I chuckled quietly, pulling the spoon out of my mouth. “Are you an alcoholic?” I asked him bluntly.
“No.” His answer was simple and came without pause. “No. I do, however, tend to deflect pain by masking it with other things. I just decided I don’t want a bottle of the-easy-way-out sitting nearby when things get messed up in my head again.”
I nodded. He yawned, and the sight of his yawn made me yawn too.
“I should get going,” I said.
“You don’t have to.”
I smiled. “I have an early call with my dissertation director tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll wake you up early.” He bit his lower lip as he waited for me to say something.
I wasn’t sure what to say. I wasn’t sure what he was even asking. But as I stood there trying to figure it out, he yawned again and took my hand, pulling me toward the hallway. I followed him, my nerves prickling with something that fell between excitement and absolute terror.
He stripped out of his T-shirt when he walked into the same bedroom he’d always had, and I looked around. It wasn’t a mess, it was just a sad, old rundown room. I reached out to a broken knob on the dresser that I remembered, even now, from childhood. He stepped behind me, pushing his hands up under the back of my T-shirt. He undid my bra, and then he helped me pull the straps down from under the short sleeves of my shirt.
When his hands reached around and fumbled with the waist of my pants, I held my breath. He pushed them down to pool at the ground, leaving my underwear in place, and then I felt him undoing his own pants as he kept his body close to mine. His breath touched the back of my ear, and he leaned down kissing the top of my shoulder.
He took my hand, leading me to the side of the bed, and I crawled in as he followed me. The mattress sat on the floor, and there was nothing plush about it. But the sheets, blanket, and quilt smelled clean like his skin.
The bedside lamp was on behind him, and as I rolled toward him, he watched me. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t frowning. He just watched me, pulling me up close to him, his legs intertwined with mine. He brushed the hair off my forehead, and he trailed his finger down along my jaw.
“I’ve missed you so fucking much,” he said quietly. “Nothing has made sense in my life without you.” His thumb stroked over my chin.
“I missed you too.”
He studied me for a while, not closing his eyes, not saying a word, and it was odd and comfortable at the same time. It gave me a chance to study him too, and I did. He was aging well, and he still looked young and handsome—even if he carried a heavy past.
I reached for his chin, stroking the whiskers.
“What are you thinking?” I asked him.
He looked at my mouth. “That I’ve never kissed you. And that I want to. Very much.”
I bit my lower lip, and he smiled. When I leaned to his mouth, his eyes opened wider for a moment, but then they fluttered. After that, I was too close to see or care what his eyes were doing. I was also entirely too stunned by my own actions to think straight.
My lips met his, and I could feel his whiskers tickling my chin. He moaned this deep low sound from the pit of his chest, and I could feel the vibration of it. He sucked on my lower lip, tugging it gently and then releasing it so he could capture my top one between his. His hand met my cheek, his fingers curling behind my jawline and pulling my mouth harder to his, and the kisses came fast then—one after another.
My top leg was between his thighs, and the smacking sound of our lips left warmth in my groin as I rocked against his thigh.
“Oh, fuck,” he murmured between kisses. “You’re torture. Do you know that?” But he never stopped kissing.
He finally groaned through gritted teeth, forcing his kisses to move off my mouth to my cheek and then down the side of my throat to the crook of my neck that met my shoulder. He stopped kissing, breathing heavily against my skin. I could feel the hardness and the size of his erection against my top thigh that was sandwiched between his legs.
“There is nothing frigid going on between your legs right now, Hell. The heat coming off your * is intense,” he said with his lips to my skin.
Yes it was. I sighed as my hips stopped trying to screw his leg like a dog in heat. What the hell was going on inside me right now?
“Go to sleep, baby,” he whispered even as he still breathed heavily. “I don’t think either one of us are ready for this yet.”
I pulled back, trying to figure out if I was offended or not.
He smiled instantly. “Tell that analytical brain of yours to shut up. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”
“How did you mean it?” I asked.
He yawned again, but his expression became intense and focused. “This is a complicated thing for us.” He glanced over my shoulder for a moment, but then he looked back at me. “I always kind of assumed it would be me,” he said simply. “Your first. And in some twisted way … I’m still glad I was.” The side of his lip pulled up, but it fell just as quickly.