to love someone.
How could I tell him what that meant
to me? I wasn’t good at revealing myself
with words, but I could show him.
And I would.
“Quinn,” I whispered frantically. “I
want you inside me. Fuck the condom.”
“Are you sure?” His eyes searched
mine in the dark.
“Yes.” My entire body ached for him
to fill it. “I want you so badly right now,
I can’t describe it—I want you so badly
it hurts.”
“I want you too.” He took over,
taking his cock in his hand and guiding it
between my legs.
I was so wet he slid in easily, but he
went slow, his eyes closing. When he
was buried inside me, he opened them,
and we held still for a moment, just
looking at each other.
My heart was thundering in my chest,
and I felt his doing the same. His hand
slid over my hip, pulling me tighter to
his body, and I hitched my leg up even
higher, making the angle even better.
“This feels so good,” he whispered.
“I don’t even want to move, it will be
over too quickly. But I have to…” He
began to move his lower body in that
slow, sinuous motion I loved, the one
that had him rubbing all the right places,
inside and out. “You make me so hard.”
“Don’t worry, I’m with you,” I said,
matching his rhythm with my hips. “I
promise.”
It didn’t take long for the intensity to
build, especially knowing we were
doing it without a condom—breaking a
rule!—
on purpose
. Before long, Quinn
had me on my back, his cock driving
hard and deep, my nails digging into his
ass, our bodies damp with water and
sweat. Higher and higher we climbed,
desperate for release, unable to stop, but
unwilling to leave the other behind.
“Now,” he said hotly, his breath in
my ear. “Come for me. Let me feel you
come on my cock before I—”
I lost the rest of what he was saying,
my senses abandoned, my universe
reduced to the shared pulse between us.
I don’t know where my orgasm stopped
or his began; they ran together, fed off
each other, kept us clutching at one
another, trying against all odds to get
deeper, get closer, get
more
.
When his body collapsed on top of
mine, I felt grateful for the weight of it,
the way it grounded me, stopped me
from floating into the sky. I held him to
me with my arms and legs, pressed my
lips to his neck, breathed him in deep.
“Are you OK?” He lifted his chest
off me and looked down. “Sorry, I didn’t
mean to crush you.”
“You’re not. Come back.” I pulled
on his shoulders. “I wasn’t suffocating, I
was sniffing you.”
He laughed and lowered himself a
little, propping himself on his elbows
above my shoulders. “Is this OK?”
“Yes.” I ran my hands up his sides,
over his chest, and into his hair. “Just
don’t leave yet.”
“OK.”
I looked up at him and realized it
wasn’t that I didn’t want him to leave
yet; I didn’t want him to leave
at all
.
I wanted him next to me all night. I
wanted to fall asleep in his arms and
wake up with him beside me. I wanted to
talk more about his mom and my mom
and our childhoods. I wanted to whisper
about the future and what it might hold. I
wanted to laugh about my rules and how
he’d somehow convinced me to break
every one of them without even
appearing to try. I wanted to let him all
the way in.
I wanted to love him.
“Quinn,” I whispered, brushing the
hair back from his face. “I don’t want
you to leave me tonight.”
He hesitated. “Does that mean you
want me to stay?”
“Yes.”
“The night?”
“Yes.”
Please don’t tease me right
now. Don’t ask me what it means. Don’t
remind me of the rules. Just trust me.
Let me give you more, a little at a time.
“OK,” he said, kissing me softly.
“I’ll stay.”
I DRIFTED off to sleep spooned in
Quinn’s embrace.
“You’re sure you’re OK?” he asked
for the tenth time. “I’m not crowding
you?”
“For fuck’s sake, Quinn.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but I know how you
get.”
“What I’m getting right now is
irritated. I’m tired, go to sleep.”
“OK, OK.”
I’d like to say we spooned all night,
but I probably only lasted about twenty
minutes before I got too hot, rolled onto
my stomach, and hitched up my knee
between us.
But I tried—that counts, right?
And even though we weren’t
wrapped up in each other all night, I did
like knowing he was there in my bed.
The couple times I woke up and
remembered the night before, I smiled
into my pillow, happier than I’d been in
a long time.
In the morning, I woke up first and
lay on my side, facing him. He was
beautiful even in his sleep, his features
completely relaxed. Lying on his back,
he had one arm thrown over his head,
and I had the weirdest urge to sniff his
armpit. (Don’t judge. As armpits go, it’s
pretty much perfect.)
I refrained from pit sniffing, but I
couldn’t resist touching his chest, which
was visible above the top of the sheet.
Scooting a little closer, I traced a line
down the center of his sternum with my
fingertips, then covered one pectoral
muscle with my palm.
His eyes opened, and he smiled.
“Hey.”
I smiled too. “Hey.”
“How’d you sleep?”
“Great. You?”
“Same. What time is it?”
“I have no idea. I never brought my
phone in here.”
“Me either. I’m not even sure where
my clothes are. That seems to happen a
lot around you.”
I giggled. “I think they’re in a variety
of places between our two flats.”
“It was a good night.”
“It was.” I kept looking at him,
waiting for the remorse to kick in, the
urge for him to leave, the compulsion to
be by myself…but I felt none of that. Not
only was I happy he was there, but I
didn’t want him to go.
“We broke a rule,” he said, a sly grin
on his face. “Are you mad at us?”
I propped my head in my hand.
“Actually, no. Can you believe it?”
