by Noelle Adams
“Can we talk?” he asked gruffly.
“Y-yeah.”
Patrick glanced over his shoulder toward the building. “Maybe afterward. When everyone’s left? Can I find you?”
She swallowed over a lump of tension—nerves and confusion and undeniable excitement. “Yes. You can find me.”
“I will then.” His eyes never left her face, and his look was deep, searching, almost intimate.
Could this possibly be what she thought it was?
Was Patrick rethinking their relationship?
She’d been so sure he’d made his final answer several weeks ago when he’d left her apartment. She had no idea why he might have changed his mind or what the change might mean in the long run.
Her heartbeat had sped up to a gallop, but she was too bewildered to indulge in any real excitement.
She’d been down this road before.
She wasn’t going to do it again unless she was sure he wasn’t going to reject her again.
So she just gave Patrick a little smile and walked toward the entrance, praying that she looked calm and natural—and not like she was about to burst into tiny pieces from the slightest nudge.
Patrick fell in step with her, but she didn’t dare to look over at his expression. When they got inside, she heard Ginny’s voice down the hall and headed in that direction while Patrick went on into the dining room, where his parents were chatting with Noah and Ryan.
Ginny and Emma were on their way into the women’s restroom, so Carol joined them.
“What’s up with you?” Ginny demanded when the door closed behind them. The restroom had two large stalls and a fancy countertop with two molded sinks. No one else was in there at the moment.
“Nothing,” Carol said, blinking at the stares from her two friends.
“Did Patrick talk to you?” Emma asked. Her expression was different from Ginny’s. Hers was almost… hopeful.
Carol nodded. “He said he wanted to talk.”
“Well, go talk to him!” Emma made a gesture at the door.
“He said afterward. After we’re all finished up here.”
Ginny clapped her hands together. “You mean you guys are finally going to work this out?”
Carol gave a little shrug. There was no sense in denying to her friends that something had happened with Patrick. She hadn’t told them much, but they knew enough to figure out the basics. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know what he wants.”
“Well, he’s not going to have made the point to talk to you like that if he didn’t have something important to say.” Ginny’s eyes were sparkling with excitement. “This is Patrick. He doesn’t do deep conversations for no reason.”
“I guess not.” Carol glanced over at Emma to see if his sister knew anything.
She obviously did. Something seemed to be trying to burst out of her, but she was doing her best to hold it back.
“Do you know what’s going on?” Carol asked.
Emma’s mouth twisted, and she gave a little nod. “It’s not right for me to say anything, but I don’t think it will be bad.”
Carol understood immediately. Emma couldn’t break her brother’s confidence, even in service of her best friend.
But some of Carol’s confusion faded at the knowledge that Emma knew and was excited about whatever Patrick wanted to talk to her about.
None of her anxiety faded though.
Even if Patrick wanted to try again with her, what exactly would that mean?
After a month and a half of trying to get over him, she knew all too well that she could only act on a sure thing where he was concerned.
She was too far gone. She was in this too deep.
And if he didn’t want a real relationship, then she couldn’t take the risk.
But maybe…
Maybe that was what he wanted.
Maybe he wanted the same thing she did.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll just wait and hear what he has to say.” Then she gave her head a little shake. “So let’s get back to what’s really important—which is your getting married tomorrow. How are you feeling about everything?”
Emma laughed. “Do you really think I’m having second thoughts or something?”
“Not really,” Carol admitted. “But I think some cold feet are pretty normal.”
“My feet are smoking hot.” Emma looked from Carol to Ginny. “I can’t wait to marry him.”
Despite her distraction, Carol felt a wave of emotion wash over her as she looked at her friend’s happy face. She was so happy for Emma. And for Noah. And for the way they’d found each other and never looked back.
“Do you need anything from us tonight?” Ginny asked, reaching out to take Emma’s hand. “Do you want to hang out or anything?”
Emma shook her head. “I want to go home and get some sleep. Although I’ll expect a text from Carol to see how the talk with Patrick went, no matter what time it is.” With her free hand, Emma stretched her arm out to grip one of Carol’s hands. “My getting married doesn’t mean you’re any less of my friends.”
Carol closed the loop by taking Ginny’s hand, and the three of them stood in a circle for a moment.
Ridiculously, Carol’s eyes burned with tears, and one even leaked out to stream down her cheek.
“Carol’s getting sappy,” Ginny said, her teasing tone breaking some of the tension, although her voice cracked slightly.
“You’re sappy too!” Carol smiled through her tears. “Don’t put it all on me.”
“It’s not all on you,” Emma said, sniffing a little. She hugged Carol and then Ginny and then said, “Okay. Now I’m going to pee, and when I come out of the stall, you all better not make me cry again.”
“No more crying,” Ginny agreed, although Carol couldn’t guarantee such an outcome, given the fact that she was already emotional.
“You all make sure to get some sleep too,” Emma said as she closed the door to one of the stalls. “I don’t want you all walking around dead on your feet tomorrow. Remember, we’ve got mani-pedis and hairstyling at ten.”
