Clark’s easy, cheery smile flashes briefly through my mind, making my feet go cold and my spine stiffen.Your call, sweetie pie, he used to say when I’d ask for any opinion relating to our home, vacations, lives.Your call, he said, all the while apparently working hard at getting his twenty-year-old barista girlfriend pregnant. The barista from the coffee shop I liked to go to. The one where they put homemade marshmallows on theirhot chocolate and there’s this cozy back room that’s perfect for people with kids. I’d pictured bringing our children there.
“What about you, Kit? What do you need?” His voice, though soft, startles me from my uncomfortable memories.
“Me?”
“How do we get you ready?”
“We?”
When he shifts closer to me, I see that his eyes, which had been as soft as his voice a second ago, have gone dark and ice hard. “What’s the plan, Kit? You gonna just spread ’em in the dark and hope I’ll fit?”
All the blood in my body whooshes south. Why on earth is that idea a turn-on? Is it the insinuation that he’s big? The notion that it’ll take work to get his body to slot into mine?
He’s closer than I realized, his height and bulk blocking out most of the light from the bedside lamp. “You bring lube?”
“Oh…” Crap, what was I thinking? I am so unprepared for this. “No.”
“We’ve got to get you good and wet then, don’t we, Kit?”
I wish he’d stop using my name because every time I hear it in that voice, it’s like he’s handling me. Getting me where he wants me without once having to use his hands.
“I’ll be fine.”
He grunts, clearly not believing me. I don’t know why I find that annoying.
“It’s good. I’ve done this before, you know.”
“Had clothes-on hotel sex in the dark to get pregnant?”
“No, I mean sex.”
“Sure hope so.”
“Listen, let’s… You just…”
“Go ahead. Tell me what to do. I’m all yours.”
There he goes, giving my nerves a work-out again with his words. What is it? Is it the innuendo, intended or not? Is it thatit’s him? Or is it this weird situation? Would I always be up and down like this, given the circumstances? Skittish one second and half-aroused the next?
“All right. Good.” I nod at his pants. “You, um, get ready and I’ll…be right back.”
I head into the bathroom, lock myself in the toilet cubicle, and lean back against the door.What are you doing, Kit? Get a hold of yourself. This isn’t you, this nervous crap.
I’m a confident person. I know my mind. I’m not someone who faffs around, trembling for no reason. This is sex. That’s it. I’ve done this more than a few times. I’ve had a few partners. I mean, it’s been years since I’ve done it with anyone but Clark, but it’s just like riding a bike, right? One leg over, ass in the saddle…
After a deep breath in, I walk out, wash my hands, and head back into the room, which is now as dim as it can get without shutting off the light entirely. He’s seated in one of the armchairs, waiting.
“Go ahead and get on the bed.” I guess he’s in charge now. “This dark enough for you?”
“Totally dark, please,” I whisper, heading to the bed, feeling like I’ve completely miscalculated this whole thing.
I sink onto the white comforter, then change my mind and get up to pull it, along with the top sheet back, then scramble onto the middle, self-conscious and awkward, but also tempted to squeeze my thighs together for a hit of friction.
Over the next few beats, Jake heads over to the lamp and shuts it off, the clicking sound final and grim in the quiet. He then settles on the side of the bed, his breathing audible.
Seconds tick by.
“You mind if I get ready?”
