CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Him and Everything about Him
The flight back to school feels interminable. I wish the Boston-to-Madison trip could happen in an instant because I just want to be back in my dorm. The weather does miraculously cooperate, though, so at least I am not made to suffer through countless delays that end in a cancellation. By the time I land, I am nearly desperate to get to Matthews. Because I have no one to pick me up, I accept that I’ll have to pay a small fortune for a cab to deposit me back at school.
James left Boston yesterday, the day after our talk, and I took one day to shut down the house before I caught my flight. I didn’t bolt, though. Returning to school is not about running away. Being home in my parents’ house for that long was hard, especially coupled with James’s revelation. It’s going to take time to deal with my brother’s lie and what it did to me. There’s no way to fix things between us overnight, or even in the next few months. I’m going with the assumption that I’ll forgive him when I’m ready. I feel good because I made major progress in more ways than one over break, but it was time to go. Had I stayed any longer, I could have undone the good things, the “successes” that I can add to my mental list. They are hard won and I am not giving them up.
Only when the cab is a few miles from the dorm do I realize something. Something crucial. I cannot f*cking get into the dorm. It won’t reopen for another week. How could I be so dumb? Last year I heard someone in one of my classes bitching about getting locked out when he came back early because Matthews temporarily changes the locks or something, so I know that my key won’t work.
I direct the cabdriver back to downtown Madison while I do a fast search on my phone for a hotel. F*ck it. I’m going to stay in the nicest, most expensive hotel I can find for the next week. No homework or trekking across a frozen campus—instead, lots of bubble baths and room service. After filtering my search results by price, highest to lowest, I call the first one, the Madison Grand Hotel and Suites, and book a room. Technically, I book a suite.
Despite the rather generic name, the Madison Grand is indeed grand, and the staff is extremely gracious and professional as they check me into my room, asking about my day of travel, whether I’m hungry, whether there is anything else they can get me. Something to eat? Extra pillows? Towels? Dry-cleaning service? I’m sure they are thrilled to have a six-day suite booking at this dull time of year, and I laugh as I acknowledge to myself that I enjoy how they fuss over me. Hotel staff are not supposed to be substitutes for parental love, but I’ll take what I can get. I need pampering, and if I want to imagine their concern for my needs is the equivalent of parental caretaking, I will.
After my bags are delivered to my suite, I unpack almost everything. I hate living out of suitcases, and this suite is going to be my home for six days. The dark espresso furniture is modern and sleek, and the massive window overlooks the sparkling lights of the city.
In the bathroom there’s a whirlpool tub with shutters that unfold to overlook the bedroom, allowing for a view through the suite’s windows of the night sky. After a raid on the vanity basket of high-end products that will surely cost me plenty, I run a warm bath and soak for twenty minutes, trying not to think of anything but the sensation of the water. I shave everything that should be shaved, plus a little more, and wrap my hair in some weird mud product that is supposed to enhance the shine. Later, I rinse off and refill the bath with clean water and turn on the jets. Holy crap, this is awesome.
The swirling water dances over my skin, dances everywhere, and before I know it, my hand is between my legs. The chaos and emotion of my trip home weren’t exactly conducive to arousal, but clearly my body is needing to compensate for that down time. This tub could hold another five people, but I’d settle for just one more. I’m aroused enough, and I could probably make myself come, but I take away my hand after a few minutes. There is nothing particularly interesting about this for me right now.
It is not my touch that I want.
I know I shouldn’t fantasize about Chris, but I can’t help it. Giving in to my ache, my fingers move between my legs once again. My brain starts running a movie reel of what Chris and I could do together, how I would touch him, how he would sound and move. I brace my foot against the side of the tub as I shove a finger inside myself. Flashbacks of Chris doing this to me heighten the feeling, and I move faster. It’s easy to conjure up exactly what he did to me against the door to my room, exactly how he affected me. I remember his sound, his touch, and every graphic, perfect word that he said to me. I think about his touch between my legs, how he got me so totally wet, how I could feel his cock press against me when he held me tight …
I stop my hand. God, what is wrong with me? I’m momentarily surprised that I’m thinking in such raw, graphic terms, but have to admit that even though I’ve never said the word out loud, it suddenly seems exactly right. I remember the way Chris dirty talked his way through making me come so hard in my room and realize that side of him seems to have rubbed off on me. Maybe it’s no surprise I’m thinking with such X-rated abandon now.