Carol laughed with Ginny, and she tried not to let her mind drift off to what Patrick might talk about with her later tonight.
***
Waiting to be alone with Patrick wasn’t as easy as it should have been.
Emma, Noah, and Nan left almost immediately. Nan was up much later than was her habit, so Noah was going to take her home after dropping Emma off for her last night in her apartment.
Ginny and Ryan hung around to chat for a little longer, but eventually they left too.
But Patrick’s parents just wouldn’t leave.
Carol really liked his parents. They were both professors at Virginia Tech, and they were kind and intelligent and loved to have long conversations about any number of topics. They were deeply informed on a vast variety of subjects.
She couldn’t help but wish they hadn’t picked tonight to get into a long discourse on wedding traditions throughout history.
Carol had lingered after the others had left, pretending to be puttering around with the flower arrangements while Patrick had been trying to encourage his parents out the door.
His attempts didn’t work. Instead, they’d sat down, sipped the last of the wine in their glasses, and rambled on until Carol was on the edge of screaming.
She could see a matching frustration on Patrick’s face, and she wondered if soon he would snap.
He didn’t though. He was a really good son, and he always treated his parents with respect, even when they wouldn’t shut up about what seemed to Carol some very disturbing wedding customs from the past.
Finally she couldn’t even pretend to have anything else to do in the room. So she said goodnight to Mr. and Mrs. Stevenson, gave Patrick a speaking look, and left the private dining room.
It was so late the restaurant was getting ready to close, so she went to her car and sat in the driver’s seat to wait.
Maybe the restaurant staff wou
ld be kicking Patrick and his parents out soon.
Ten minutes later, she finally saw them walking out the front doors of the building. Patrick walked with his parents until they reached their car. Then he waved at them as they got in.
He stood in place until they’d started to back out of their parking spot. Then he finally turned to look in the direction of her car.
When he saw she was still there, he strode toward her.
She opened her door and got out.
“I’m really sorry,” he said, approaching her quickly. “I think they were feeling kind of emotional about Emma, and being them, it translated into a long-winded history lesson.”
Carol smiled, relieved that Patrick was taking their conversation seriously. “It’s fine. You’re a good son.”
He looked vaguely surprised by the comment, but his expression softened as he gazed down at her. “You look beautiful tonight.”
She flushed and glanced down at herself. “Thank you.”
“Can we go somewhere to talk?”
“Sure.” She felt self-conscious and fidgety and like she just wanted to shake whatever he had to say out of Patrick. But that was hardly appropriate adult behavior, so she just smiled. “Where do you want to go?”
“My place is just a couple of blocks away. I walked, but we can take your car if you’d rather.”
“I don’t mind walking. I shouldn’t be driving anyway, after what I’ve drunk already tonight.”
“Did you drink too much?” He gave her a curious look as she grabbed her purse and locked her car. “Then maybe you won’t want what I managed to sneak out of there without my parents noticing.”
Curious, Carol peered into his saddlebag, which he opened for her. She giggled when she saw an expensive bottle of wine.
She kept giggling as they walked.
She tried to calm herself down, but she simply couldn’t.
She’d had three glasses of wine already, and Patrick was taking her to his place.
And he looked adorably warm and earnest as his eyes lingered on her face, like he was liking the look of her.
She really hoped he was.
Carol had only been to Patrick’s apartment a few times. They didn’t hang out at his place the way they did at Ryan’s, Noah’s, or hers. It was a small one-bedroom in a downtown building, and it was perpetually cluttered with books and papers and computer equipment.
She didn’t care though. The place smelled like him and felt like him, and he cleared off his leather sofa by haphazardly pushing the clutter off onto the floor.
After he’d done that, he went to get two wineglasses and a corkscrew out of the kitchen—which was set off from the living room by an island—and returned to open the bottle of wine.
She took the glass he offered her and sipped it, sighing in pleasure as the liquid hit her tongue. “This is really good.”
“Yeah. That’s why I snatched it.” He sat on the couch next to her, turning his body so it was facing her direction.
They looked at each other.
Carol had no idea what to say, so she sipped her wine again instead.
They sat in silence for a couple of minutes until Carol was starting to get annoyed. He was the one who’d wanted to talk to her. He was the one who was going to have to start the conversation.
She’d just sit here in silence all night if she had to.
Finally Patrick took a deep breath and let it out. “I wanted to… I wanted to say I’m sorry about what happened between us.”
That wasn’t what she’d wanted to hear him say. Not at all. Her fluttering heart sank a little as he spoke.
Surely he hadn’t made such a big deal about talking to her tonight, bringing her here and offering her wine, if he just wanted to say sorry again.
“You already told me that,” she murmured coolly. “You don’t have to apologize again.”
He shook his head. “I know. That’s not what I mean. What I mean is that I didn’t really mean it.”
She blinked. “You didn’t mean you were sorry?”
