I clenched down hard as I teetered on the edge, letting out low, quiet whimpers.
"Come Elsie," he demanded, his tone tense.
Then he slammed forward, tilting up slightly once fully inside, and I did.
My entire body shook as my muscles contracted hard around him, a throbbing, seemingly endless wave of pleasure that had me crying out his name. At the sound, he buried deep, dropping me back onto my feet, and came.
I was still trying to even out my breathing as he slowly slid out of me. I pushed myself up on my elbows, but didn't trust my legs to fully hold me yet. Paine leaned down, grabbing my panties and moving them up my legs and into place. He went back for my pants, struggling with them slightly. Then he slid an arm around me, just under my breasts, and pulled me backward against his chest.
"You alright?" he asked, nuzzling his face into my neck. I felt my head nod tightly and his other arm snaked around my lower belly, both of them tightening hard enough to almost cut off my air. "Sure? I got a little carried away."
I drew in a breath that was still a bit shaky. "I like carried away."
He was in the middle of kissing my neck and I could feel his smile against my skin at my words. "Good. Now go get cleaned up. I'll strain the spaghetti."
"Okay," I agreed, sliding out of his arms and making my way out of the room. I went up the stairs, grabbing some more comfortable clothes, meaning gray yoga pants and a black long-sleeved tee, cleaned up, then made my way back downstairs.
"Knew you had to have at least one pair of those things," Paine said as I walked in, carrying the plates over to the island.
"Why?" I asked, brows drawing together.
"To have an ass like that and not have a pair of yoga pants would be a crime against fucking humanity, that's why."
Then we sat and ate the first real meal I had ever made. Paine led most of the conversation, talking about Shooter and Breaker, how they met, the crazy things they had been involved in. He explained how Breaker met Alex and how Shooter met Amelia, doing so with a fondness that made it clear he wasn't just friends with the women because they came along with his friends, but because he genuinely liked them. Alex, he said, was some kind of computer hacker who could be a bit standoffish at first, but once she warmed up to you, was pretty funny. Apparently watching her and Breaker fight was the highlight of almost every gathering. Breaker liked to pick at her and she always rose to the bait. It sounded downright popcorn-worthy. Amelia, Shooter's girl, was a drug and alcohol counselor. She could occasionally come off as prickly, but was soft underneath it all.
When he was done and we were just sipping wine, he asked about Rome, him being the only truly close friend I had.
I felt almost guilty talking about him with Paine, like it was a betrayal to both of them somehow. Which was ridiculous. But, after a while, I was smiling and laughing as I told him about all the stunts we had pulled together, the vacations we had gone on, the things we had helped each other through: my mother's death, his mother's stints in rehab before she finally got sober five years before, my father's relentless, demanding presence, our breakups, our failures and successes.
"Babygirl..." he said when I finally ran out of things to say. The word hung heavy with meaning.
"I know," I said, looking down at my empty plate.
He nodded, letting it drop, and moved to stand. "You the type who can't go to sleep with dirty dishes?" he asked, bringing both of ours over to the sink.
"I have no idea. I doubt it."
"Good. Then let's go to bed."
Then we went to bed.
Tired and, quite frankly, a little sore from our earlier carnal activities, we just went to sleep.
--
Again, I woke up in my blanket cocoon. And, again, I realized this with a smile. I immediately rolled to my side, looking over at the nightstand. I found another two pictures. I sat up against the headboard and reached for them. The first was a picture of a tattoo gun, which I took to mean he had to get to work. The second, well, the second one was of a man with a red woolen tunic under an armored chest and shoulder plate, a helmet, a sword, and a giant red shield. It didn't take a history major to recognize a Roman soldier. Also, the man had a startling resemblance to Roman. Underneath was a scribbled "set this straight".
So I guess that was what he expected me to do with my day. I wondered if that meant I wouldn't be seeing Paine after work because he wanted me to finally have that supremely awkward conversation with Roman.
