"Being able to imagine doing this with you is in no way torture for me," he says as his fingers touch my zipper. He begins to pull it down, and my heart is hammering away in my chest so hard it feels like it's building something. Maybe my heart is building a stairway for himself all the way to heaven, since he knows he'll explode and die the second these jeans slide off.
"It'll for sure be torture for me," I whisper.
My zipper is undone, and his hand is sliding inside my jeans. He pushes his hand around to my hip, then begins to tug them off.
I close my eyes and try not to sway, but his other hand has lifted up my shirt just enough for his lips to press against my stomach. It's overwhelming.
Both his hands slip inside my jeans now, around to my backside. He pushes my jeans down slowly until they're around my knees. His tongue meets my stomach, and my hands get lost in his hair.
When my jeans are finally around my ankles, I step out of both them and my shoes at the same time. His hands slide back up my thighs and to my waist. He pulls me to him so that I'm straddling him. He adjusts my legs on either side of him, then cups my rear and pulls me flush against him. I gasp.
I don't know why it seems like I'm the inexperienced one here. I certainly expected him to be a little less take-charge, but I'm not complaining.
Not at all.
I lift my arms for him when he attempts to pull off my shirt. He throws it to the floor behind me, and his lips reconnect with mine as his hands work the clasp of my bra.
It's not fair. I'm about to be left with one article of clothing, and he hasn't removed anything yet.
"You're so beautiful," he whispers, pulling back to slide off my bra. His fingers slip beneath the straps, and he begins to slide them down my arms. I'm holding my breath, waiting for him to take it off. I want his mouth on me so bad I can't think straight. When the bra lowers, revealing all of me, he exhales. "Wow," he says with shaky breath.
He tosses the bra onto the floor and looks back up at me. He smiles and briefly presses his lips to mine, kissing them softly. When he pulls back, he brings his hands up to my cheeks and looks me in the eyes. "You having fun?"
I bite my bottom lip to keep from smiling as much as I want to smile right now. He leans forward and takes my lip into his mouth, pulling it away from my teeth. He kisses it for a few seconds, then releases it. "Don't bite that again," he says. "I like seeing you smile."
Of course, I smile again.
My hands are on his shoulders, so I slide them lower on his back and begin to tug on his shirt. He releases my face and lifts his arms so I can take it off of him. I lean back and take him in, just as he's taking me in right now. I run my hands over his chest, touching every contour of every muscle. "You're beautiful, too."
He presses his palms into my back, urging me to sit up straight. As soon as I do, he lowers his mouth to my breast and softly glides his tongue across my nipple. I moan, and he covers it with his mouth completely.
One of his hands moves to my hip and slides beneath the hem of my underwear. "I want you on your back," he whispers. He keeps one hand on my back as he seamlessly switches positions, pulling me from his lap to his bed. He's bent over me now, pulling on my underwear as his tongue dips inside my mouth. My hands immediately fall to the button on his jeans, and I unbutton them, but he pulls away quickly. "I wouldn't do that yet," he warns. "Otherwise this will be over faster than it started."
I kind of don't care how long it lasts. I just really want his clothes off of him.
He begins to slide my underwear off of me. He bends one of my legs and slips it off my foot, then does the same to the other. He's definitely not looking me in the eyes anymore.
He allows my legs to fall back to the bed as he stands up straight and backs two feet away from me.
"Wow," he whispers, staring down on me. He's just standing here, staring at me as I lie naked on his bed, while he's still in the comfort of his jeans.
"This feels a little unfair," I say.
He shakes his head and pulls his fist against his mouth, biting his knuckles. He turns around until his back is to me and takes a long, deep breath. He faces me again, scrolling up the length of my body until he meets my eyes. "It's too much, Tate."
I feel the disappointment seep in with his words. He's still shaking his head, but he's walking to the nightstand. He picks up the box of condoms and opens it, then pulls one out and puts it between his teeth, ripping it open.
