She dips down to kiss me. “I was under the covers, facedown into that pillow, screaming.”
“Fuck. Olivia.” That might not be true, but fuck.
“Tell me what else you thought about.”
“Huh?”
She stops moving and whispers into my ear, “Tell me what to do. Choreograph me.”
My head is spinning. What do I want her to do?Pick one thing.One day, one night at a time. One quiet thing.
I hold her by the hips, flip her onto her back, and say, “Show me how flexible you are, Tiny Dancer.”
Her eyes flash with mischief, and she smiles gleefully. I brace myself, flattening my hands against the mattress on either side of her neck. She bends her knees and raises her feet up in the air to rest her ankles on my shoulders, on either side of my neck. She is impossibly tight around me. I thrust gently because I’m in so deep. It’s good. Nothing is better than this.
Except when her hands circle my wrists and she moves my hands up to hold on to her ankles. “Push down on my legs,” she says, grinning. “Until they’re behind my head.”
Maybe the next time she invites me to do this, I will suavely mutter,As you wish,and proceed to do just that.Thistime, I make a guttural sound, push her legs down—like the sexiest levers that ever levered—and choke back tears. Because I am the luckiest man alive and this is the best thing that has ever happened to anyone.
Olivia’s feet are pressed back, on either side of her head, into the pillow behind her. Her toes are pointed. I don’t know if there’s a name for this position, but I would call it the Die Happy, because I would. I would die happy—thrusting and quietly groaning and saying her name, over and over until I just evaporate into glittery, happy, sex dust.
She manages to cover my mouth with one hand and her own with the other. As if her flexibility and tightness and warm wetness and eagerness weren’t sexy enough, Olivia’s thoughtfulness and moaniness put me right over the edge. I lose myself in her, and I don’t want any of it back. Whoever I become on the other side of this orgasm will be a better man. Surely. I will live only for her. Surely everything I say and do after this will be the right thing and exactly what she wants and needs. Surely.
An hour later, I can’t sleep. Olivia is sleeping soundly. I’ve been staring up at the dark ceiling. Well aware that I am as in love as a man can be and absolutely fucking terrified. I would do anything for this woman. Anything. That can’t be good.
Can it?
It’s too soon to ask her to marry me.
But it’s too late to pretend that I can live without her.
I would rather die than let some other man have her.
Surely she would never want another man.
Surely.
I carefully slide out of bed without waking the beautiful dreamer, put my pajamas on, pick up my briefcase, and go down to the kitchen. That’s where I did my homework when I slept over here as a kid, while everyone else in the house was asleep.
I turn on one overhead light and take out my good pen and a notebook. I’ve always done this kind of analysis by hand. Going analog helps my brain when I have to make big, important decisions. I will analyze the risk versus reward of proposing to Olivia now. The way I’d analyze a start-up that’s looking for funding. A new relationshipisa start-up. It’s just a matter of knowing when to scale. I would, after all, be investing the rest of my life in one person. And asking her to do the same with me.
My heart and my body want what they want.
But they’ll still listen to reason.
CHAPTER 28
JOHN
Iwake up to bright sunlight, grogginess, a weird feeling in my stomach, and the sound of whimpering and scratching at the door.
I never felt like this before exams when I was in school because I was always confident that I knew more than the teachers—and I was right. If I weren’t me, I’d figure I’m coming down with something, but I only get sick every few years. I outwit germs and viruses. I haven’t felt like this since the first morning I went on pitch meetings for Brainy Biz funding. I have no idea why I feel this way—until I remember.
My briefcase is on the floor by the bed. Olivia has left me a note that says,
Morning, sleepyhead. Thought I’d let you sleep in. Hope that wasn’t the wrong decision. I’ll be at the gym for a couple of hours. xo
She didn’t sign it. Which is fine. I’m sure she couldn’t decide if she should writeLove, Oliviaor not and felt it would be silly to draw a heart.
