Just over an hour later, I’m howling with laughter, having put down a seven-letter word on my last go, winning the game beyond any doubt. CARROTS. It's not elaborate or sophisticated by any stretch of the imagination, but it moves me tonearly 100 points in the lead. With a pout, she folds by knocking her tile holder over and putting down the pen she was using to keep score.
“Well played,” Jenna says with the smallest, cutest scowl. “What's so funny?” she asks when I don’t stop laughing.
I shake my head before I try to explain. “He's such a... he always said... oh, fuck. It's Arnie.”
“What?”
“It's Arnie doing his guardian angel shit he promised me he'd do.” I rest a hand on my chest. “I've never really believed he would or even really felt him much in this way, but right now, I know it's him. Here I am thrashing you - a professional writer - at Scrabble with a crappy food-related seven-letter word, and what do I get for winning?”
Jenna's giggling with me now.
“A dildo up my arse! He's stepping up when I need him most.”
Jenna stands up to tidy up the letters. “You know I would have done that for you, win or no win.”
“I know but let me have this,” I say, laughing some more, as Jenna packs the game away. “It feels good to feel him close, and for it to not be when I'm sobbing and eating my own snot. Even I can't make that look sexy.”
“Some people find crying a turn-on.”
“Are you serious?” I straighten up my robe. I really should have a shower and get dressed.
“Dacryphilia,” she says, as she walks around the table and picks up our now-empty coffee cups.
“Well, if it's got a Latin name, it must be real.”
“Greek,” she says with a side smile. “It's a Greek word.”
“It's all fucken double Dutch to me,” I say as I grab her and pull her between my now open legs. “How about we talk instead about what turns you on.”
“Or I deliver on our deal?” Her smile turns wicked.
I can't stop myself clench with excitement. But then I remember our conversation earlier and impossibly, it's like the light in the sky brightens a little.
“Your pupils just dilated at lightning speed,” she says as her hands come down to rest on my shoulders, close to my neck.
“I just remembered what we spoke about earlier,” I admit. “No more condoms.”
“I have been thinking about it non-stop. You’re going to feel so good inside me, skin on skin.”
That snaps the tight piece of elastic that was keeping me off her. In a single movement, I stand up, lift her by her waist and haul her up so she can wrap her legs around me. She doesn't feel as steady there as I would like, but we don't have far to go. I just need to get her to the bedroom where I am going to devour her body.
Chapter Forty
Jenna
After throwing me on the bed, he stops. Probably to catch his breath, possibly to think out his next move, maybe to take the sight of me in and commit it to memory, which is exactly what I’m doing looking up at him.
“I need a shower,” he says.
“I don't care,” I say in a hurried breath.
“I care,” he says finally. “And I want to make you wait, like you made me wait.”
“Marty,” I say, and I think I'm going to laugh but it’s more like a strangled, desperate plea.
“Wait,” he says with a long-pointed finger I suddenly want in my mouth. “Don't move. And don't you dare touch yourself.”
I throw my head and body back on the bed with a grunt.
