As Long as You Love Me

by Ann Aguirre

  “Have you decided on countertops?” There were no counters or lower cabinets at all. He’d built the upper ones from scratch, then finished them with a lovely, mellow stain. Rob used half of the garage as his workshop, but really, he should have a separate building. If he started getting orders from our venture, like I hoped, then I’d suggest it.

  “Do you want to see?” He was adorably eager to show me.

  “Definitely.”

  He got his phone and flipped through to a picture he must’ve taken in a showroom somewhere. The pattern was earth tones, varying brown, caramel and dark chocolate. “Looks like granite, but easier to care for and more durable.”

  “I like it. I bet it’ll be beautiful.”

  “I’m holding off on buying it until I get the cabinets finished. You want to stay for dinner? I just need to shower and sweep up the dust.”

  “You shower, I’ll take care of it.”

  “I can’t let you clean my kitchen.” By his expression, you’d think I had suggested something truly scandalous.

  “You can if you expect me to eat here.”

  “Fine.” Rob drew me close in a tender gesture.

  I breathed in his warm, delicious scent: cut wood, touch of clean sweat, along with the freshness of his soap. My eyes drifted closed. It wasn’t in him to hurry this, and I stretched up to savor the heat of his mouth. His restrained longing flavored it with a sort of tempered urgency, his lips firm and knowing as he deepened the kiss. Already, he knew I liked it when he nibbled my lower lip, when he teased with his tongue and cupped my ass to pull me up against him. My pulse trebled, and it took all my composure not to grab him when he eased back and rested his cheek against the top of my head.

  “Wow,” I whispered.

  “There will be more of that after dinner. You know, it gets a little harder to let go of you every time I have to do it.”

  “You’re just showering, not moving to China,” I teased.

  He raised his head, taking hold of my shoulders with a wicked gleam in his blue eyes. “Any chance you’re feeling dirty?”

  “Only always.”

  I giggled as he pounced and princess-carried me up the stairs. “Wait, I’m supposed to be sweeping the kitchen.”

  “Yeah, that’s a hard choice—naked girl in the shower with me or fully dressed downstairs. Sometimes I wonder about your life choices.”

  “If you get me naked, I might not care about dinner,” I warned.

  “I already don’t.”

  Rob started the water, and I stripped out of my clothes, then I got to watch him get naked. Working construction year after year, along with his side projects, gave him a body that made me drool. It was even hotter that his muscles came from actual work, not gym equipment, along with the rough hands that felt so good when he touched me. From broad shoulders to chest to abs, he was mouth-watering. Maybe I should be ashamed of objectifying him, but from his expression, he was doing the same thing to me.

  “You are so gorgeous,” he murmured.

  His shower wasn’t necessarily designed for two people, but we made it work. Washing up definitely qualified as foreplay, as I melted thoroughly, running soapy hands all over his body. What started out playful turned serious pretty fast. Rob didn’t even let me wash my hair before he turned off the water.

  “Are we done?”

  “In here, we are.”

  “I suspect you of having nefarious intentions.”

  “I intend to make love to you.”

  “Cosigned.”

  We kissed down the hall, still shower-wet, dripping on the floors. The air was cold on my back, but with Rob plastered to my front, I didn’t care. His hands were everywhere. More kissing, endless shivers of it, his mouth, my tongue, his teeth, his hands on my ass, hauling me closer, so his cock burned against my belly.

  Rob tumbled me to the bed, tangling our legs together. With a wicked grin, he rolled me beneath him. “So many things I could do to you...”

  “Make a list,” I suggested, breathless.

  I expected him to get down to it, but he went back to kissing, caressing my sides in long, lazy strokes. There was a new dimension to his touch, an intimacy I’d never known with anyone else. Fear prickled to life, white noise interrupting the pleasure. Before long, Rob noticed, and he rolled to the side, a frown knitting his brows together.

  “You’re not into it?”

  This was going to sound so stupid. “No, well, yes, but—”

  “What?”

  “It felt different.”

