I don’t know where the words come from. They fall out of my mouth and hang between us, and damn if I never want to put them back in.
Marriage is something I stopped thinking about a long time ago, around the first time I had a husband ask me to screw his wife. Monogamy just didn’t seem to be that sacred a concept, the thought of freedom more tantalizing. But then I met her—I fell for her. An hour ago, I was afraid to bring up dating, afraid at the risk I was bringing to my company and our friendship. That was just an hour ago. And now, a proposal? It’s too quick, ridiculously too quick. I’m going to scare her off, going to ruin everything. Her loving me isn’t the same as a commitment that will bind us—
“Trey.” She touches my face, her fingers soft, and it’s over. You don’t respond to a marriage proposal with a name. I close my eyes and can feel the hopelessness when it hits, the down that comes after a high. Her lips brush against mine, her nails soft against my cheeks, the tickle of her hair as it falls against my ear.
“Ignore that,” I mumble. “It was stupid.” I need to recover. I need to open my eyes, and make a dirty remark, and give her that smirk—the one that gets me out of trouble and covers mistakes. I need to do all of it, but can’t muster up a smile, can’t come back to life after drowning.
“Don’t say that.”
“It was.”
“I want to marry you.”
I take a risk and look up at her, the fire’s light playing across her features, and there is a but coming, I can feel it pushing off her tongue. “But,” she says, and then her eyes drop, her fingers running over my bottom lip. I open my mouth and gently bite down on her thumb. Her eyes flick back to mine. “But, I’m worried about the orgy stuff.”
It is so unexpected, that I can’t help but smile. She scowls in response, and I know suddenly that we will be fine, that we are Kate and Trey, and even if we don’t marry, there is nothing that can come between us. “It’s not funny,” she says, pushing on my chest.
“The orgy stuff?” I repeat, and I try to contain my smile, to take seriously whatever is about to come out of her delicious mouth.
“Yes, Trey. The orgy stuff.” She huffs out a breath, sitting upright.
I can’t stop the laugh that comes at her petulant expression. “I don’t do orgies, Kate.” I quickly amend the words. “I haven’t done orgies. I was only the third for couples. That’s it.”
“Okay, sorry. The threesome stuff.” She rolls her eyes. “Is that better?”
“Yes.” I slide my hands up her bare thighs, and I like this position, having her astride me, her pussy bare on my stomach, wet from my come, her hair falling over her breasts, her face flushed from our sex and her current indignation over my pain-in-the-ass past. “What worries you about it?”
“I’m just worried that you’ll want me to do that. And it’s not that I’m a prude or anything—”
I pop my hips enough that she bounces up, and she stops talking, caught off balance, her hand reaching out to stabilize herself as she comes back down to my stomach, my hand taking advantage of the moment to slip underneath her. I slide two fingers inside, curving them up and toward me, and her objection dies as she melts forward. “Trey,” she protests, and it is a weak slur of my name, my fingers gently sweeping over her g-spot, and she is so warm, so tight, so wet inside. I wonder how much of it is my come, and how much is her, and how, if I press right there … she curses and digs her fingers into my chest.
“Jesus, Trey. Don’t stop.”
“Look at me, Kate.”
My confidence rises when she tries to lift her eyes to mine. They are heavy, her eyes hooded and glazed, and thank God I am only now discovering this—how responsive she is to just the crook of my finger. If I’d known this early on, I’d have solved every business discussion this way. I’d have insisted that she only wear skirts to work. I would have installed a wall of mirrors in my office and have her face them, have her watch her face as I fingered her, have her see exactly how motherfucking sexy she looks like this. I sweep my thumb over her clit and use my fingers in short thrusts, making sure to brush over that spot, her mouth falling open, short pants leaving it, her hips beginning to rock over me.
“I will never want to share you with anyone.” I promise her, my eyes on her face, a jolt of pleasure coming through me as she squeezes her eyes shut, a low moan leaving her. I slow my motions. “Tell me you understand.”