by Lori L. Otto
“Yeah,” she says shyly. “They’re weird. It’s the only place I have freckles anywhere on my body.”
“They’re lovely,” I correct her, beginning to count them. “Seventeen,” I tell her.
“Really?”
“Yes. Five on the top, twelve spread out randomly below.”
“I didn’t realize there were that many.”
Seventeen. Five on top. I get a flashback from a poetry class in college.
I begin to recite a poem as I tap the rhythm on her skin, each syllable represented by another small speck on her pale flesh.
“One transcendent kiss
That later makes lovers take
Soft breaths, holding hands”
“That was beautiful,” she says, shivering when I kiss what has now become my favorite part of her. “Who wrote that?”
I look up at her, amused by her question. “That’s your haiku. One syllable for every freckle.”
“You wrote that?” I nod to her. “When?”
“Just now. Just for you.”
She looks at me, stunned, before a smile breaks across her face. “Say it again,” she whispers.
I clear my throat before beginning. “One transcendent kiss,” I say as I rise from the bed. Standing in front of her, I lift her chin so our eyes can meet. My stomach tightens as my thumbs brush over her dimples.
She takes a deep breath. “One transcendent kiss,” she repeats. I watch her closely as she moves toward me. Just another inch or two, and her breasts would be touching my torso. Her soft lips on mine, they move in sync. The sweet taste of her just makes me want more. My hands move slowly down her body. “Go on,” she whispers, exposing her neck to me.
“That later—” I speak softly against the hollow beneath her ear, tracing her earlobe with my tongue. Curious, I press kisses on her shoulders, her collarbone, then finally reach my destination. My lips surround the areola on her right breast.
“That later–” she gasps headily as I suck lightly, her fingernails digging into my naked back. Not wanting to ignore her left breast, I do the same, and am rewarded with a soft moan escaping her lips. I could abandon the poetry altogether at this point, and continue to find more actions that may yield the same response. It’s a beautiful sound, but I decide to continue my recitation, wanting to see her expression when I declare what we are; what we’re about to be. My lips move back up her body, stopping for a gentle peck on her forehead.
She waits in anticipation for my next words. I hold her head inches from mine, watching her eyes, the skin of her cheeks, as I deliver my next line. “Makes lovers—” My gaze seems to move through her, and she doesn’t blink as she repeats me.
“Makes lovers–” Her skin blushes a bright pink, as I had suspected it would. She would never be able to hide her reactions from me, something I had noted long ago but could never truly appreciate until now. She moistens her lips, then smiles. I lean back in to kiss her again, the passion between us beginning to boil up to the surface. Our kisses are soft and deep, fast and needing. I break away only when the need to inhale overcomes me.
“Take soft breaths—” I say quickly, drawing in the air around me, my heart racing.
“Soft breaths–” She wastes no time, either, her lips returning to mine for more. Her hands press into my flesh, traveling down my torso, pushing against my boxers. Trailing kisses down her body quickly, I stop when I reach the lacy hemline of her panties. Her breathing is expectant and shallow. I look up to her one last time. Her fingers direct mine beneath the fabric, permitting me to remove the soft garment from her body. She steps out of them as I stand back up, pushing my own underwear to the floor. She takes my hands in hers and holds them tightly at our sides. I kiss her once.
“Holding hands,” she finishes the poem.
I stare at her in silence for a few seconds before concluding her haiku.
“Holding hands.” I swallow hard as we stand before one another, completely exposed. Her hands still in mine, I wrap my arms around her back and pull her body tight against mine, her breasts pressing against me. I hold her wrists in my left hand, releasing the right one to explore her body. I drag my fingers slowly across her pale skin, hovering around her most sensitive area. She slowly puts her foot on the bed behind me.
“Touch me, Nate.”
Fuck, I never thought I would hear those words. Before I do as she asks, I place my hands on her cheeks to kiss her. I hope she knows how grateful I am in this moment.