  “Not as good?” I groaned, covering my face with both hands. He pulled them away and pressed a kiss to each palm. “Talk to me.”

  There was no way I could explain the difference between fucking and making love out loud, but I knew when I felt it. Yet if I brought up the L word, he might feel pressured to say it, and I wasn’t ready to say it back. My breath came in a nervous shudder as a shiver went through me, not the good kind, the about-to-melt-down-for-no-reason kind. Sometimes I hated my brain and would happily trade it for a beard of bees.

  “I can’t,” I managed.

  “Did I do something wrong? Hurt you? Has someone...hurt you?” By the clench of Rob’s jaw, if the answer was yes, he’d put on pants and go kill that somebody.

  “No, no and no.” I scooted toward him and put my face in his chest, willing myself to calm down before this escalated.

  “Come here, beautiful.” The gentleness of his voice, paired with his strong arms, nearly unraveled me. “Just tell me what you want. If the answer is this, that’s fine. We can lay here.”

  For a few minutes, I matched my breathing to his, and the worry scaled back. The fact that Rob cared enough about me to change how he touched me? That was a good thing. We didn’t have to be in a hurry to define this or slap a label on it. Rob was silent and patient, just running his hands through my hair like that was all he wanted in the world.

  “Okay, I’m better now. But seriously, how does this not piss you off?”

  Like most of my questions, he took this one seriously. Most guys would be like, It does, I still want to bang you. Rob eventually said in a thoughtful tone, “I don’t understand why you freeze up, but...that’s not new. I’m used to not getting things. So you just have to tell me what to do, and if you can’t, then I’ll wait until you can.”

  Right then, I almost blurted out how much I loved him. But I was afraid he wouldn’t believe me, so soon on the heels of my freak-out. He might take it for gratitude, and though it wasn’t, I had to save the confession for the right time, preferably not when we were both naked. Sex also contributed to people blathering stuff they didn’t mean.

  When we made love, it was tender and slow, so gentle that I almost cried when I came. And that had never happened before. He wrapped his arms all the way around me, coming in for a kiss as he worked faster and faster, thrusting to a hot, trembling finish. I tasted his orgasm in the gasping breaths against my lips. Unlike the last time, Rob didn’t roll away immediately. He was big enough that when he shifted his weight off his arms and onto me, I sank into the mattress. The heat and weight of him didn’t make me feel trapped, though. I loved holding him, stroking him through the afterglow.

  We skipped dinner entirely that night.

  * * *

  The rest of the week went fast. On Thursday, I got word from admissions that I’d gotten into the computer science online program. Rob and I celebrated with dinner at the roadhouse, and then I spent the night at his place. He convinced me to start leaving a few things to make it easier to get ready for work. Truthfully, I didn’t require much persuading.

  Friday night, Avery picked me up on time. Krista and Jillian were already in the car. Since Avery drove a cute, powder-blue Beetle, that left Jillian and me in the backseat. I climbed in after Krista flipped t
he seat forward for me.

  I hadn’t gotten a great look at Jillian that day at Walmart, but up close in Avery’s car, I recognized her from high school. Jillian Martinez was a chubby girl with brown hair and dark eyes. Her dad was from Mexico; God only knew why he’d decided Nebraska was the best place to settle. Maybe he really loved snow and agriculture programs. From her frown, Jillian hadn’t forgiven me for stealing Rob. Which seemed weird since he was Avery’s boyfriend, and if she was over it...

  Jillian fixed a hard stare on me as I settled beside her. “So I hear you’re having Rob’s love child,” she said.

  My mouth dropped open. “Holy shit. Already? Doesn’t anyone in this town have a life?”

  “You grew up in Sharon,” Avery said. “So there’s your answer.”

  “Is it true?” Krista peered over her shoulder at me.

  “Lord, no. I made it up to discourage my pervert boss, who was about to offer me the lucrative position of chief knob polisher.”

  Avery made a sound in her throat, almost a growl. “Men like that should be castrated.”

  “How many baby daddies is that now, Lauren?” Jillian aimed a sugary smile at me.