And then I internally yelled at myself for thinking that thought because it was a bit too needy early on in our, er, relationship. Hell, as far as I knew, it wasn't even a relationship at all. So I definitely shouldn't have been thinking thoughts like that.
So I totally didn't think about the way his eyes got bright when he talked about his friends, soft when he talked about his friends' girlfriends. I also did not wonder if it meant something that we were at the point of something serious because we were having sex without condoms. If what he said was true and he always used them and I had only ever not used them with one serious long-term boyfriend in my early twenties, that kind-of implied we both felt like there was something different between us, right?
"Augh!" I growled at my reflection, pissed at my internal monologue and annoyed because my hair was doing that 'I'm not going to lay right no matter what tricks you try to tame me' thing. A little rougher than necessary, I tied my hair back. I applied more of the tattoo cover-up, threw on the barest hint of mascara, and headed out the door. The bruises were getting better. I figured by Sunday dinner, there would be next to nothing left there anymore. Which was good because half of the tube of that tattoo stuff was gone.
I got into my office a full hour before anyone, except the early morning cleaning crew, showed up. I pulled out my phone and texted Roman asking him to come over so we could chat after work. It took him almost an hour to answer me, which wasn't like him, saying yeah.
So then I worked.
Seven-thirty rolled around and I wrapped things up, checking my phone on my way out the door and realizing I didn't even have Paine's number. I mean I knew the number to his shop, but not his cell. And, as far as I knew, he didn't have my number either. I was pretty sure that was a pretty huge sign that we weren't in, or heading into, something serious.
I kept up these swirling, infuriating, frustrating thoughts the entire drive home, pulling up beside Roman's car in my drive. He was climbing the steps and looked back at me over his shoulder and, just like that, my thoughts finally quieted. Because I had never seen Rome look as beat-down as he did right in that second. I threw my car into park, grabbing my stuff in a rush, slammed my door, and almost ran up the steps to meet him inside my front door.
"Rome, what's up?" I asked, watching him hit the code before turning back to me, giving me a second to stash my bag, phone and keys.
"Guess you haven't seen the news," he said, his voice almost hollow.
"No," I said, shaking my head as I followed him into the kitchen. I couldn't remember the last time I actually watched TV. I caught that movie with Rome and then about two minutes of the game Paine was watching, but that was it. "What's on the news?"
"We got robbed, Else."
"Robbed?" I repeated, moving toward the coffee machine to make a fresh pot.
"An entire truckload of cold medicine meant for all the pharmacies in the state."
"Cold medicine?" I repeated, brows drawing together.
"It's a fucking PR nightmare. You have any idea how tightly that shit is regulated now? We tried to keep it quiet when we first investigated, but we had to report it and now it's all over the news."
"Aw, Rome... I'm so sorry. I wish I had known... I could have..."
"Nothing you could do, Else. Besides, you have your own stuff going on."
"Stuff?" I repeated, not liking the tone he used.
"I was going to drop in last night. I had pizza and another movie..." he paused, lookin
g down for a second before meeting my eyes. "You had a car out front."
Shit.
Well, I guess it wasn't going to be as awkward a subject to bring up as I thought. "Rome..."
"It's the tattoo guy, isn't it?" he asked bluntly.
"How did you..."
"Else, I've known you your entire life. You get dragged out of a bar by that man then come back in lips all swollen and bent on drowning something in alcohol. It wasn't too hard to come to the conclusion something was going on there."
"I was planning on telling you tonight. I just... it's new and I wasn't..."
"I've loved you all my life," he cut me off, the sensation of a stab wound searing through my stomach. "Around sixteen, seventeen, it became more than that."
"Why didn't you ever tell me?"
He let out a humorless laugh. "And fuck up the chance to spend my time with you because you didn't reciprocate? I'm not stupid, Elsie. I knew you always saw me as a brother. And I would always rather have a best friend who was clueless to the fact that I was in love with her, than to never get to see the woman I loved again because she felt guilty for not loving me back."