F*ck. F*ck!
I take my hand away in irritation. I don’t want to come by myself. It’s not enough anymore. The fact is that I am a senior in college, and I want to have sex. To be more accurate, I want to get f*cked until I can’t see straight. Classy, I think. But that’s what I want. Unfortunately for me, that is not going to happen right now.
I stand up and check the vanity basket again to see what other products I can smear on myself. The foot scrub could be appealing, except that I hate the smell of fake raspberries, so I investigate further. There is, of all things, a vibrator in a discreet sealed box nestled in with the bath salts. I don’t pick it up—I’m not after that kind of touch, either. The pack of condoms and lube in there seem to be laughing at me. I scowl at them, hurl both through the open shutters, and watch them land them on the bed. Then I grab a nice innocent jar of salt scrub. This is not going anywhere erotic.
Later, after I’ve dried my hair and thrown on comfy black leggings and a snug camisole tank top, I order a huge dinner. There is no point in getting dressed up, and I’m happy to be wearing clothes I can stretch in. My muscles still feel limber because I was able to get a temporary membership to a gym back home, so all of my hard work wasn’t undone over break. As I reach for my toes, I am happy to notice that my flexibility continues to get better every week. By the time my food arrives, I am limber for no good reason.
I dim the lights, take the first of my dishes, fettuccine Alfredo, to the big armchair and stare out at Madison while I pick at my food. Now that I have three extraordinarily fattening entrees in the room, I’m not hungry. What I am is worked up and cranky and sexually frustrated. I sigh at the picturesque view out the window. The downtown city lights shine brightly, particularly the capitol building, which is encased in a luminescent white glow.
After a few more bites, and a good gulp of the room-temperature gin and tonic that I mixed for myself, I roll the cart into the hallway, catching someone from room service as he leaves another room. I take a silver bucket from the table and head for the ice machine near the elevator. Might as well continue raiding the minibar.
Just as I turn the corner back to my room, I see him coming out of a room at the far end of the hall.
Chris is walking toward me, strolling casually down the hall with his hands in his jeans pockets. I’m unable to move until he finally looks up and sees me.
“Well, hey, you,” he says with a smile. He is tanned and excruciatingly gorgeous, and I nearly faint. “What are you doing here?”
My chest is probably visibly heaving. I drop the bucket and walk quickly toward him. He’s got to see how I am looking at him, how I am essentially in heat. Chris meets me halfway, and I grab a fistful of his T-shirt in my hand and pull him in tight. I lift my mouth up close to his. “I need you,” I say, each word deliberate and loaded. I’m not sure, but I may have actually growled.
I keep him close as I back up and lead him to my door.
“Blythe, what are you doing? I thought we agreed that we weren’t …” But his hands are on my waist, then under the top of my leggings, and he is following my steps without any protest.
I smile. “Shut up.” I reach behind me and wave my key card. The second I hear the door unlock, I slam down on the handle and take us into my room.
Now it’s his turn up against a wall.
His mouth tastes like orange soda, which I find spectacularly adorable, and I kiss him long and hard. And not because I like orange soda. My hands are practically clawing through his hair and over his chest.
I can tell that Chris is surprised by how aggressive I am, but I don’t really care. And he gets over it quickly, because as I continue to kiss him, his hands move over me. He’s digging his fingers under my ass and lifting me up and against him. Already we are moving together in a way that we haven’t before, even that night in my room. Despite our height difference, we fit perfectly, and feeling him press his hips into me makes my ache for him climb. Even through his jeans, I can feel how hard he is.
As I continue to kiss him, I find his waistband and yank his shirt out until I can touch his abs, and stroke his lower back and ass. Then I come back to the front of his jeans, stroking him with one hand and undoing his belt with the other. He gasps and leans his head against the wall. “Blythe,” he whispers into my mouth.
I breathe in my name from his lips. “Yeah?” I say back, unable to hold back a smile.
“I don’t know if this is smart,” he says, yet his hands are now over my breasts, getting my nipples hard.
