I hold my body tight, resisting the dip in the mattress, straining my muscles so we don’t touch. I don’t know how long it takes, but it feels like hours before I finally fall asleep.
10
I wake up to a hand on my rib cage and the full length of Jacob’s body plastered along my back. I’m not startled or confused. I think both of us knew there was a good chance this would happen, that we might gravitate toward each other in the night. Especially in this uneven pull-out bed. But I meant what I said. We can be adults about this. He’s not doing this because he wantsme. I’m just a warm body next to his, and he’s only hard because it’s morning and it has nothing to do with—
“Neelu.” A puff of air travels over my ear, and I go still. Is he still asleep? Does he know what he’s doing?
The hand at my rib cage tightens, then pulls away. When I turn to face him, he’s awake, his pupils blown wide, his features tense.
My lungs constrict, because I recognize this look. It’s the way he was in the bar, when he was suppressing his want. In my hotel room, when he tried not to rush, when he tried to hold himself back.
There’s a faint shadow at his jaw, and his glasses are off, his gaze a bit unfocused. But there’s something needy, almosthungryabout the way he looks at my mouth.
I’m not sure which of us reaches for the other first, but it’s a rushed, hurried sort of collision.
“Jacob,” I exhale against his lips, and then it’s familiar. The shape of his mouth. The taste of him, the way his hips slot against mine.
“This is—” he says, breathless, incoherent.
I nod, reaching for the back of his head, pulling his mouth back to mine. “I know,” I say, though I don’t know what either of us really means. His hand climbs up my torso, his palm closing around my breast, and I reach for the clasp at my back, wanting my bra off.
He takes hold of my wrist, stopping me. “I’ve got it,” he says, and after a moment he manages it, one-handed, and pulls the material away.
He stares for a long moment, and with the way he looks at me, all eager and desperate, it’s like the last couple days haven’t happened. Like we’ve rewound time, and it’s just the two of us in a hotel room, secluded from the rest of the world.
“You feel so good,” he says, the words a whisper, and I drag him down to me, relishing the pressure, the feel of him. His skin is soft, the hair at his chest rough. His mouth slick and tender.
“You too,” I say, and his hips rock against me, pulling a gasp from my lungs.
There’s a little voice in the back of my mind.You don’t like each other,it says, but I push it away. We don’t have to like each other to likethis.
I lift a leg, wrapping it around him, the pressure exactly what I want. What I need. I arch up into him, meeting his movements, and—
Squeak.
The sharp noise cuts through the air, but we ignore it, still clutching at each other, still moving against each other, chasing a rhythm we’ve both been missing—
It takes a while for my brain to make sense of it. The mattress,the old creaky springs. Jacob, wearing nothing but his boxers. On top of me.
My father sleeping in the other room.
Oh god.
It seems to register for Jacob a second later, his glazed-over expression fading, horror taking its place.
My head swings to the double doors leading to the bedroom, relieved to see them still closed, and Jacob scrambles off me, the bed emitting a few more creaks as he comes to his feet. His hair is wild, dark waves sticking out in different directions. He pats his palm along the side table, finding his glasses and slipping them on in a quick, fluid motion.
He gapes at me, then turns around, and I reach for my bra on the floor. I fix it back in place, then grab my dress, yanking up my zipper, contorting my body so I can get it up as high as I can go.
“We can’t—that wasn’t a good idea,” he says, reaching for his shirt, buttoning it up his front.
“Yeah,” I say. “I know.” I wave my hand toward the bedroom door, and Jacob’s eyes follow.
“No. That’s not what I—”
There’s a sharp knock and both of us nearly jump out of our skin. But it’s not coming from the bedroom. It’s the front door.
I open it to find a young man in the hallway, holding a silver dome-covered tray.