"I love you Rome," I said sadly.
His hand covered mine and squeezed. "But not like that."
"No," I admitted reluctantly.
"So I need to let go already," he said, dropping my hand.
"Rome," I said, my voice a plea.
"I'll always be here for you. Always. But I need to move on." He moved toward me, arms going around my shoulders, pulling me against his chest. I always liked that about Roman, his hugs. All other guys put their arms around my waist to hug me, leaving me to put my arms around their shoulders. Rome was always different. My arms went around his waist tight, tight enough that I knew I was making it hard for him to breathe, but not caring. He pulled against my hold, dropping a kiss on my forehead. "I'm glad you found someone. I want you to be happy."
"I want you to be happy too," I agreed, feeling the familiar sting in my eyes and I knew I was going to start crying.
"Don't," he said, knowing me too well. "It's not goodbye. No crying," he said, pulling away and putting yards of space between us.
See, the thing was, in a way, it was a goodbye. It was a goodbye to the intimacy of our friendship that I had always viewed as chaste and due to knowing each other so long, but was really the result of his feelings for me. It was the end to me feeling comfortable talking about sex and boyfriends with him.
I heard the door open and the bleeping of the alarm started. My eyes shot to Rome who had a look of resigned understanding. The bleeping stopped and Paine's footsteps came toward us. As soon as he was in the kitchen, he made a beeline for me, putting an arm around my waist and kissing the side of my head. And it was such a clear message that he was claiming me that the knife thing started in my stomach again.
A shutter moved down over Rome's eyes and he shook his head slightly, turning his attention to Paine. "I hope you end up deserving her."
"If I don't, you'll be there for her. That's big of you."
Rome visibly shrank away from the praise of a man he knew was having sex with the woman he loved, but nodded tightly. "She's worth it," he said, turning to move out toward the dining room.
I moved to follow him, but Paine's arm tightened and held me in place. "Rome," I called, but the front door clicked closed and I knew he wasn't coming back. Not anytime soon anyway. Alone, I wrenched away from Paine, shoving him hard in the chest as I turned. "That was not necessary!" I screeched, my voice shrill, as close to a yell as it had ever gotten during an argument.
"Babygirl, it was," Paine said, voice calm, moving toward me.
"No, it wasn't. He had just admitted he loved me since we were sixteen and that he knew it was time to let go and you came in here acting all alpha-dog claiming his fucking beta. That was really shitty of you," I seethed, backing up as he kept advancing.
"Baby..."
"Don't 'baby' me. Pet names don't erase that you just..." my voice hitched and I shut my mouth to keep it from becoming a full-on sob.
"Hey," he said, his voice suddenly soft as I backed up into the counter and he came up in front of me. His hand raised and his fingers brushed the first tear off my cheek. I ducked my head only to find myself crushed up against his chest, his arms wrapping me up tight. And, well, something about being held opened up the floodgates. "It's gonna be okay," he said softly, the arm around my upper back loosening slightly so he could reach up, pull my hair tie out and run his fingers through my hair.
"He's... not going to... want to be around me," I sobbed into his shirt.
"Stop. You know that's not true. He loves you. He might need a little more distance than you're used to, but he won't go anywhere."
"You don't know that."
"I know you."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, doing an oh-so-attractive sniffle.
"I don't know you one-tenth the way he does and I know a man would be out of his mind to stop hanging around you just 'cause you don't want to fuck him."
"Don't be crass."
"Just honest."
I pulled against his hold slightly and he loosened enough so I could swipe at my cheeks. "I still think it was shitty of you to do that," I reminded him, not willing to let it go.
"You gotta remember something, babygirl. Men and women, we communicate differently. You guys like to choose your words and pussyfoot around the issue so as to not cause any conflict. Men don't do that shit. In fact, if we can get our point across with a look or gesture instead of words, we will. You don't get it, but Roman did."
"He got what?"