“I think it’s brilliantly smart,” I manage.
“But we can’t … get involved. I told you, I’m not boyfriend material.“
“I know.” I rub my hand against the front of his jeans a little harder.
“We’re friends. I don’t want to screw this up.”
“Me neither. We won’t.”
“You’re just saying that now, but later it could feel different.”
“I’m a big girl, and I know what I want.” And I do. I don’t know where my confidence with him has come from, but I’ve got it.
“You know how much I care about you, it’s just more than I—”
“Christopher.” I interrupt him and pull back until I am looking him directly in the eyes. While I appreciate his checking to make sure that I’m cognizant of what I’m doing, I also know that he is as ready for this as I am. “I don’t want you to be my boyfriend.” I unzip his pants. “I want you to f*ck me.”
He is breathing hard, and it takes him a moment to speak. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He looks at me with heat in his eyes now. “I can do that.”
“Good.”
He moves fluidly to help me get him out of his unzipped jeans, and I place my hand over the front of his blue boxer briefs. He groans and touches his hands lightly to the side of my head as I kneel in front of him and graze my lips against the fabric. I slide a hand between his legs and move it far back until I have his ass in my hand. I pull him against my mouth. I always thought maybe I’d feel tentative during my first blow job because it would be new to me, but instead, I want him and everything about him immediately. I know that he can feel the heat from my breath. With the other hand, I pull down the front of his boxers and immediately touch my tongue to him. My need for him is powerful, urgent, and I feel delirious that I am finally getting to touch Chris in the way that I want. I lick his entire length.
Chris lets out a sound. “God, Blythe… .”
I have a moment of wondering if I’m doing it right, and then I let the worry fall away. It’s a blow job, not rocket science. I could care less about rocket science. What I do care about is that the noises Chris is making are pure pleasure.
I pull his briefs all the way down and start to sweep my tongue slowly over him. F*ck, he feels so good on my lips. Every taste of him makes me want more. When I move up a bit and then wrap my lips around him, Chris groans loudly. Now I know why he wanted to hear me, to know what I sound like, because listening to him is incredible. I take him deeper into my mouth and then pull back again. Slowly I find a rhythm that seems to work for both of us. I have no idea if I’m doing what he likes, but I don’t appear to be doing anything wrong either. I circle my hand around the base of his cock and slide up and down with my mouth. The way he sounds and the soft touch of his fingers in my hair makes me crazy. As much as I’m dying to make him come like this, it’s not what I want most right now, so I stop as soon as I feel like he might be too close.
I pull down his pants and briefs all the way and stand back up while he steps out of them. Chris wraps his arms around me and draws me in. Our kissing is heated and rushed now, our roaming hands not able to get enough of each other. He barely gets me out of my leggings and underwear before he lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He walks us a matter of feet away, and I swipe the box of condoms that I’d conveniently tossed on the bed after my failed masturbation attempt.
“Thank God,” Chris says as he takes the box from me and then sets me on top of the dresser.
He puts his hands over my breasts—just roughly enough that I can feel how much he wants me—and I lean back on my hands. He looks f*cking amazing right now, still half dressed in his navy T-shirt and pinching my nipples through my tank. I have to shut my eyes for a second when he runs the shaft of his cock up and down between my legs.
Yeah, we’re not going to need the lube from the vanity. I’m definitely wet.
I can’t take it anymore. I feel like I’ve been waiting an eternity for this. “You have to f*ck me,” I pant. “You have to. I have to feel you inside me.”
Chris kisses me again, then says, “And I have to be inside you.”
The sound of the foil tearing turns out to be incredibly hot because it means that I’m about to get what I want. And watching him put on the condom and prepare to f*ck me is even hotter.
He pulls me to the edge of the dresser, and I have the brief thought that this dresser was clearly designed for the two of us because he is perfectly positioned to enter me. His mouth is on my neck, kissing me hard, and his hands run up and down the outside of my thighs. Our pace is manic, we’re unable to slow down, and I don’t want to.
“Your body is f*cking perfect,” he whispers. “You are so beautiful.”
He steps closer, and I whimper as I feel him brush against me. “Chris, please.”