My fingers returning to her, I watch her closely, hoping to read each expression to learn her likes and dislikes. Her body stiffens as my fingers press against her.
“Relax,” I tell her softly.
“I’m just nervous,” she admits.
“We can stop–” I offer, but don’t stop what I’m doing.
“No,” she cuts me off. “I want this–”
“Good.” I can feel the tension drain from her body as she begins to let go of her inhibitions.
“Oh, god, Nate,” she sighs. “Kiss me again,” she begs.
As my lips find hers once again, one of her hands moves to my hair as the other grazes my stomach, then saunters lower. My body quivers at her touch, and I can feel her smile in the kiss as her fingers wrap around me.
“Shit, Emi,” I hiss in her ear before moving my tongue down her neck and across her shoulder. My fingers press against her lower back as my other hand continues to garner welcome responses from her. Her body seems ready and receptive, and I wonder how much longer I can continue our foreplay. It’s been so long since I’ve been with any woman, but to have her here makes the desire, the need, even worse– and at the same time, having her, having her here, makes everything so much better.
I remove her other hand, feeling the immediate absence but knowing there is something much better around the corner. I put my hands on her hips and guide her to the bed, pulling the comforter and sheets back for her. As she settles in, I open the nightstand drawer, preparing myself.
“You okay?” I ask her as I climb under the covers with her. She answers with a passionate kiss, her arms pulling me closer. Eliminating any space between us, I continue my earlier exploration with my fingers.
“Oh, my god, that... where...” she breathes, incapable of speaking in complete sentences.
“Is that good?” I ask. Hitching her knee up over my hip, I want her to feel how much I want this, too. I touch her behind and pull her toward me until our bodies are perfectly aligned. She hooks her leg behind me and pulls me on top of her.
“Oh, god,” she says again at the contact. I hold my body over hers, and press against her slowly, listening to the quiet moan that escapes her lips. Such a beautiful sound that I never thought I would be lucky enough to hear. I push again, just to hear it once more. I kneel back, pulling her knees up next to me and kissing each of them, trying my best to prolong the experience, but knowing I’m too weak for much more. I lean in to her navel, tracing it with my tongue before allowing it to travel further up her torso while my fingers continue to explore other parts of her body. She pulls my head up to hers. I kiss her once before telling her how I really feel.
“When I imagined this night, this was supposed to be much more romantic, but damn it, Emi, I have to have you. I don’t think I can wait any longer.”
“I want you to want me like that,” she says reassuringly. “It’s okay. I want to feel you.” I stare into her eyes once more, kissing her again, hoping it communicates my devotion and assurance to her.
With my arms around her, our focus only on each other, we lie back against the pillows on the bed, and the moan from earlier suddenly becomes the second most beautiful sound as she gasps softly, our bodies finally connecting for the first time.
We move together slowly at first, but I find myself unable to contain my excitement, the many fantasies I’ve had of her becoming reality right before my eyes... right beneath my body. Her limbs wrapped around me, tighter, tighter still, I let go when I can’t hold out
any longer. She runs her fingers through my hair as I shudder into her, my tongue tracing the slope of her neck, my breath heavy and warm on her skin.
“Don’t leave me,” she pleads with watery eyes as I begin to pull away.
I push myself up using my elbows to look at her directly. I kiss her deeply before responding. “Emi,” I vow, my lips still inches from hers. “I promise I will never, ever leave you.”
“Nate,” she whispers, tears now falling down her cheeks as she blinks.
“What’s the matter?” I ask her, my thumbs poised to catch any more errant drops.
“I just,” she says quietly, swallowing hard. “I can’t believe we just...”
“Are you okay?”
She smiles through her tears and nod. “I’m completely overwhelmed, that’s all.” I start to kiss the tears away. “Everything was too easy. It’s too perfect. Everything just coming together like this? Can you believe it?”
“Yeah,” I tell her. “You were meant for me.”
