“More,” I pant. “Everything.”
He rolls a condom on and circles my entrance, using my wetness to ease his entry as he sinks into me slowly. Inch by precious inch. There’s a newness as my body stretches to take in his ample size, but his fit is also familiar, somehow. Like this is where he belongs. Gem and setting. Lock and key.
Ro holds me, deep and unmoving, and my eyes water at the fullness. I claw at my hair, the couch, his back. Desperate for him to start thrusting, but just as decided that he should stay this still forever. When I can’t take it any longer, I let my waist swivel in barely perceptible circles. Ro’s hips round, too, and when he rocks even farther inside, my body tightens to hold him there. Waves of electric pleasure crest over me, and my breath hitches at feeling him this way. Finally close enough.
But when I open my eyes, Ro’s watching me with an intention that matches his movements, and I moan at the way he holds my gaze, commanding me without saying a word. A smile lifts the corners of his mouth at how hungry I am for him, but this time, when Ro’s teeth sink into the pillow-soft flesh of his lip, I see vigilance there. Caution. He’s holding back. Keeping quiet, when right now, I want him free and loud.
“Say it,” I beg. “Tell me.”
His thrust threatens to tear me apart as his voice breaks free. “Shit.” The word sounds like an admission. A curse wrapped in a plea. “You feel so good. So fucking good, Kai. I want you.”
“You have me,” I rasp. My body shaking and screaming that it’s his.
And if he hadn’t buried himself inside me again right then, I might’ve noticed how those words tasted on my tongue. Bitingly harsh in their truth. Brutally sharp in their honesty. But as our bodies move together, pleasure rips through me and my mind blurs. Mouth nipping and sucking at Ro’s neck till all I taste is him. Salty and sweet.
Ro’s rhythm mounts as he unabashedly chases his own release and I relinquish all control. He pulls out one last time before thrusting all the way back in. His body stutters as he splinters apart.
There are no screams or sounds between us anymore. What had been violent crests earlier are now slow rolling tremors. Silent intensity that our mouths devour whole as our breath, deep and ragged and shared, races past the rawness in my throat. Ro’s still filling me and my body is still pulsing for him, with him. His subtle twitches inside me ushering my aftershocks.
And, I realize I’d been wrong just moments before: We hadn’t been close enough then, because we hadn’t beenthisclose.
Until now.
24
My mind is racing. Litteredwith scenes from my afternoon with Ro, as I Uber home on autopilot. As soon as our sex fog lifted, I knew I’d made a mistake. Not the sex necessarily. Being with Ro had felt so right in the moment. It was everything that came after that left me racing for the door.
The way I’d nuzzled into the nook under his arm like I could belong there. The way my body fit so perfectly against his, like maybe I already did. The comfort I took, listening to the steady beating of his heart, how it had lulled me back to sleep. The peace I’d felt hours later when I woke in his arms.
But that peace had been short-lived.
I’d woken to the sound of his breathing—his chest rising and falling under my cheek—and I hadn’t moved. I hadn’t wanted to. Instead, I listened. I listened to his fuckingbreathing.
And then, lying there with him, our naked bodies tangled under a gauzy blanket, smiling at the sound of this man’s lungs exchanging vital gases, I’d let my heavy eyelids close again. I’d let myselfwantto stay.
So I knew I had to go. Instead of memorizing one more beat of his heart or waiting for one more exhale. Instead of letting himwake to find me naked and happy and powerless against this thing I’ve seen play out too many times for too many women, I left.
Because I’m not ready to start the clock on when he’ll pull back the mask to unleash whatever fresh hell men inevitably subject their partners to after days, months, years. I’m not ready to see the inevitable truth of him.
Right now, I still believe in Ro. So, just this once, I don’t want to know how the scary story ends.
4:48pm
Ro:You left?
Me:Had to help Zola w/ some baby stuff. Didn’t want to wake you!
My fingers hover over the keyboard after deleting my fifth attempt at a follow-up text. I’d meant for the lie to sound vague enough to be an easy out. To release him from having to say all the right things to prove he’snot like other guys.Ro doesn’t need to promise me the world. He doesn’t need to promise anything at all.
But standing in my driveway, staring into the phone screen so hard my eyes actually water, I quietly allow myself to admit that maybe that’s exactly what a not-so-small part of me is hoping he’ll do. I don’t need the three dots appearing and disappearing from our exchange to mean everything, but maybe they can mean something.
Ro:No worries.
Or maybe not.
25
Over the next few days,I reread that brief conversation with Ro more times than I’d ever admit.Didn’t want to wake you!doesn’t even read like an actual sentence anymore. The words have lost all meaning.