“This is what you want?” he asks while he kneads his hands into my back. “I want you to be sure.”
I take his head in my hands and make him look at me. “I am.”
He gives me the hottest look I’ve ever seen in my life. “God, I want you so much.”
“Show me,” I pant as I wrap my legs around him.
We’re looking at each other as the head of his cock moves into me.
I’m so worked up and so frantic, but then he holds still. “Oh God, please don’t stop,” I beg.
He puts his hand on the side of my face. “Baby, breathe for me. I don’t want to hurt you at all.”
He’s right. I am inadvertently holding my breath, and my whole body is tight with eagerness. I nod and make the lower half of my body, at least, relax. I look at Chris and nod again. As I exhale, he eases a little farther inside me, and it’s all I can do not to lose my mind. He’s barely moving, and I can tell he’s concerned about being gentle. But I’m not. I lean back more and lift up my hips so that I take him in farther. There is some piece of me that’s aware this does hurt, but mostly all I feel is that I want more. When I put my foot on the dresser and lift up higher, Chris gasps and bites his lip as he moves deeper into me. We hold still just for a second and watch each other, both of us breathing hard and trying to control ourselves. But then I tell him, “More. I want more.”
He smiles and leans into me. “You’re all right?”
I lower and lift up again as my answer.
“Whatever you want, baby.” When he puts an arm around my lower back, pulling me close and pushing himself deep inside me, I groan so loudly that I’m pretty sure I’ve caused him hearing loss. I love the feel of his hand on my back, the way he’s supporting my body as he moves out and then enters me again.
“Jesus, you are so hot,” he breathes.
I move my hands to his hips and lift my mouth to his. It’s so hard to speak now, but I tell him, “Then f*ck me harder.” After having lived so long without the desire for touch, for sensation of any kind really, I’m finally compensating. I want to feel him as completely as possible. I kiss him once and pull on his waist to press myself against him so that he is all the way inside me.
Chris starts to slide in and out a little faster, staying deep when he goes in and then pulling out almost entirely. Each time he enters me sets off another wave of my hunger for him. I feel absolutely out of control, but for once it’s in the best way possible because it’s the most natural sense of exhilaration I’ve ever had.
Just when I am really starting to feel sore, he slows and changes the tone of our lovemaking. He embraces me tightly, and we kiss until we are drowning in each other and cannot breathe. Chris keeps me close but starts to rock his hips just a bit, grinding into me, staying deep and showing me an entirely different experience. The way his cock is moving inside me … Oh God, this could be addictive. We move rhythmically and intensely, glued to each other. Then I understand something: this is why they say that people become one.
He’s breathing hard into my ear, and by the rasp in his voice as he says my name, I know that it’s my turn to get to listen to him come. He drops one hand from my back to steady himself on the dresser as he moves faster and harder, building to his orgasm. His grip on my back gets stronger, and he pulls me as close to him as possible. I am transfixed by the way he starts to groan and slow down, thrusting involuntarily as shudders overtake him.
His mouth is on my neck, his tongue soft and beautiful as he kisses me everywhere he can reach. Then one hand cradles my face while his lips find mine, and he is sensual, and soft, and slow as we come back down.
We linger, sharing the moment, until he slowly pulls out but does not take his hands from me. “God, I’m sorry. Are you okay? Did I hurt you? I just … F*ck, I just couldn’t stop. I’ve never … been like that.” Hearing him struggle for words is awesome. “So … lost in it.”
He starts kissing me again, and I groan as he moves his tongue against mine.
Finally we come up for air. “Yes, I’m more than okay. That was … amazing.”
He shakes his head a bit. “This was not at all how I envisioned you losing your virginity.”
I tip my head to the side and smile. “Oh, I see. So you envisioned me losing my virginity?”
“Well, I mean … “
“And did you happen to be a part of this vision?”
“Um … I might have, uh, thought about …” He clears his throat. “Obviously we have a certain chemistry, and …”
I put him out of his misery and kiss him again. “I am not complaining at all. Did you think I’d want flowers scattered on the bed and candles everywhere?”
Chris traces his finger across my lips. “No, but this was maybe a little rushed. I should have been … more careful with you.”
“You gave me exactly what I wanted.”