  “That’s enough. I already told you, we talked and it’s cool.” That was Avery, shutting down the bitchiness before it got started.

  But I figured, Why not answer? “Two since I’ve been home. If the rumors keep spreading, I’ll end up with a litter, each from a different sperm donor. I could sell them for fifty K a pop, Rent-a-Womb, Inc. What do you think, awesome get-rich-quick scheme, yes or yes?”

  “Speaking as someone who’s currently the size of a tuba, I can only say, ouch.” But Krista was laughing as she said it.

  Avery snickered, and Jillian unwound enough to grin at me. We drove through town and out to the highway; the scenery was pretty much all snowy fields, shadowed by the dark sky overhead. We cracked jokes all the way to Whitney, twenty minutes past Edison.

  When I realized where we were, I said, “Jillian. Now you have to tell me what we’re doing.”

  She answered, “Just Jill is fine. And have you heard of the Thunder From Down Under?” At my nod, she added, “Well, it’s like that, only low-rent.”

  “We’re going to a strip club? Why didn’t anyone tell me? I don’t have any singles!” I half thought they were screwing with me until Avery pulled into a gravel parking lot, just off the interstate. There was a whole lot of nothing around this place, but the neon lights that read JOKERS WILD told a fairly compelling story.

  “It’s usually women, but once a month, they bring in some dudes,” Avery told me.

  “I’d watch the girls,” Jill said.

  “I have watched them.” A few times, I’d gone out with guy friends in Michigan, and on those weird nights, we ended up in a strip club while they salivated and I drank. But drinking had gotten me into a lot of trouble, so I’d be careful tonight.

  “Okay, the only rule of girls’ night,” Krista put in, “is that we don’t talk about guys, other than to admire the ones shaking it on stage. No boyfriend talk, no relationship advice, got me?”

  Avery nodded. “I like that plan.”

  Jill and I agreed to the terms as we hurried across the parking lot, shoulders hunched against the bitter air. Inside, it was warmer, and like a show club straight out of some 80s music video. I stifled a laugh when I realized there were five people in here, not counting us and the staff. Three women and two men. The guys seemed to be together, which couldn’t be easy around here. Mentally I saluted them and wondered how Angus was doing back in Michigan; he wasn’t just my roommate, but also one of my best friends.

  I should call him.

  “Let’s grab a table near the stage.” Krista led the way, giving the impression it wasn’t her first time. The music was just cuing up as we sat down and ordered.

  Sadly for the man-candy, the guys willing to take their clothes off around these parts weren’t much to admire. The first stripper was incredibly thin—to the point that I wanted to bake him some cookies and knit him a scarf. He could dance, though, so that was something, and he did some interesting things with a fire extinguisher. But the point was to joke around with each other, not stare at hot dudes, and we did until Krista bolted for the bathroom.

  When she came back, she shook a finger at Jill. “You have to stop it. I don’t have any panty liners left.”

  That only made the rest of us laugh harder. I only had a couple of beers and Krista didn’t drink at all. Avery and Jill, on the other hand, slammed back shots until I was impressed they weren’t falling out of their chairs. Jill leaned over and put her hand on my arm, waving me closer with the other one. Smirking, I tilted my head for whatever drunken confidence she was about to impart.

  “Sorry I misjudged you.”

  Wow. I didn’t expect an apology.

  Oblivious to my surprise, she went on, “Avery told me you guys talked. I’m sorry I was a bitch at Walmart, it’s just...she hasn’t really ever been with anyone...and, well, I thought maybe Rob... Fuck it, I’m not supposed to talk about dudes, never mind.”

  Damn. That was just starting to get good. But rules were rules.

  So I said, “Don’t worry about it. We’re good now, right? I could use some people to hang with in Sharon.”

  “Yep. If Avery believes you, that’s okay by me. Oh, my God, look at that guy.”