“No.” His eyes went wide, twinkling
with mischief. “Does this mean…”
I reached out and put two fingers
over his lips. “No. It means I had fun and
I’m glad you stayed the night.”
He kissed my fingers and grabbed
my wrist. “Party pooper. Get over here.”
Pulling me close, he gathered me into his
chest, arms wrapped around my head,
chin resting on top of it. “Give me ten
seconds of excessive cuddling, and then
I’ll let you go.”
I groaned for effect, but if he could
have seen my face, he’d have known
how happy I was.
What on earth was happening?
THREE DAYS LATER, I met Claire
and Margot for our weekly GNO. It was
my turn to pick the place, and I chose
Standby, a relatively new bar in the Belt
Alley that had great cocktails and
delicious small plates.
I got there first, ordered a Vermilion
Fizz, and took a minute to text Quinn.
Hey. At Standby with girls. See you
tonight?
Definitely. Have fun and knock
when you get home.
After that there was a little
bumblebee emoji, which Quinn had
designated the “love bug.” Shaking my
head, I quickly checked his Instagram
account, where he’d posted a pic from
this morning. I’d probably looked at it a
hundred times already today, but I
couldn’t resist peeking at it again. We’d
still been lying in his bed, and he’d
snapped a selfie right as he kissed my
cheek, which I didn’t even realize
because I was laughing at something
he’d said and my eyes were closed. My
hair was a mess and the picture was kind
of blurry, but it captured
us
perfectly.
His caption was simply
This girl.
#wcw
#sweetpea
“What are you smiling about?”
Claire took off her coat and hung it on
the chair across the table from me.
“Nothing.” I tucked my phone into
my purse, embarrassed to be caught
grinning like an idiot at a screen.
“Does nothing stand about six foot
two, have piercing blue eyes, and a great
big dick?”
I shrugged, but I couldn’t keep the
blush from my cheeks. “Maybe.”
“God, what is going
on
with you?”
she demanded, sliding onto the seat. “If I
didn’t know better, I’d say you were in
love.”
I coughed in protest, even as the
room started to spin. “Please. I’m not in
love. I’m just…enjoying myself. Isn’t
that allowed?”
“Of course it’s
allowed
. It’s just very
unlike
you to enjoy yourself with one
guy for this long.”
“I know. It does feel a bit strange,” I
admitted as Margot breezed in and sat
down next to Claire.
“What does?” she asked, shrugging
out of her jacket and glancing around.
“Do they have a coat check here? Or a
rack?”
“I don’t know. Here, I’ll take it.” I
reached out and took her heavy camel
coat and set it on the bench next to me.
“Thanks. Now what’s strange?” she
asked.
“Being in love,” Claire interjected.
“Being with Quinn,” I said firmly,
giving Claire the evil eye.
The server came over with my drink
and took their orders. When he was
gone, Margot asked, “But is it good
strange? Being in a couple?”
“Yeah.” I took a sip. “Mm, that’s
good.” Everything tasted good these last
few days.
“Did you break the sleepover rule?”
Claire’s expression was smug, and I
knew the color was back in my cheeks
again.
“Uh, we did, actually. On Saturday
night.” I took another sip. “And then
again on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday.”
Their jaws dropped, and then they
looked at each other.
I burst out laughing. “You guys look
so funny.”
“I can’t believe it,” Claire said,
shaking her head. “You’ve spent four
nights in a row together?”
“Yes. I can hardly believe it either.”
We’d spent the first two in my flat and
the last two in his. Who knew where
we’d end up tonight?
“And you’re OK with it?” Margot
scrutinized my face. “You don’t feel
smothered?”
“No. It’s kind of insane.” I played
with the stem of my glass as I confessed.
“I’m actually liking the closeness. I
mean, I don’t like him right on top of me
all the time, I still like my personal
space, but…” I shrugged. “I like when
he’s there.”
“Holy shit. You’ve got a boyfriend,
Jaime.” Margot looked amused.
“What? No, I don’t.” I felt my face
getting hotter, and I focused on taking a
drink of my cold cocktail.
“You do. You so do.” Grinning, she
sat back as the server set their drinks
down. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.
You don’t need a support group.”
“I know. I just…don’t really want a
boyfriend,” I insisted. “We agreed not to
put that kind of label on things, and I
think it’s helping me be comfortable with
what we’re doing.”
“Which is what?”
“Dating. Having fun. Enjoying each
other’s company.” I paused. “Often
naked.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “Sounds like
a boyfriend to me.”
“Claire, please. A boyfriend is more
serious. Like Tripp. Tripp’s a
boyfriend.”
“For now, anyway.” Margot sighed.
“Did you talk to him yet?” I asked,
kind of hoping to get off the subject of
Quinn. The truth was, I didn’t know
exactly what we were doing or what to
call it or what would happen next week
when he moved out. I was hoping we’d
be able to keep it just like this—light
and fun, strings but no labels, meaningful
but not serious. Anything more than that,
and I started to hyperventilate.
“No. I didn’t want to ruin Valentine’s
Day. We were having dinner with Mimi
and Deuce,” she said glumly. “But I
can’t put it off much longer. I’m
miserable not knowing.”
Because that is what serious
relationships do to people
, I reminded
myself.
That’s what falling in love does
—jacks up their hopes and creates
impossible expectations. Misery is
inevitable.
But later, as Quinn moved inside me
and the stars exploded and the heavens
opened up and the earth spun so wildly
out of control I clung to him like a
terrified child, I knew I had to be
careful.
All my rules were broken.
All my walls were down.