I want to say yes, but truthfully, I don’t know him well enough to have a confident answer.
"Because I really want to believe that I can trust you." I shove at his shoulder playfully, and his laughter vibrates under my palm.
"You can." It’s two simple words that mean nothing to him, but to me? They mean more than I expected them to. "This changes nothing, Olive. No matter what, I’ve got you."
And when I realize he’s still sitting in front of me in nothing but his underwear, it hits me—whywe came here.
Wherewe just came from.
And that there arepeople waiting for us.
Though with him staring at me the way he is, I don’t think I ever truly forgot.
I just pushed it aside for long enough to let go of some of the weight I’ve been carrying, and hoped he wouldn’t look at me any differently.
But now it feels like he’s carrying some of it around with him, too.
I hope he doesn’t feel anchored down by it. It’s not his burden to carry.
"Now that you know my deepest, darkest secret, can we go back to doing what we were about to do before my brain decided to malfunction and ruin everything?"
"Only if you’re sure," he says, his voice low and gravelly. I nod like it’s my last day on this earth, and he’s the only one I want.
"I’m pretty sure this is something a husband and wife do on the day of their wedding," I whisper, nibbling my bottom lip, gesturing to the rose petals that surround us. "We may not be a real married couple behind closed doors, but you sure know how to fuck me like you want me. Maybe later, you can fuck me like you hate me. Or if you feel like being a gentleman, you can fuck me while telling me how pretty I looked today."
"Yes fucking please," he groans as I straddle his waist, rocking my hips back and forth, grinding against him. "Keep talking to me like that, Olive, and you’ll get what you want. I don’t need to fuck you to tell you how pretty I think you are. You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever laid eyes on." He kisses my lips softly, then pulls away. "You want me to fuck you like I like you?"
He nips at my bottom lip, his hands grazing my cheeks. "I can do that."
A kiss on my collarbone. "You want me to fuck you like I hate you?"
Three kisses dot my jaw. "Done."
His palm rests around the base of my neck, the coolness of my necklace pressing firmly against my skin. His other hand bunches my hair at the back of my head. "But do you know what comes after a hate fuck?"
"Make up sex?"
"Make up sex, Songbird. Arguably thebesttype of sex there is. So as long as we get to that part after I fuck you every other way, I’ll do whatever you want me to do. We have so much time to do all of that." He nips at my lip.
I look up at him, his eyes feel like they’re controlling my every move. "Do I need to do something to make you hate me first?"
"I don’t think I could everhate you. But none of that is what I want to do to you right now, Olive." He licks his lips, his big hands reaching out to pull me closer.
"What do you want to do?" I whisper, trying to ease the shakiness in my voice.
I watch as his throat bobs. "How about we just…see what happens."
I glide my fingers up his forearms, across his collarbone, and down his rippled stomach, his soft skin setting my hands on fire.
We’ve done this before, he and I, but this feels so different. Like there’s been a part of me missing this whole time, and I’ve finally found her. Found her inhimwhen I wasn’t even looking.
I dip my head, my lips finding his. It feels like the pull they talk about in movies, where you just feel so drawn to somebody, and cannot explain the reasoning behind it.
He loops his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him, his skin pressed against my dress. We’re chest to chest, his warmth off him radiating.
"This dress isn’t one of a kind," I whisper, desperately wanting him to rip it off me like he wanted to do the first night we were in a similar position, but he doesn’t.
He leans back, searching me in a way he never has before.
