The Love of My Afterlife(67)
Cooper laughs out loud and shakes his head. “Dark, Delphie. Very dark.”
“Can I have another cup of tea?” I say, handing my mug to him. “This time with three sugars?”
* * *
We spend the next hour stretched out at opposite ends of the “small double,” talking about everything and nothing.
Cooper tells me about the time he did a reading at Waterstones and just one person turned up—a woman who had wandered in for a place to rest her bunioned feet. I tell him about the drawing class and the hilarious splits pose Kat did, and about how when I was ten I badly wanted to have a nickname, so I told all the teachers to start referring to me as Lil D and didn’t understand why they absolutely refused to allow it.
I tell him how I miss my mum. He tells me about how his heart feels cracked. Like he could plaster over it with friends and family and books and life and joy, but that he knew it would never really be mended as long as Em wasn’t in the world.
When he asks me about Gen and Ryan, I swiftly change the subject. I don’t want them in my head anymore. Instead I tell him about my top-five TV shows and how the light outside my window at 7:00 p.m. during the final days of August is so perfectly lilac that it takes my breath away every single year. I ask him what the best thing that ever happened to him was, and he tells me it was when he taught Em to ride a two-wheeler and how they’d spent the whole summer of their tenth year wheeling around Hyde Park together with their grandparents, stopping to swim in the Serpentine, eating ice cream, and reading paperbacks—Goosebumps for him, Judy Blumes for her.
In between the talking, we grin at each other, giggling because the sun is starting to come up and we shouldn’t be awake. But we really don’t want to sleep either.
“Come here,” Cooper commands.
I do as he says, crawling across the bed and yelping as he pulls me onto his lap, the sheet falling away from me, exposing my breasts in the brilliant golden light of the dawn.
Cooper’s eyes feast on me. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
“Shuddup.”
“No.”
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t use your lines on me.”
He moves then, his hardness straining beneath me. Feeling bold, I reach my hand beneath his sheet and touch him, the hot smoothness making me bite my lip. I move my hand and he pulses thickly beneath my palm in response.
Cooper leans his head back against the endboard. “Christ.” His voice is all raspy and so deep that I swear I can feel the vibration of it in my belly.
He grabs a condom from his wallet and rolls it on. I straddle him and slip down onto his dick, gasping as he fills me.
I tentatively start to rock, slowly at first and then quicker as I get into a rhythm. Cooper watches me, his eyes as dark as coal. I watch him watching me, and the intensity of it, the sun bright on both of our faces, our bodies, makes my heart pound, adrenaline enveloping me.
His fingers dance lightly across my rib cage. Then he presses his palm against my breast, softly flicking his middle finger over my nipple. He raises his head and takes me ever so lightly between his teeth.
“Oh my god.” The most gorgeous ripple of sensation starts to spark in my gut.
Cooper responds to my exclamation by flipping me over and pinning my arms above my head, pushing into me so deeply that it makes me gasp. We find a rhythm and move against each other as Cooper growls, “Fuck,” over and over with each new drive into me.
“Oh my god,” I cry out again as the spark in my belly ignites across my whole body, flames of pleasure licking at every limb. I am only flesh and wetness and pure electric energy.
Cooper groans, his forehead pressed against mine, eyes looking right into me. Seeing me.
We catch our breath. Cooper licks his plump bottom lip. I stare at him and conclude it’s the sexiest bottom lip I’ve ever encountered. How had I never noticed that before?
Cooper gazes at me like I’m the first woman he’s ever had. There’s a slightly puzzled flicker behind his eyes. Of course I know I’m one of many. But I can’t help but like the way it feels when he looks at me like that.
Shit.
Things have gone wildly off course.
33
It turns out that after all these years, I might actually have been a latent slut, just waiting for the opportunity to bloom. Because once Cooper’s friend has dropped off his keys and we’re driving back to London, I can think of nothing else except for having sex again. Specifically with Cooper. At the very least it’s the only thing that feels like it will take my mind off (a) impending death in two days and (b) the pervading sense of regret that I didn’t try this out sooner.
Cooper stops the car behind a hedge on a silent country lane, pushes the car seat back, and uses his tongue to make me come again. But I need more, and as we near our building, I ask him if we can try the doggy-style position, to which he says that we certainly can, but we should probably shower first. To which I ask if we can shower together. To which he answers that we can do whatever I want. I feel bold and unconcerned about any consequences. Having a death sentence will do that to you.
We turn onto Westbourne Hyde Road and our giggles stop short when we notice there’s an ambulance parked outside the building. Two paramedics wheel someone out of the front door. I see immediately that it’s Mr. Yoon, an oxygen mask on his face. Was there a fire? Did he leave his cigarette lit? I open the car door before the car has fully stopped moving, and run over to Mr. Yoon, who is being loaded quickly into the back of the ambulance.