  When the tear-away pants came off, the first thing I noticed was gold lamé underpants. It looked like he was smuggling a salami down there. He was extremely tanned and fit, so my gaze lingered on his chest and thighs. I gradually worked my way upward, only to jolt in my chair when I realized the face I was looking at belonged to a guy old enough to be my granddad.

  He caught my eye and winked. Pretty much everyone in the club was on their feet, howling in support. I chucked a five-dollar bill onto the stage. His number was campy as hell, the most original choreography we’d seen all night. I screamed when he did a little twirl, just like the guy in the song, who was also too sexy for his shirt. Jill held on to my shoulder, staring up in what could’ve been drunken adulation.

  “God, I hope I’m that much fun when I get old,” I said to the table.

  “Amen, sister.” Krista winced and put a hand on her belly.

  “Crap. Too much excitement? Should we go?” It wasn’t that late, but I’d die if we ended up delivering a baby in a strip club. Try explaining that to the paramedics.

  “No, it’s false labor. I’m told it’s normal in the last few months or so.”

  “Wow, so you’re about to pop,” Jill marveled.

  Krista scowled. “I’m not a balloon.”

  “Could’ve fooled me,” Avery mumbled.

  I snickered.

  “Screw you guys, especially you, Lauren. You’re supposed to be my sister in solidarity.”

  “Because of my faux gestations? I wonder if I could work up a hysterical pregnancy like dogs do.” I widened my eyes at Krista. “Would that make you feel better?”

  “Only if you actually get fat and milk shoots out your nipples.”

  “That would be superawkward to explain at work.”

  “But think of the credence it would add to the story you told your boss,” Avery pointed out. “What are you doing about that anyway?”

  “Hell if I know. I guess I’ll lose the baby in a few weeks, and I feel horrible saying that when women are going through it for real.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Jill said, surprising me. “If you didn’t work for such a complete creeper, you wouldn’t even be in this situation.”

  “True,” Krista said. “Somebody should teach that asshole a lesson.”

  On stage, Gold Lamé Grandpa took an impressively limber bow. The guys at the next table whistled as he walked off stage. Avery propped her chin in her hands
, an odd and disturbing darkness in her green eyes. With one fingertip she ringed the top of her glass.

  “It’s true,” she said quietly. “He should definitely pay.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  In early April Rob finished the kitchen and cooked dinner for us, which we ate in the gorgeous dining room. It was amazing how much progress he’d made on the house—and how much I’d actually helped, if less so in the past month since I started at the dealership. Though I missed lending a hand, it was good to have money coming in.

  But we made sure to record weekly vlogs, and his views just kept increasing. At last count, he had an incredible number of subscribers. Rob didn’t seem to realize how much promotion I was doing at night after I went home. He also didn’t know about the ads I’d purchased for him, promoting his business. He was adorably excited when the furniture orders starting coming in. Not a ton, one or two a week, but it was more than he’d expected.

  Maybe one day, he can make a living at this.

  That night, I mentioned buying a car, but Rob shook his head. “That makes no sense. Just drive the truck, it’s not like I’m using it. Save your money for tuition.”

  I started to argue, then I decided it was smarter to keep quiet and do as I pleased. Since I’d never owned my own car, I wanted one, end of story. But I couldn’t think of a way to explain it that didn’t end with us arguing and me yelling, You’re not the boss of me.

  The week after, he went back to working construction full-time. The weather had warmed enough to make that possible, and I paid for my first round of classes. With no other living expenses, I didn’t give up on the idea of my own wheels, however, no matter what Rob said. So six weeks after I started at the car lot, I got one of the salesmen to make me a deal on a trade-in. My credit was nonexistent, so he took $500 down, subsequent payments to be deducted from my paycheck for the next eighteen months, after which point I’d own my car outright. So working for Davies had some perks after all.

  After work, I drove home to meet my mom. Rob had a longer drive since he worked outside of Sharon, and I’d felt a bit sneaky enlisting my mom to help me return his truck on the sly. But she approved of untangling our affairs because “it’s a bad idea to be dependent on someone you’re dating.” Based on what I’d seen when her life disintegrated, she wasn’t wrong.