person. The second is where they wake up and peek at each other, have awkward but endearing conversation, and agree to see each other again. And the third is my favorite: the belated realization that prior events were a mistake, and keeping it friendly is best. I just hope I’m not experiencing it in real life at this exact moment.