“I think I was,” she says, biting her lip.
“You were.” We kiss for a few more minutes, lazy, tired kisses, until exhaustion takes us both to sleep.
The next morning, I wake up early and carefully remove myself from the bedroom without waking her. I shower and get dressed before deciding to make Emi breakfast in bed. God, I hope she’s not regretting what happened. Her words from last night still play in my mind. It does feel like everything was too easy, too perfect.
When I quietly walk in the room with a tray of food, her back is to the window. She squints away from the sunlight with a smile on her face. She reveals her bare arm from beneath the sheets and pulls the blankets up to make sure she’s covered.
“Good morning,” I tell her quietly from the doorway.
“Morning,” she says, her voice a little hoarse.
“I made some breakfast, if you’re hungry.” She makes a face and shakes her head.
“Is that OJ, though?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll take that. And a few aspirin, if you have any.”
“Sure.” I place the tray on the dresser and fetch the medicine from the bathroom. “You don’t feel well?”
“It’s just a little headache. And my whole body hurts.” She blushes when she smiles.
“I hope you’re not getting sick.”
“Trust me, Nate. It’s a little hangover, and the soreness... well...”
“Got it,” I tell her as I sit next to her on the bed. “A good pain, then...”
“I like to think of it as well-earned.”
“Okay,” I laugh, planting a kiss on her lips. “Sit up.”
Still holding tightly to the sheet, she sits up in the bed. I arrange some of the pillows and move into the bed behind her, running my fingers gingerly down her beautiful, exposed back. “What are you– ohhh,” she says, her body beginning to relax immediately as my fingers knead her shoulders, then continue to move lower, slowly. “That’s nice, Nate.”
“You are so tense, Em.”
“I didn’t sleep very well,” she admits.
“Really?” I slept so soundly, I would never have known if she had been restless. She shakes her head. “Why?”
“I was just thinking about things. I had kind of hoped we’d talk about things after... you know...” She sounds disappointed, and already I feel like a complete ass.
“Oh. What about?”
“How this is going to work, that’s all.”
“Well, we can talk now. I wish you had woken me up.”
“See, these things, I don’t know about you,” she says, clearly frustrated. “If I wake you up, are you going to bite my head off, or roll over and talk to me all night? How am I supposed to know?”
“Em,” I begin, massaging her tight muscles in her lower back a little harder. “We’ll learn. Don’t stress about that. And in the future, always wake me up. Just give me five minutes to get my wits about me.”
She nods, sitting up straight so I can see the movement. I kiss her shoulder slowly, wanting to soothe her, to relax her, to get her mind off of anything stressful. I want her to feel nothing but pleasure and happiness and confidence in us for the rest of the weekend. My hands creep slowly under the sheet up to her breasts, my lips moving to her neck. She stiffens immediately, clutching my hands with hers.
“I think I had a little too much to drink last night,” she blurts quickly. Knots immediately settle in my stomach.
“What?” I ask, unsure of her meaning. I drop my hands to her waist, wrapping my arms around her and resting my chin on her shoulder.
“I hadn’t intended on things happening like they did,” she says seriously as she dips her head toward her lap. I move her hair from obscuring my view of her face. Her beautiful green eyes are hidden behind her closed lids.
“How did you want them to happen? When you came into my bedroom last night, what did you want to happen?” I hear the anger in my voice, but didn’t mean for it to show.
“Not sex. Not like that. My head wasn’t completely clear.”
“What? Emi, it wasn’t a mistake. We are meant to be.”
“It’s okay, Nate,” she says as she turns around on the bed to face me. She fumbles with the sheets, trying to pull them over her chest, trying to hide her nakedness from me. I was already turned on, and seeing her like this only makes it worse. Knowing now is not the time to take advantage of my desire, I take off my t-shirt and help her put it on. She thanks me quietly before continuing. “I want this. I do. It would have happened eventually. I just wish we had talked about all the consequences and risks and stuff before we just dove in, head first.”
