I’m delirious. Unthinking in a way I crave every time he touches me. I’m not like this with anyone else. Definitely wasn’t with Ayan.
Brain calm and serene. Body at ease. All tension removed. And feeling so,sovery safe and cared for. I needed this.
“I love you.”
It brushes across my lips like a prayer. And I don’t even notice I say it. Not until Apollo’s eyes grow wide. Before I can gather up the words and shove them back down my throat. Before I can say it was just a momentary slip, and I didn’t even mean it, he kisses me. Not too much, but just enough. A placating and panicked peck on my lips.
Then he places his forehead against mine.
The room settles like nothing happened. Movie still playing. Parents still breathing.
But under the blanket, and between us, everything has changed.
“Too tired. Going to bed. Sins? Coming?” We both jolt upright when Dad clears his throat and stands.
“Yeah.”
Hand still sodden and laying on Apollo’s shorts, I smile. “Goodnight!”
“Night, sweets. If you need something?—”
“Thanks, Mom!”
Neither Apollo nor I relax an inch until we hear their bedroom door shut.
“I swear toVengracurus. You don’t even understand how much trouble you’re in. What you’veearned.” He grips theback of my neck and growls at me. “The only thing saving you? Is what happened tonight, Scout. I’ll let you heal up first. And then…punishment’s coming.”
I smirk, thighs still shaking. “Deal.”
The following morning,after sleeping in my old bedroom together, we wake up late and lazy. And dirty. He showers while I eat breakfast my mom left us. Dad hovers around the kitchen, trying to be useful.
“Apollo drink coffee?” he asks.
“Um…”
“Yeah, I do. Black,” my husband says behind me, and I grin as he places a kiss on the top of my head. “I’ll get hers.”
I’m confused as he takes the empty mug my dad’s holding out, pours the coffee into it, then reaches for the vanilla creamer from the refrigerator. After a dollop, he stirs it and hands me the mug.
“How did you know I liked vanilla creamer? No sugar?”
He snorts and taps the side of his temple. “I pay attention.”
The stool squeaks underneath me while I squirm, taking my first sip. I confessed my feelings last night in a flurry of passion. On the sofa. Just after he fingered me.
And despitefeelingas if he likes me, Apollo never said it back. But he remembers how I take my coffee.
I feel too exposed. But maybe he’ll forget I said the words. Maybe he’ll save me some embarrassment.
It’s too soon. And how could I expect him to say anything back right then?
Our relationship was never supposed to be about love. It was an order. Something that we both had to commit to in order to survive.
Now?
I think I want him.
No. Even more humiliatingly, if I admit what’s true…