"I'm sorry," he says, frantically stepping out of his jeans. "I wanted this to be good for you. I wanted it to be memorable, at least." He's out of his jeans now. He's looking me in the eyes, but I'm finding it hard to keep eye contact with him, because now his boxers are off. "But if I'm not inside you in two seconds, this is going to be really embarrassing for me."
He walks swiftly to me and somehow slides the condom on at the same time as he's pushing my knees apart with his other hand. "I'll make it up to you in a few minutes. Promise," he says, pausing between my legs, waiting for my approval.
"Miles," I say, "I don't care about any of that. I just want you inside me."
"Thank God." He sighs. He takes my leg behind the knee with his right hand, and then his lips meet mine. He thrusts himself inside me so unexpectedly hard and fast I practically scream into his mouth. He doesn't stop to ask me if it hurts. He doesn't slow down. He pushes harder and deeper until there isn't any way we could possibly get any closer.
It does hurt but in the best possible way.
I'm moaning into his mouth, and he's groaning against my neck, and his lips are everywhere, along with his hands. It's rough. It's carnal and heavy and hot, and it's not quiet at all. It's fast, and I can tell by the tensing of his back beneath my hands that he was right. This won't take him long.
"Tate," he breathes. "God, Tate."
The muscles in his legs become tight, and he begins to shake. "Fuck," he groans. His lips press to mine, hard, and he holds himself still, despite the tremors moving throughout his legs and his back. He pulls his lips from mine and exhales a huge breath, dropping his forehead to the side of my head. "Jesus fucking Christ," he says, still tense. Still shaking. Still pressed deep inside me.
The second he pulls out of me, his lips are on my neck, moving down until they meet my breasts. He kisses them but only briefly before he's back at my mouth again. "I want to taste you," he says. "Is that okay?"
I nod.
I nod vigorously.
He pulls away from the bed, disposes of the condom, and returns to his spot next to me. I watch him the entire time, because--as much as he didn't want to know how long it's been since I've been with a guy--it's been almost a year. That's not anywhere near the six years he's waited, but it's been long enough that I don't want to miss this by keeping my eyes closed. Especially now that I get to stare freely at that V and not have to be embarrassed by the fact that I can't take my eyes off of him.
He's watching my body now with the same fascination as his hand glides across my stomach, then moves down until he reaches my thighs. He pushes my legs apart as he watches what he's doing to me with so much enthrallment I have to keep my eyes open so I can watch him watch me. Seeing what I do to him is enough of a turn-on without him even touching me.
Two of his fingers slide into me, and I suddenly find it a lot more difficult to continue watching him. His thumb remains outside me, teasing every spot it can touch. I moan and let my hands fall to the bed above my head as my eyes close.
I pray he doesn't stop. I don't want him to stop.
His mouth meets mine, and he kisses me softly, his lips a stark contrast to the pressure of his hand. His mouth slowly begins to explore its way down my chin until it's on my neck, the dip in my throat, trailing down my chest, covering my nipple, down my stomach, down, down, holy shit, down.
He settles himself between my legs, leaving his fingers inside me as his tongue meets my skin, separating me, causing my back to arch and my mind to let go.
I just let go.
/>
I don't care that I'm moaning so loudly I probably just woke up the entire floor.
I don't care that I'm digging my heels into the mattress, trying to pull away from him because it's too much.
I don't care that his fingers leave me in order to grip my hips and hold me against his mouth, refusing to let me climb away from him, thank God.
I don't care that I'm more than likely hurting him, pulling his hair, pushing him into me, doing whatever I can to reach a point so high I'm almost positive I've never been there before.
My legs begin to shake, and his fingers find their way back inside me, and I'm pretty sure I'm trying to smother myself with his pillow, because I don't want to get him kicked out of this apartment building by screaming as loudly as I need to scream right now.
All of a sudden, I feel as if I'm up in the air, flying. I feel like I could look down and there would be a sunrise below me. I feel like I'm soaring.
I'm . . .
