“You blew me, and I came in your mouth. You swallowed. It was fucking hot, to be honest. That was…not a first for me, but I really like it when I can let go like that. Just live in the moment.”
“Good.” He rose a little in the chair. “But honestly. Tell me. Because that would be…you know…fun. Giving you what you really want.”
“I just want you.”
“You can have me. But how?” He was leaning over the table, taking a sip of his coffee, which must be stone cold by now. It had been sat there all breakfast as he’d picked at his food. Not like me, who’d wolfed down everything and topped it off with a piece of cake with a candle. Been sung to by the waiters and had the entire breakfast congregation clap at me.
Like a child.
I was a fucking child.
“You know, I’m going to be honest here, and you can laugh all you want, but…”
“Tell me,” he urged. “Please.”
“It’s stupid.”
“Have you met me? I’m like…the Oxford dictionary definition of stupid. Easily led. Blindsided by idiots. Bad friends. You name it.”
“Fox,” I growled.
“I know.” He sighed. “I know.”
“I want you to…you know. Fuck me like you…”
“Like I mean it? Rough?”
“No!” I hissed, hoping nobody was listening in. That the elderly couple behind us weren’t going to fall off their mobility scooters with sudden cardiac arrest hearing our crude language. At least I’d clocked the portabledefibrillator attached to the wall. The things I couldn’t help but look for wherever I went.
“You’re deflecting,” he said, letting his fingers stroke down his arm. “I’m right here, and we have a few more days. Might as well make good use of this…situationship.”
“This is not a situationship,” I said in a low voice.
“It’s whatever we want to call it.” See? He wasn’t weak. He was fun. Kind. Smiling and making my body react in ways it shouldn’t. Warmth everywhere. Sun on my skin. My cheeks aching because I was once again smiling too much.
He made me smile.
Fuck.
“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have someone love you. Like, real…lovemaking.”
“You want me to make love to you?” Whispers. Not even a sign of a smile.
“Yes,” I admitted. Okay. Now he could laugh. Walk away and make fun of me. Perhaps announce my stupid request to the room. I could already hear the imaginary cackling laughter his words would invite.
“Noah, I love that. And, yes, please.”
“Please what?” Perhaps this champagne was spiked, because my head felt all funny. And then he leant over the table and kissed me.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
“I know,” he whispered back. “I fucking know, Noah.”
I got up and got him more coffee because I couldn’t take it anymore. This horrible feeling of being wrapped up in something that was about to go completely wrong.
“Darling.”
Oh, my parents were back, now sitting at the table, and our champagne glasses had been refreshed, and the coffee in my hand was spilling everywhere as I tried to find space on the table.