He lowers his head to my shoulder and pulls aside the thin strap of my top with his teeth. “No, I was too out of control.”
I shiver as he teases my skin with his tongue. “You don’t like being out of control, do you?” I murmur.
He laughs lightly. “Not really.”
“Well, I liked it.”
He laughs again. “I’m glad.”
Something occurs to me. Something not sexy at all. “Oh hell. I’m not bleeding, am I?”
Chris takes half a step back, and he rolls his eyes when I hold up his chin so that he can’t look. I peek down and then touch my hand to myself. “Thank God.”
“No?” he asks and immediately steps closer to me and nuzzles my neck.
“No. Then I really would have had to tip the housekeeper big.”
“You’re going to have to tip her big anyway, I think.”
There! I knew we could f*ck and not be weird about it. We’re still us. I tangle my fingers in his hair. “Hey, Chris?”
“Mmm?”
I feel his teeth graze my shoulder again, and it takes me a second to ask him what I wanted. “What the hell are you doing back in Madison? Hawaii sounded like it was going great.”
“Oh. That. Don’t tell Sabin that I told you this. He has a court date so we’d planned on being back now.”
“What the hell? For what?’
“That idiot got himself a DUI last summer. He’d be really embarrassed if you knew, so don’t say anything.”
“I won’t. He’s not going to jail or anything, is he?” I am momentarily pulled from my post-sex bliss, and I’m worried.
“No, no. Nothing like that. I promise. He hasn’t been able to drive since then, though.”
Now that Chris says this, I realize that I’ve never seen Sabin drive. It’s always been Chris, Estelle, or Eric.
His hands are drifting over me and even this light contact between us is already arousing me again more than I can believe.
A small sound escapes my lips. I can’t help it. The feel of his touch melts me.
“And what are you doing here?” he asks.
“Just … I had enough time at home.”
He frowns. “You all right?”
“Yes. It was mostly really good. But some shit went down with James and … I’ll tell you about it later. Everything is going to be fine, though.”
He relaxes. “Good.” Chris’s hand on the back of my thigh is going to make me explode. He’s quiet for a moment as he nuzzles into me. “I still think that I have to make this up to you. We need to go slower. A lot slower.”
He lifts me up into his arms and moves us to the bed, setting me down gently. I stare in near awe while he pulls off his shirt. He is so f*cking beautiful. His ripped chest is tan and even more mesmerizing than the last time I’d seen him without a shirt. “You ready?” His flirtatious smile kills me.
Unable to answer him, I nod.
I put my hands around his neck and watch while he moves on top of me. “I have a lot of other things to do you, but first I need to be inside you the way I should have been the first time.” He takes his cock in his hand and rubs it against me. I am still soaked from coming, and he covers himself in my wetness. We both groan softly while he does this, and when he touches himself to my *, I gasp.
I can’t reach that box of condoms fast enough.
When we’re safe, he lifts his chest over mine, holding himself up on his forearms. Chris looks at me as reaches between us and starts to gradually move the tip of his cock into me. I immediately go from highly aroused to completely crazed and put my hands on his lower back to pull him in harder.
“Uh-uh, baby.” Chris shakes his head and raises my hands next to my head. He entwines our fingers. “We’re going to go slow, like it or not.”
I squirm under him, lifting up my chest in frustration, and he smiles but spreads his legs enough to lock me into place. He waits me out. Theoretically, I love the idea of going slow, but I’m still starved for intensity. If I could move, I’d be f*cking the daylights out of him already. What I don’t know yet is that he’s going to give me the intensity I want and go slow.
He slides in just a bit more. And then he pulls out. And then he pushes in even more and holds himself there. Chris slips a hand under my lower back and keeps it against me as he eases his cock all the way inside me. He’s making me moan again, and I’m getting louder by the second. Just as I’m about to grab his waist and pull him against me, he holds himself up on his elbow as he begins to f*ck me slowly.
I start to get lost in him, and soon I’m drifting into the rhythm, instinctually tilting my hips to meet his. I feel him caress my breast and kiss my cheek. He makes love to me without hurrying, without rushing anything. The hand underneath me lifts my body up to meet his, and I begin to lose all sense of time. All I can do is drown in the experience, helpless in a wonderful way.