Oh, God.
I'm . . .
Jesus Christ.
I'm . . . this . . . him.
I'm falling.
I'm floating.
Wow.
Wow, wow, wow.
I never want to touch the ground again.
When I've completely melted to the bed, he hungrily works his mouth back up my body. He takes the pillow off my face and tosses it aside, then kisses me briefly.
"One more time," he says. He's off the bed and back on it in a matter of seconds, and then he's inside me again, but I don't even try to open my eyes this time. My arms are splayed out above my head, and his fingers are entwined with mine, and he's pushing, thrusting, living inside me. Our cheeks are pressed together, and his forehead is against my pillow, and neither of us has the energy left to even make a sound this time.
He tilts his head until his lips meet my ear, and then he slows down to a gentle rhythm, pushing into me, then pulling completely out. He holds himself still, then pushes into me again, then pulls all the way out. He does this several more times, and all I can do is lie here and feel him.
"Tate," he whispers, his lips close to my ear. He pulls out of me and stills himself again. "I can already say this with one hundred percent certainty."
He thrusts back inside me.
"The."
He pulls out, then repeats his movement again.
"Best."
Again.
"Thing."
Again.
"I've."
Again.
"Ever."
Again
"Felt."
He holds himself still, breathing heavily against my ear, gripping my hands so hard they hurt; but he doesn't make a single sound while he releases for the second time.
We don't move.
We don't move for a long time.
I can't wipe the exhausted smile off my face. I'm pretty sure it's there permanently now.
Miles pulls back and looks down on me. He smiles when he sees my face, and looking at him brings it to my attention that he never once made eye contact either time he was inside me. It makes me wonder if this was intentional or if it was just a coincidence.
"Comments?" he asks teasingly. "Suggestions?"
I laugh. "I'm sorry. I'm just . . . I can't . . . words . . ." I shake my head, letting him know I still need a little time before I can speak.
"Speechless," he says. "Even better."
He kisses me on the cheek, then stands up and walks to his bathroom. I close my eyes and wonder how in the hell this whole thing between us will ever end well.
It can't.
I can already tell because I never want to do this with anyone else ever again.
Only Miles.
He walks back into the bedroom and bends down to pick up his boxer shorts. He picks up my underwear and jeans in the process and lays them on the bed beside me.
I'm guessing that's his hint that he wants me to get dressed?
I sit up and watch as he picks up my bra and shirt and hands them to me. Every time his eyes meet mine, he smiles, but I'm finding it hard to smile back.
Once I'm dressed, he pulls me up and kisses me, then wraps his arms around me. "I changed my mind," he says. "After this, I'm pretty sure the next nine days are going to be pure torture."
I bite my smile, but he doesn't notice, because I'm still wrapped in his arms. "Yep."
He kisses me on the forehead. "Can you lock the door on your way out?"
I swallow my disappointment and somehow find the strength to smile at him when he releases me. "Sure." I walk toward his bedroom door and hear him fall onto his bed.
I leave, not knowing what to feel. He didn't promise me anything more than what just happened between us. We did what I willingly agreed to, which was have sex.
I just wasn't expecting this overwhelming feeling of embarrassment. Not because of the way he dismissed me immediately after we had sex but rather for the way that dismissal made me feel. I thought I would want this to be strictly sex between us just as much as he does, but based on the beating my heart took in the last two minutes, I'm not so sure I'm capable of anything simple with him.
There's a small voice in the back of my head, warning me to pull away from this situation before things become too complicated with him. Unfortunately, there's a much louder voice urging me to just go for it--telling me I deserve a little fun in my life with all the work I've got going on.
Just thinking about how much I enjoyed tonight is enough to make me accept and even embrace his casualness afterward. Maybe with a little more practice, I can even learn how to enforce it myself.
I walk to my apartment door but pause when I hear someone speaking. I press my ear to the door and listen. Corbin is having a one-sided conversation in the living room, presumably with someone on the other end of his cell phone.