“No. Sorry. That’s not it.” He shifted on the couch and took a big swallow of wine. “I didn’t mean what I said after… after…”
Her heart was starting to flutter again. Trying to hold back the excitement until she was sure it was safe, she kept drinking her wine. “You said nothing could ever happen between us.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I know I said that. That’s what I didn’t mean.” He’d almost finished his wine. He was clearly uncomfortable, like he didn’t want to be having this conversation. He put his wineglass on the side table.
Carol was surprised to discover that her wine was almost gone too. She finished it off and set it down on the floor since there wasn’t a convenient table in her reach. “So it… so it can happen between us again?”
“Yeah. That’s what I… want.”
She frowned at him. “I’m sorry, Patrick, but you’re going to have to be a little clearer than that. You made it very clear that you didn’t want me, and now you’re saying that maybe you do. What the hell am I supposed to—”
She broke off the words abruptly when Patrick suddenly leaned over and claimed her lips in a hard kiss.
She shouldn’t kiss him back. Not yet. She knew in the back of her mind she shouldn’t. Nothing was settled between them yet, and they might not ever be settled in a way she was comfortable with.
But as soon as his lips touched hers, her body rose up in hunger, in need.
This was what she wanted, all she’d ever wanted. Patrick—warm and urgent and hard and eager and real.
Her hands flew up to hold on to his head as she started to kiss him back.
It got deep very quickly. Just a minute after he’d leaned into her, he had her pushed back on the couch, his body on top of hers, his tongue in her mouth.
Her body pulsed with heat and arousal as she grabbed fistfuls of the back of his shirt and tried to free her legs from her skirt so she could wrap them around him. Only when he reached down to hike up her skirt was she able to part her thighs the way she wanted, grind herself against him.
When he finally tore his mouth away from hers, she gasped out, “Patrick!”
He grunted and lowered his mouth to her throat, teasing and nipping in a way that made her arch up with another cry of, “Patrick!”
Only he could make her feel this way, like she was about to burst out of her own body.
“Baby,” he mumbled, pushing his pelvis down against her middle. He was hard in his pants, and she rubbed herself against the bulge. “Oh, baby, I need… I need… you… so much.”
She wasn’t sure he was even aware of what he was huffing out against her skin, but she needed to hear it, wanted to hear even more. She writhed beneath him and hooked her legs around his thighs so could feel him more intimately, feel his hardness against where she was hot and throbbing.
He adjusted so he could kiss her again, and they rocked together as they did. Carol genuinely didn’t know how much longer she could wait. If he didn’t find a condom soon, she was going to come just from this.
She broke away to take a raspy breath. “Patrick, please! I need you. Please!” She didn’t care how desperate she sounded.
She felt desperate. Frantic. Completely out of control for him.
He groaned and froze for a minute, then straightened his arms to lift himself off her. Fortunately, he must have thought ahead tonight because he had a condom in his pocket. He tore it open with shaking hands as she fumbled to free his erection from his trousers.
They both still had most of their clothes on, but she didn’t care. She just needed to feel him inside her. Right now.
When he’d rolled the condom on, she pulled him back down into position. He found her entrance by pulling her panties aside, and then he slowly edged his way in.
She moaned as he entered her, bending her legs up around his hips.
“Carol. Baby.” His eyes were devouring her face as he held himself above her on the couch.
She whimpered and rocked up her hips. “Please, Patrick. I can’t wait anymore.”
He bit his bottom lip as he started to thrust, his face twisting with the effort it was taking to control his motion. She groaned and arched up, matching his rhythm with her hips.
He couldn’t hold on to the steady rhythm for very long. Soon he was sweating and shaking and taking her fast and hard. She’d slipped her hands under his shirt so she could feel his skin, and soon she started to claw lines down his back as pleasure tightened intensely at her center.
“Harder,” she gasped, arching up as a climax built inside her. “Patrick, please. I need it harder.”
His motion grew harder, almost rough, shaking the couch, shaking her body, and she let out a helpless cry as her orgasm broke in intense spasms. He kept pushing into her as she came, extending the pleasure. She was practically sobbing as he let himself go. Nothing had ever felt this way—so intense, so real, so raw.
Patrick let out a muffled bellow as he came too, and he jerked against her as he worked through his own climax. Then he fell down onto her, panting and blazing hot.
She couldn’t move. Didn’t want to.
“Baby,” she heard Patrick say against her hair.
Her heart melted.
She clung to him until his body relaxed. Then she had to let him go so he could take care of the condom. When he lowered himself back onto the couch with her, she made room for him between her legs and wrapped her arms around him.
She was still sensitized from her orgasm, her channel still clenching a little, and she whimpered when she felt his fingers stroking her intimately.
He kissed her softly, gently, massaging her clit with his thumb until she came with a helpless whimper. “I love to make you come,” he murmured.
“Um-hum.” She couldn’t form any words. Her body was hot and pliant and relaxed, and he was still fondling between her legs.
“You’re so sexy. So responsive. You come so beautifully for me.” He gazed down at her as she came again against his hand. “There you go again. Look how hot and gorgeous you are.”
She felt hot. And gorgeous. And sexier than she ever had in her life. She didn’t know how he was doing this to her, but she wasn’t even close to being done. Her body wanted even more.