Then he’s talking to me again. I’d never thought I’d be so into that, but hearing his voice seems to up the intensity of what he’s is doing. “You’re incredible. God, you have my cock so hard.”
I groan and begin moving my hips faster, and Chris pushes up onto both hands now. He stays deep inside me and rubs his body against me. I instinctually squeeze my muscles to tighten around him, making him catch his breath. He lifts up a little higher, just enough so that his cock presses up, hitting a spot that causes me to tremble. So he starts f*cking me a little bit harder … a little bit faster. The slight edge of pain doesn’t bother me at all because he has tapped into my built-up need for pleasure, and that overtakes everything. Now he’s getting louder now, too, and listening to him makes me absolutely crazy. I am writhing under him, my sounds getting more and more desperate while he brings me closer and closer to coming.
And as he talks to me, I start to come. “You feel so f*cking good. Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this? The way you would feel, the way you would make me feel … What it would do to me to be inside you. How you would move against me.”
I close my eyes and drift.
“Yes, there you go.” The seductive edge in his voice rocks me. “I can feel how tight your p-ssy is now. How close you are. Come on, Blythe, let me hear you… .”
I stay in that heightened state for a moment before my whole body starts to throb under him, and then I’m making all kinds of noise and saying his name over and over.
This is a euphoria that I’ve never imagined. That I never knew was possible.
When I’ve regained some level of coherence, Chris kisses me again. I can’t get enough of his mouth against mine, and I put my hands on the side of his face, holding him while I start to choose our pace with my hips. I feel his muscles clench and he drops down against me and goes harder. He’s gotten me so wet, and he moves easily in and out.
I tell him not to stop.
I tell him how he’s made me feel and how completely I want him.
I tell him to come for me.
And feeling him tense up just before he does is possibly the best feeling in the world. I hold Chris tightly as I move my hips back and forth to try and give him the same level of ecstasy that he gave me. I raise my legs up around him and make him go faster, bringing him to orgasm. Chris makes it so easy for me to respond, to move with him and for him. I love how it feels as he pounds against me while he comes. There is nothing better. And I know that he must be coming hard because he thrusts into me over and over, until he is almost spent. And just before he’s done, he is kissing me again, and I get to feel his breath in mine while he finishes.
Overwhelmed. I am entirely overwhelmed by him and by being with him.
Eventually he moves from on top of me and lies back on the bed, pulling me to nestle into the crook of his arm. He kisses the top of my head while he drifts his fingers across my back. Neither of us can talk. I cannot believe how good he has made me feel. I just can’t. I mean, the first night that I have sex and … that? He’s clearly some kind of sex god.
I mold my body to his, feeling intoxicated by the amount of pleasure the last hours have provided.
“You’re still okay, right?” he asks me.
“Of course.”
“You sore?”
I shrug.
“Yes?”
“A little,” I admit. “But I like it.”
He laughs. “You do? Why is that?”
I move on top and sit up while I straddle him. I grin. “Because it means fantastic things just happened.”
“I’m glad you think they were fantastic.” He looks just as happy as I do. He takes a deep breath. “Look, I know this is a stupid, corny thing to say, but … Blythe, it means a lot to me that I’m the first guy you’ve been with.”
Chris draws his hands over my breasts, touching me so tenderly and exquisitely that I can’t believe how fortunate I am to have my first time be with someone whom I trust so completely with my body. With all that I am. “It means a lot to me that you’re the first guy I’ve been with.”
His hands go down the length of my torso, over the curve of my hips and across the top of my thigh. “Your body …” he starts. “Your body is just rockin’.”
Now he’s embarrassing me. I wasn’t the slightest bit uncomfortable having him do significantly more intimate things than pay me a compliment, but he’s being ridiculous. “Stop it.”
“Seriously. I mean, I’d love your body no matter what, but I have to admit that running has made you even more …” His gaze follows the path of his hands as they travel over me, and I have to look away. “Look at you. These legs, and this waist.” His hands sneak under me. “And this gorgeous ass.”
“Chris …”
“It’s true.” He sits up, puts a hand on the back of my neck and strokes my cheek with his thumb, and then rolls a lock of my hair over his finger. “And these beautiful curls … Face it. You’re gorgeous.”