“Okay,” I respond. “So we didn’t have the talk. Instead, you let me show you how much I care about you for the first time in our lives, and for that, Emi, I am grateful and have no regrets whatsoever.” I hold her hands in mine.
“What have we done?” she says with a quiet laugh, and my heart falters in my chest.
“Shit... Emi...” I say, all the air escaping my lungs with the two syllables of her name. After a few deep breaths, I continue. “It wasn’t a mistake.”
“Really?”
“It’s not a mistake,” I repeat. “We are not a mistake.”
“No,” Emi says. “We’re not.” I sigh, relieved. “Having a relationship is not a mistake. Starting it this way is.” She looks at our hands, avoiding my stare.
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“I’m not.”
“Emi, we started this years ago.”
“No,” she disagrees. “Uh-uh.” She shakes her head, looking up at me through her lashes.
“Yes, we did. Wouldn’t this be the next step?”
“Um... no,” she answers, speaking as if we’re both using different languages to communicate with one another.
“Isn’t this why you came here?”
“I came here to talk.”
“About us.”
“Yes, about us, about my feelings for you...”
“You said you wanted this.”
“I did,” she states quickly. “I do.”
“Because you initiated it. I would never have taken it that far–”
“Yes, you would have,” she cuts me off. “Sex is your thing.”
“No, I would not have. Don’t say shit like that.” Her disbelieving stare bores into me, and I escape it by removing myself from the bed and walking to the window, considering what she thinks about me. “If you really believed that, you wouldn’t be here, right now.” I turn around to challenge her, see her green eyes glint in the sunlight.
“I don’t want it to be true. I want it to be more.”
“It is already so much more, Emi. I have feelings for you... I always have...”
“I couldn’t sleep last night,” she says. “I wanted to talk, but you were out cold in, like, ten minutes.”
“I’m sorry, Emi.” I return to the bed, kneeling beside it and pulling a pillow into my chest, suddenly emba
rrassed by my behavior. I got what I wanted from her, and went to sleep. I’m not even entirely sure I was able to fully satisfy her. That thought hadn’t occurred to me until this moment, and I’m moderately disgusted by that. I tuck my head into the feather pillow and continue my explanation, the sound undoubtedly muffled, but I can’t look at her right now. “I haven’t slept well since I left New York. Every night, I’ve been torturing myself with thoughts of what my life would be like without you. It’s been one constant nightmare for me. And it felt so good to be with you last night.”
She huffs at the end of my sentence, causing me to look back in her direction.
“That’s not what I meant, Em. Just to have you here, felt good. It relaxed me. I felt comfortable and settled for the first time in months. I let myself enjoy that... in kissing you, in holding you, in making love to you... in sleeping. I needed it. All of it, I needed it.
“And when I woke up this morning, it felt like everything just fell into place. Until right now.”
“Have we messed this up already?”
“No,” I tell her, adamant. “Why would you think that?”
“It’s just... I want this to be real.”
“It is real.”
“I don’t know,” she wavers. “You just broke up with Kiersten a few weeks ago... what if you’re just... I don’t know, lonely?”
“My god, Emi, you must know that’s not what’s going on here.”
“I should. I want to believe it. The Nate I know jumps from one woman to the next, though.” I stare at her, frustrated with her assessment. She runs her fingers through my hair. “There is no down time.”
“And do you want to know why that is, Emi?” I ask as I shrug away from her, the volume of my voice increasing with my level of frustration.
“Kind of, yes.”
“I have had to have a constant distraction to keep myself from pursuing you.”
She laughs with suspicion.
“Emi, seriously. Since I got to LA I haven’t been on a single date, and I’ve been approached... I’ve been asked... but I wanted to be alone to make sure of my feelings. They’ve been muddled for years. Don’t think for a second that I’m taking this lightly.”
