“Hi, Julie.”
“What’s going on in there?” He tosses his head toward me but doesn’t move other than that.
I know he means my head. He always asks that when I get quiet. He can read me well. I don’t speak. I just shrug, hoping it looks casual and not sulky.
He’s walking toward me now, and I lower my gaze to the floor again, but he kneels in front of me, his soft jogger-clad knees cushioning into the fuzzy rug either side of my bare feet. He rubs his palms up and down my thighs. Then he reaches up and hooks the dangling locks of my hair behind both ears and cradles my face, his palms now on my cheeks and jaw. I raise my gaze to meet his, so blue in the morning light that I blink against the radiance.
“I’m going to miss you.” He says what I’m thinking.
“I already miss you. How long before you leave?”
“We’ve got time. I was also wondering if you would drive me to the airport. We could take the Jeep, and you could use it while I’m gone.”
“Yeah, okay.” I force a smile, make it reach my eyes and hope he doesn’t see through it.
“Can I kiss you?” The flicker of mischief gives me pause because he doesn’t ever ask to kiss me.
I nod though and lean my lips toward his.
He shakes his head slowly and says, “Stand up.”
I stand, and he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my panties and pulls them down all the way to my ankles and nudges me back onto the bed. He kisses my inner thigh just above my knee. My sharp intake of breath brings his eyes up to mine. Watching me, he places another kiss a little higher on my thigh. My eyes roll back, and my lids fall. I arch my back and let my neck drop as his kisses get closer and closer to the vee between my thighs. His lips place featherlight kisses there first, seeking. Within moments my body responds, the bud of nerves hardens, my thigh muscles contract. I want to squeeze them closed, but he’s there between them, so I press them to the sides of his face. I can’t help it. I try not to squeeze, and the effort brings a moan from deep in my throat. The baritone of his voice, part chuckle, part moan, tells me he likes what he’s doing to me. My hands fly to his hair, the soft prickly fade teasing my fingertips. My palms splay against the back of his head and hold him firmly to me when he begins to suck. As the pressure builds, I fight to keep my knees from clamping down on him. They begin to tremble with the effort. I feel his fingers slide into me, and I fall back onto the mattress. I raise my feet to the edge of the bed and use them to propel me down into his thrusts. I want more. I think I say it out loud because he stops kissing me down there to answer me.
“Tell me, Ever. What do you want?”
I’m so disturbed by the loss of his mouth I blurt out exactly what I want, crudely. “Fuck me, Julie. Please.”
Then he’s gone. His mouth, his fingers. I open my hazed eyes and see him stepping out of his joggers before he pulls his shirt over his head. Then he’s climbing up my body and scooting me back onto the bed. He braces himself above me with one arm next to my head. Withhis other hand he guides himself to my center. I feel the tip of him, hard and ready, a second before he plunges into me with a force that’s new. I’m wet and ready, so he sinks in easily, but the force rips a deep cry from my lips. It sounds likeyesto my ears. So I say it again.
“Yes, Julie. More.”
“I got you, Ever. Come for me.”
He’s driving into me with each word, hard and fast. And I’m not seeing, just feeling. My eyes are shut tightly and I’m digging my nails into his hips, inviting him to go harder. It’s almost painful but in a good way. And it’s taking me up and over. “I’m there, Julian. I’m going to. Ughhh . . .” I’m convulsing around him.
He slows his thrusts. He knows everything is sensitive now, heightened by my orgasm. He’s patient. When my body stops convulsing, he wraps his arms around me and rolls us without breaking our connection so that I’m on top. Straddling him, I sit up and rock back and forth. His face goes slack, lips pouty when it feels good, but he doesn’t close his eyes like I do. He watches me. I want to close my eyes, but I make myself stare back at him. He reaches out and caresses both my breasts. His big hands envelop my modest chest.
“So beautiful, Ever.” He squeezes them before he drops his hands to my hips and lifts me off his length and drops me back down as he rocks into me. Then he does it again and again until the frenzy builds, never once unlocking his gaze from mine.
I want to close my eyes and just feel, but I can’t look away from what I’m seeing in his. I feel the pressure behind mine before the well blurs my vision. I feel him tense, I feel him swell inside me.
As the first tear slips down my cheek, he convulses with his orgasm, holding me down tight to him while he empties himself deep insideme. He reaches up to caress the tear off my cheek with his thumb while his fingers wrap around the back of my neck and pull my face down to his. He kisses me so tenderly it makes my heart ache. Our bodies are still joined intimately when he wraps his arms around me, hugging me so tightly I feel his heartbeat against my own.
“I’m going to miss you, Ever.”
“You already said that.” His rumbling chuckle makes me smile against his chest. I love making him laugh. I love the deep sound. And when I make him laugh, I’m usually rewarded with a hug. Like now, he squeezes me tighter, then rubs his hands up and down my back, dancing his fingers along my spine.
“I don’t want to leave you.”
I don’t respond, because I don’t want to sound needy—even to my own ears. I’m aware that my world begins and ends with him. I’m aware that I don’t really have a life that is mine.It is mine. I gaslight myself. He’s mine. But what else? What am I really doing with my life?
“Come with me.”
I raise my head to look at him. He’s looking up at the ceiling, so I fold my hands on his chest, rest my chin on my hands and wait. I can see the wheels turning, and I know mine are, but I need him to say more before I let my thoughts run away.
“How fast can you be ready?”
“To be gone for four days? What about Fit? Brew?”
