The rush of guilt escapes my body, freeing me.
As Rose and Connor leave, my sister’s voice fades. “Please tell me you unthawed the chicken fingers before we left.” They feed their children what their children prefer. Celebrity Crush still speculates that Rose and Connor serve fancy five-course meals every night.
Not true.
“Who do you think you married?” he asks.
“A narcissist, not a chef.”
I imagine his blinding grin before the door shuts.
The room blankets with silence. I crane my neck over the couch, just to sweep his sharpened features. Every day I wonder when Loren Hale the boy turned into Loren Hale the man, and I wonder how I could’ve resisted him for so long. It’s not just about his jawline and cheekbones. It’s how he sees me. In one look. In one stare.
Worthy.
Beautiful.
You’re far from trash, Lily Hale.
His perception of me defeats all the ugly ones that exist. It reinforces what I believe about myself.
Worthy.
Beautiful.
You’re far from trash, Lily Hale.
I drink in his love. Desire pools between my legs. His hands on your hips, down your thighs. Yes. Yes. I practically pulse when my thoughts descend to his dick.
All of it.
In me.
Now.
I freeze, really pulsating, and I concentrate on the present. I am not up against Loren Hale, as much as I’d love to be. He’s still standing on the other side of the couch.
He stares at me so knowingly that my cheeks immediately flush. I remember what Rose said about me eye-fucking him. Have I been?
I’m so obvious.
Tension builds in the overwhelming silence. My neck aches, so I focus on the blank television and pat my knees. “So…” Lo’s cock.
I press my thighs together, lost for a second. I shake out my arms to keep from drifting in a fantasy. Why do I feel so awkward? I’ve known him all my life. I wake up next to my best friend. I sleep next to my best friend.
The proof lasts for centuries.
I don’t check him out. I just drum my fingers on my knees. “Date night?” That’s why this is weird. When do we ever call them date nights? “What are we going to do?”
“Watch the Rogue Cut.” He takes a seat beside me.
Four words catapult my spirits. The Rogue Cut is a special edition of X-Men: Days of Future Past. We always put off finishing the bonus scenes in favor of shows and new movies, plus cartoons for Moffy.
I angle towards Lo. “OhmyGod, what if there’s a secret Magneto scene?” I scrunch my nose. “Oh no. Do you think they made Rogue and Magneto hook up like in the comics?” I place a hand over my heart. “My shipper heart can’t handle it, Lo. That is literally my least favorite pairing. Ever.”
“That’s Earth-295,” he reminds me. “It’d be a stretch to include it here.” I open my mouth to counter, but he adds, “But if it does happen, I’ll be fast-forwarding that shit.”
I let out a big sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
“Anytime, love. Fast-forwarded shit is my favorite kind of shit.” His dry smile dimples his cheeks.
My body throbs. Focus. On. The. Movie. I chant.
I relax against the couch while he turns it on. Fifteen minutes through the extended edition, his legs are kicked up on the coffee table, our sides touch, and his arm is curved around my shoulders.
I sit stiffly, knowing if I cuddle against Lo, my hands will wander to his jeans. I’ll unzip him and then rush for an orgasm. Slow, I often remind myself.
Twenty minutes pass.
I squirm. Lily!
Sex seems better than superheroes. Which is a thought that’s played out plenty of times before. But Lo dubbed this date night, and what if he’s hoping I’ll wait patiently until the movie ends?
I’m not ruining date night.
Not with sex.
I risk a peek at Lo. The movie hypnotizes him more than me. His brows scrunch as Magneto appears on screen, and he rewinds the scene by ten seconds just to listen again. This is why it takes us forever when we watch director’s commentary.
I eye his crotch. What if I sit on him? Backwards…
Anal.
My doctor advised against anal while I’m this pregnant. I still think about it though.
Anal. Why does a word that sounds so ugly have to feel so good? My thoughts are so weird, and yet, I’m okay with this. Embrace your weirdness. I nod confidently at the idea.
Lo pauses the movie. “Are you doing okay?” His amber eyes flit from my head to waist to hands, evaluating my state of being.
“Great. Why?”
“You nodded to yourself.” He cups my cheek, and I do this thing—I nestle towards his palm. More. More. Closer.
He can’t hear my chant, but he must see it in my eyes. Date night.
Who knew “date night” would be a chant against sex? It is though. For me, it is. I clasp his wrist like I’m going to peel his hand away. I end up freezing, his large palm so warm against my cheek.
You nodded to yourself, I remember him saying.
“So?” How is nodding bad? I’m a nodder. A confident, self-proclaimed nodder. I frown. Is a nodder even a thing? I need Connor Cobalt to tell me if it’s a real word—but not right now. I do not need Connor Cobalt in regards to sex.
Lo flips the remote in his free hand. “You only do that when you’re boosting yourself up over something.”
I clear my throat. “I’m reminding myself that anal may sound like an ugly word and I can still like it and that’s okay.” I nod again. Fuck it, I’m a nodder—whether that’s a word or not.
Lo laughs into a smile.
I realize I’m still imprisoning his palm against my face. “This is yours…” I give Lo his hand back.
His smile fades to the point where he looks wounded.
“Unless…can I have it?”
He leans forward like he plans to kiss me, but then he teases, inching a breath backwards. I gasp, needy.
“Lily Hale,” he says my name in a sexy whisper. So close. Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me. “You can have more than just my hand.”
Yes.
I try to kiss him, but he teases again, his lips bypassing mine.
Against my ear, he murmurs, “Slowly.”
I ache and throb. He rotates more towards me, his knee on the cushion. His hand takes a perilous journey through the sleeve of my muscle shirt.
He skims the skin beside my breast. Closer. Closer.
“Lo,” I breathe, even more needy. I try to kiss him again.
He turns his head, and my lips touch his jaw.
“You’re the biggest tease,” I complain.
Lo smiles like he could tease me a thousand more years. “What about now, love?” His thumb brushes my nipple, his full hand cupping my breast. He flicks the sensitive bud, and I jolt, my lips parting, nerves lighting up.
I whip my head to the side, my legs shaking. Then I notice the movie paused on the screen. Date night.
“Lo…” I wince at myself.
“Lily?” Alarm spikes his voice. He rests his palm on my pregnant belly, scared for the baby, then his other hand touches my cheek. Scared for me.
“ImfineImfine,” I say so quickly. “But date night?” I don’t want to be the reason we cut the movie short.
His shoulders lower, relaxing. “Can I tell you a secret?” His voice deepens to a whisper again. Then he gently guides my back to the couch, so I lie lengthwise.
As he remains above me, I fixate on Lo, his hand back beneath my muscle shirt. “Does it involve cocks?”
He squeezes my small breast. “One cock.”
I’m wet. “Your cock?”
He grabs my hand. “This cock.” He unbuttons and unzips his jeans before stuffing my hand down his pants and boxer-briefs.
He’s so hard.
My eyes grow big. I didn’t think he’d be hard right now. I thought he was in movie-mode.
Lo says, “I want this night with you. Because I want to fuck you, not just because you want to fuck me or because of the six-week no-sex period after Luna arrives.”
My pulse quickens. I open my mouth to speak, but words escape me. In my silence, he removes my hand from his pants, and then he wedges a pillow beneath my lower back, my legs already split apart for him.
Come closer. Kiss me. Fill me.