“You’re a dope.” I squeeze his arm and touch his perfect chest. “And look who’s talking. You’re a block of muscle.” Then he lets me move my fingers over his face while I take in how extraordinary he is. “These stunning green eyes, and this disgustingly perfect masculine jawline.”
“Now you’re being a dope.”
I lean in and rub my nose against his. “And this adorable nose.”
“Now you’ve lost it.” I can tell he doesn’t like his crooked nose, but he kisses me anyway. “Hey, Blythe?”
“Yeah?”
“We’re good, you and me? This doesn’t feel, you know, weird to you, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t. We’re completely good. I know what this is, and what this isn’t, just like you do.”
He nods, and we’re quiet for a minute. “Since we’re going to be in this hotel for a few more days, maybe we could … ”
“Yes. I think we definitely could.” Thank God. I’m not done with him by a landslide. I still have a lot of catching up to do.
“What are we going to tell them?” he asks with a smile.
“Your family?’
“Yup.”
“I have no idea. That we’re going to f*ck each other’s brains out for a few days and that they can just deal with it?”
“That may be more descriptive than they’ll need.”
“Or we can tell them nothing and hope they don’t walk in on us.”
“I like the sound of that.” He tickles me under the arms and tosses me onto the bed. “But first, we need food. I was on my way to dinner when … You know.”
“When I assaulted you in the hallway?”
“Yes, exactly.” He grabs my hand and pulls me out of bed. Chris throws on his jeans and grabs the room service menu before he starts to lead me to the couch that overlooks the city.
“Hold on, I’m grabbing a robe.”
“No! No clothes!”
I laugh but go to the bathroom and retrieve the soft white robe that is hanging there for guests. I shut the bifold doors by the tub. I may have just done a lot of things with Chris that I’ve never done with anyone else, but I don’t plan on having him watch me pee be the next one.
By the time I’m out of the bathroom, Chris is sitting on the edge of the oversize chair and ordering food for us. I sit down behind him, clasp my hands together over his stomach, and lean my head against his back. I listen to the rumble of his deep voice as he orders. He looks back, and I nod that the order is fine. I’m starving now. “Yeah, charge it to room 2021,” he says and hangs up. “Dinner’s on me.”
“Chris, you don’t have to do that.”
I bring my right hand to his back as he hangs up, and I pull away to admire again how toned and strong he is. And while he is these things, he is also vulnerable like we all are, proven by the two significant scars on his back. A broken line that starts from just below his left shoulder and ends midway down the right side of his back, a space of probably four inches or so between them.
I don’t really know if this is really one scar or two. I remember how he threw a shirt on by the lake, and suspect now that he was covering his scars the way I often cover my own. I realize that even though Chris and I have been plenty naked with each other, this is the first time I’ve seen or touched his scars, almost as if my hands knew where not to go while we were intimate. The texture is familiar to me because his scars feel like mine. He stiffens slightly as I touch his skin, and I understand this all too well. I tighten my hold around his waist, letting him know this is not a big deal.
He takes a deep breath. “Sorry. I totally forgot. That probably sounds crazy.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for. You know that.” I pat my left hand against his stomach, reminding him that I really do understand.
I’m still touching his scars. For some reason this is not a question that I want to ask, but I do anyway. “How did you get these?”
He takes my left hand in his and looks out at the view. The buildings are lit up and showing us a deep blue night sky. “Ugh, a skiing accident when I was a kid. The tips of skis are sharper than you think.”
I cringe. “Ow.”
“Ow, indeed.” As he pulls me onto his lap, he nods to the window. “Stellar view, huh?”
I look at him. “It certainly is.”
He smiles. “And this chair is very comfortable.” Chris moves his hand inside my robe, just under my breast.
“It is.”
“And that couch just screams possibilities, doesn’t it.” Now he has my nipple between his fingers.
The surge of desire that moves through me leaves me nearly incapacitated.
“After dinner, though. We need fuel.” Chris parts my robe more and leans in to sweep his tongue over my breast. “Sound good to you?”
I can only nod weakly in response. It may be the middle of the night, but I am wide awake.