He mimes zipping his lips and I can feel his attention on me, even though his eyes are on the road.
“Like,” I’m still struggling to find the words, working my thoughts out aloud to him. “I think you might be the only thing I’ve ever been passionate about. And I’m sure there’s a shit ton of people that would tell us that’s unhealthy. But I’ve been on my own now. And I’ve been with you. And nothing feels as right as when we’re it’s you and me, making shit happen together. Like, I think this is how my life is supposed to be.”
I look over at him shyly, and can see his some sort of moisture in his eye from here.
“Are you…crying, Stone?” I tease him.
“Shut up,” he says. “I’m not crying, you’re crying.” His free hand rubs at his eye quickly before taking the steering wheel back, but the one on mine squeezes me tightly.
“That’s cute,” I tease him.
“I dare you to say that to my face when we get home.” He tosses out the challenge in a way that makes my stomach drop.
“Anyway,” I continue, like my boyfriend isn’t the sweetest (and sexiest) thing in the world. “I don’t know if everyone has something they’re meant to do with their lives. But the only thing I’ve ever really wanted to do with mine is to make a pretty awesome life with you. And I’m starting to think the rest of it is just how we get there. Your job, me working at the library, now my designs…” I trail off. “That’s all fine and fun. But I don’t really think it matters what I do for money. It’s all, just, whatever. I think being your partner, your person, is maybe what I was meant to be.”
I’m looking out the window, feeling a little shy at those thoughts making their way out of me, as we take an exit off thehighway. Not the exit to Aaron’s house, that’s still a good half hour or more away, much closer to the mountains.
“What—?” I start to ask.
He pulls over into the first gas station we pass, jerking the car to a sudden halt, unbuckling his seat belt and launching himself over at me. He pulls my face in with both of his hands, one on either side of my head, holding me like I’m his entire world, and his eyes back that up, too.
“You really think you get to say that shit to me when I can’t show you how much you mean to me?” He growls against my mouth. “You’re my fucking world, Gem. Gonna make sure you know it every day for the rest of our lives.” He takes my mouth roughly, determinedly, with his, kissing me breathless for a minute. He pulls back, presses his forehead against mine and watches me as he tells me, “Nothing fucking matters to me without you by my side, okay? If you were meant to be mine, I was meant to be the earth to your sun. I’ll do whatever it takes to stay in your orbit, keep spinning around you. You are what gives me light, makes my world turn. Without you…it’s nothing but darkness, there’d be no life at all.”
It’s not just Aaron that’s tearing up now, and I know neither of us are going through anything alone again. That feels more right than anything else that’s happened in our story so far.
Go ahead, call us co-dependent or any other label you want. I’ve got my person by my side, and we’re tackling this shitstorm called life together. I don’t care about the rest of it.
THIRTY-NINE
GEMMA
One week later
My first thought is that this feels achingly familiar.
The second I open my eyes, déjà vu hits me and the sensation overwhelms my consciousness.
I’m laying on Aaron’s living room couch, you know, the one that’s made of clouds straight from heaven. He’s snuggled in behind me, spooning me, with my face tucked into the cushions along the back of the couch, cocooned in peacefully. The position is so comfortable I’m pretty sure I could stay here for the rest of my days, if it weren’t for theneedbuilding inside me.
That’s definitely Aaron Jr. (not-so-junior) I feel poking into my behind, and I’ll be damned if I’m not getting a flood of images in my mind’s eye from it. All the times I’ve gotten acquainted with that particular part over the past weeks. All the fantasies I’d had about it prior to my reality becoming even better than my dreams. And another morning, eerily similar, where I woke up in a position almost identical to this one, that—strangely enough—more or less kicked off this fucked up series of events that led us to where we are today. The thought brings asleepy smile to my face and I can’t help but grind my hips against his erection, just a little, for old times’ sake. His arms tighten around me, and it’s his turn to groan from the sensations that friction between us creates, the promise that it builds.
Aaron must have lifted his head up, because I feel it come down on top of mine, his lips placing gentle kisses along the side of my neck until his mouth is pressed against my ear and the most dangerous little noise sounds. It sends a zip of passion straight to my most sensitive parts, and when his hands slide up my middle to cup my breasts and start rolling my nipples, I can tell this is about to get out of hand. It’s not like we have a jam-packed schedule today, it’s his first day off since his schedule kicked back in again, but if we go down this path, I might not let him off the couch for the rest of the day.
Then it hits me.Not so fast.Last time we were in this position, he didn’t give me what I wanted, and it might be time to return the favor. As soon as his hands release my breasts from that delicious form of torture and they start roaming the rest of me, I slam my booty into his hips, shoving him backward off me until the cold air greets my skin where his warmth just was, and I hear his grunt of pain as he hits the floor.
“Up,” I tell him, quoting him from months ago, before hopping over him and making to run straight to the kitchen to get our breakfasts started, like I’ve done a couple thousand times before.
He closes his eyes in disbelief, and as my feet pass his head, that gorgeous deep blue gaze meets mine and he lets out a chuckle of resignation.
“I deserved that.”
I think I can hear him heading into what might as well, officially or unofficially, be dubbed our room for all the time we’ve spent in it recently, presumably to get ready for the day.
Not even twenty minutes later and he’s emerged in black joggers and a white tee, hair wet andwowa definite tent on display, just for me. You could fit the entire Weasley familyandtheir guests for the Quidditch World Cup in that thing.
This view doesn’t get old, friends.
My eyes track his frame and get stuck on that obvious detail, my throat bobbing, a dead giveaway of my desire, but I can’t be bothered to try to hide it right now.
