And then he rubs it in.
I close my eyes, blocking all extraneous stimulus and every sense but touch. The world narrows to the ridges of his finger pads massaging his essence into my skin. He rubs it into the swollen lips between my legs and roughly over my nipples, melding us in the most primitive way. When the pleasure is too much to contain, I come again. Differently. Soundlessly. Noiselessly. My whole being sighs. My body with the release of such passion, it steals my voice. My heart, which for one devastatingly gorgeous moment, stops, pauses in my chest in reverence. And my soul stills, quieted by the presence, the possession, of its mate.
“We’re wrinkling.”
I lift a bare, wet arm from the cooling bath water to show Jared my puckered fingertips. He’s behind me in my claw-foot tub, his arms sheltering my shoulders and my head tucked into the curve of his neck.
“I see.” He catches my fingers, briefly kisses the tips. He links his hands with mine on the lip of the tub. “What do you think about a hike today?”
“Oooh.” I arch my neck to look at him over my shoulder. “That could be fun.”
“Maybe Temescal Canyon?”
“I haven’t done that one. I love the sound of that.”
It feels strange sometimes that we . . . date. That we do normal things together like go to movies or the theater, eat dinner or walk on the beach. I grew up with the ocean close by, and I missed it when I lived in New York. Our schedules are so hectic, but when we snatch time to be together, it’s to do simple things like that. Just breathing in ocean air and appreciating a majestic sunset and learning new things about each other all the while.
We’ve only been together a few weeks, and it’s quiet. Not many know, only our closest family and friends. Zo and I released a joint statement explaining that our relationship had been platonic for months, but we had decided not to discuss it while we were navigating his illness. That put his “te amo” from stage in a different light, that of a man appreciating his best friend for standing by him through hell. Which is what it was, what we are, even though it took Zo some time to accept it.
“Uh . . . what time were you thinking?” I ask, touching the powerful legs on either side of me.
His skin slides against mine behind me with a shrug.
“Two?” He pulls the wet hair from my neck and kisses the curve. “You have something to do?”
I’m quiet for a few seconds. I’m still involved with Zo’s care now that we’re back in LA. With chemo behind him, the medical team is monitoring his body’s response. Preparing for the next stage, stem cell replacement, is a complex process that includes a battery of tests ensuring his organs are healthy enough for the procedure. Then follows a lengthy recovery that will largely isolate Zo, nearly quarantining him because of how the process will strip his immune system down to nothing. He’ll have very few visitors.
But he’ll have me.
“Yeah, I do have a few things to take care of.” I clear my throat before going on. “I need to check on Zo.”
It’s quiet behind me, the only sound the water lapping against the tub with each slight subtle shift of our bodies.
“Does it bother you?” I finally ask softly. “That I’m still so involved with him? With his care?”
“Yes.”
I try to be a no-judgment zone for Jared. We love each other deeply but are made so differently. We’re both fiercely protective of the ones we love, but Jared has a tight filter for who gets in, for who gets loved. I’m glad I made the cut.
“Thank you for being honest with me.” I turn in the tub so I’m facing him. “I can’t abandon him.”
“I know that.” His lashes are lowered, screening his eyes from me. His face is implacable, chiseled into tight lines and sharp angles. “I don’t want you to abandon him. That wouldn’t be who you are, but it still bothers me because I know he’s in love with you.”
I can’t deny that. It’s an odd situation I have us in, but I’m not sure how to get out and live with myself. I know there will come a time when I’m less involved, but Zo is nowhere near out of the woods. With the stem cell process looming ahead, he is actually about to enter a deeper, darker forest in some ways. This would be the worst time to leave him.
“At least we’re not living together,” I say, my attempt to soothe the frown from his handsome face. “Me and Zo, I mean.”
Our things are scattered between Jared’s apartment and my house, but most nights we end up here.
He does grin at my hasty clarification and traces my lips, my cheekbones, leaving a damp trail in the wake of his finger.
“I knew what you meant.” He kisses my nose. “My lease is up in a few months. We could discuss it, if you want.”
My stomach lurches and my breath hangs in my throat. My heart triple beats.
“Sure, we can talk about it.”
I glance down, studying the contrasting textures of our bodies in the water. My skin a little darker. His rougher, golden-hair dusted. There’s no self-consciousness about my nudity, about my body. Yes, I’m in the best shape I’ve ever been, but it’s not that. I’m still a double-digit girl in a single-digit town. I work out and eat right, but Mother Nature took her time spreading these hips and this ass. My curves are toned and firm, but they ain’t going anywhere any time soon, and I’m fine with that. I’ve grown to love that. Jared loves it, too. I used to think being with a man like him would make me more self-conscious. If anything, with his love as a constant, I’m more confident than ever.
“Hey.” He tips my chin up so I meet his eyes, which are laughing, content, blue. “It would be a very short conversation. I want to live with you. To wake up with you every day. What do you say?”
His grin is teasing and infectious. As complicated as our careers, our lives are, it’s simple when it’s just us. And I love when it’s just us.