"That you're mine. And what's mine is mine and he better the fuck not cross any lines with you from here on out."
I'm pretty sure my entire body froze at that, including my heart. It just stopped dead in my chest for a second. "Yours?" I choked out after several awkwardly silent seconds.
"Yeah, mine," he said with a squeeze of the arm around my hips.
"I'm... yours?"
"You been paying attention, baby? It was you I fucked in your bed, right? And it was you who met my friends and my mother. And I'm pretty fucking sure it was you who I've been leaving notes to every morning. And I'm almost damn positive it was you I fucked raw in your kitchen last night. Know you don't know me that way, Elsie, but that's a big fucking deal for me. I don't do that. I don't lead women on if I plan on getting shot of them. And I never, as in ever, fuck a woman without protection. So you and me, we have something going on here."
"Okay," I said, ignoring the way my stomach was swarming with happy little butterflies, because I knew that for my peace of mind, I needed actual clarification. "But... what does that mean? What does 'something going on here' mean exactly?"
"I'm sure it's pretty clear by now that I've never been a relationship guy."
"It's come up," I agreed, lips tipping up slightly.
"So this is all new to me. I don't know what you're looking for here. You need assurances? I have none of those. You want labels? You're mine. Call it what you want: girlfriend, partner, main squeeze. I don't give a fuck. It all means the same thing: mine."
"So, as it stands, this," I said, waving a hand between our bodies, "is a relationship? It's exclusive and..."
"Babygirl, when I say you're mine, I mean everything. Mouth, tits, ass, pussy. It's all mine. And in case your mind is going there, let me shut this shit down right now. That means everything I got is yours too."
The fluttering thing intensified. "You don't think maybe this is a little... fast?"
To that, he put his head back to look at the ceiling and let out a sigh before looking back down at me. "What? You want six weeks of sitting across from each other in restaurants and talking about our favorite colors and all that bullshit that means nothing? We got something here. Only way to fuck that up this early on is to over-analyze it to death. So quit it. Let it happen."
Let it
happen.
"Okay," I said, though a part of me knew there would always be that niggling little voice in the back of my head begging me to over-think every little thing. I was convinced it was a voice all women were born with.
"So we're good."
"Yeah, we're good."
"Thank Christ because I'm starving."
"Listen," I said, smiling, "I think me cooking one meal a week is plenty fair."
"Chinese?" he asked, already releasing me to go fetch a menu from on top of the microwave.
"Sure. Lo mein," I said, walking out toward the dining room. "I'm gonna go get changed."
I hemmed and hawed over my pajama selection for a truly embarrassing length of time. Agreeing we were in a relationship certainly seemed like the occasion to slip into a slinky nightie. But we would be eating dinner and a delivery guy was going to show up...
Eventually, I settled on a baby pink silk nightie, no bra or panties because the length was decent enough. Then I found a white and pink floral silk robe and slipped it on, knotting it. It would be a fun little surprise for later.
Or, at least, I thought it would be.
That was until I got into the living room to find Paine sitting on the couch, some rerun of a sitcom on the TV. He wasn't actually watching it, but it was on and the volume was almost to the point of being loud. "Not a fan of silence, huh?" I asked, leaning against the doorway.
He looked up, eyes running over my robe, brows drawing together slightly. "Grew up in a two bedroom apartment with two sisters, a mom, and a grandma in a building that was constructed with the thinnest walls imaginable. Then, with the gang, there was always men and women around. It was never quiet. Silence feels unnatural to me," he explained, tossing his phone onto the coffee table. "Come here," he said, patting his knee.
I rolled my eyes, but crossed toward him, moving to sit on his thigh like he had requested, but he grabbed me instead and pulled me to straddle him. His hands went immediately to the knot I tied and worked it out. He parted the material and a slow, sexy smile spread across his face. His hands drifted inward, sliding to cup my breasts. At the warmth of his skin on the cool material, my nipples hardened against his palms and his eyes went hooded.
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