I can't walk in now. He thinks I'm in bed.
I look back at Miles's apartment door, but I'm not about to knock on it. Not only would that be awkward, but it would also mean he'd get even less sleep than he's already about to get.
I walk to the elevator and decide to sit out the next half hour in the lobby, hoping Corbin will go back to his bedroom soon.
It's ridiculous that I even feel I have to hide this from Corbin, but the last thing I want is for him to be upset with Miles. And that's exactly what would happen.
I make it to the lobby and step off the elevator, not quite sure what I'm even doing. I guess I could go wait it out in my car.
"You lost?"
I glance over to Cap, and he's seated in his usual spot, despite the fact that it's almost midnight. He pats the empty chair next to him. "Have a seat."
I walk past him to the empty chair. "I didn't bring any food this time," I say. "Sorry."
He shakes his head. "I don't like you for your food, Tate. You're not that good of a cook."
I laugh, and it feels good to laugh. Things have just felt so intense for the past two days.
"How was Thanksgiving?" he asks. "Did the boy have a good time?"
I look at him and tilt my head in confusion. "The boy?"
He nods. "Mr. Archer. Didn't he spend the holiday with you and your brother?"
I nod, understanding his question now. "Yes," I say. I want to add that I'm pretty sure Mr. Archer just had the best Thanksgiving he's had in more than six years, but I don't. "Mr. Archer had a great time, I think."
"And what's the smile for?"
I immediately wipe away the grin I didn't realize was plastered on my face. I scrunch up my nose. "What smile?"
Cap laughs. "Oh, hell," he says. "You and the boy? Are you fallin' in love, Tate?"
I shake my head. "No," I say immediately. "It's not like that."
"How so, then?"
I quickly look away as soon as I feel the blush creep up my neck. Cap laughs when he sees my cheeks turn as red as the chairs we're seated on.
"I may be old, but that don't mean I can't read body language," he says. "Does this mean you and the boy ar
e . . . what's the term they use now? Hookin' up? Bumpin' uglies?"
I lean forward and bury my face in my hands. I can't believe I'm having this conversation with an eighty-year-old man.
I quickly shake my head. "I'm not answering that."
"I see," Cap says with a nod. We're both quiet for a moment while we process what I more or less just told him. "Well, good," he says. "Maybe that boy will actually smile every now and then."
I nod in complete agreement. I could definitely use more of his smile. "Can we change the subject now?"
Cap slowly turns his head toward me and arches his bushy gray eyebrow. "I ever tell you about the time I found a dead body on the third floor?"
I shake my head, relieved that he changed the subject but confused that the subject of a dead body has somehow helped me find relief.
I'm just as morbid as Cap.
chapter fourteen
MILES
Six years earlier
"Do you think the fact that we shouldn't be doing this is why we like doing it so much?" Rachel asks.
She's referring to kissing me.
We kiss a lot.
Every chance we get and even chances we don't get.
"When you say shouldn't, do you mean because our parents are together?"
She says yes. Her voice is breathless, because I'm currently kissing my way up her neck.
I like that I take her breath away.
"Remember the first time I saw you, Rachel?"
She moans a sound that means yes.
"And do you remember me walking you to Mr. Clayton's class?"
She gives me another wordless yes.
"I wanted to kiss you that day." I work my way back up to her mouth and look her in the eyes. "Did you want to kiss me?"
She says yes, and I can see in her eyes that she's thinking back to that day.
To the day she
Became
My
Everything.
"We didn't know about our parents that day," I explain. "Yet we still wanted to be doing this. So no, I don't think that's why we like it now."
She smiles.
"See?" I whisper, brushing my lips softly across hers to show her how good it feels.
She lifts off her pillow and holds herself up on her elbow.
"What if we just like kissing in general?" she asks. "What if it has nothing to do with me or you in particular?"
She always does this. I tell her she should be a lawyer, because she likes playing devil's advocate so much. But I love it when she does it, so I always go along with it.
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