First with his fingers, then with his kiss, and then with his body moving with disciplined focus into mine, he does get those three little words out of me. He makes me say them, swear them, makes me beg him to believe them. When he guides me over him, I say them again through a smile, staring down at the unmasked adoration on his face. And I scream them into the pillow when he fucks me hard from behind. I promise him I truly do when he rolls me onto my back again and pushes slowly into me, his arms caged protectively around my head.
Sweaty and tangled in the sheets, we tumble in a thump from the bed to the floor, where he braces over me, reaching between us to find his way back deep into me and slowing down to the smallest movements, his lips resting over mine, sharing my breath. My hands are woven in his hair; it’s damp from exertion, and he kisses me so deep, groaning quietly at how good it feels. Alec’s palm slides down my side, fingertips teasing along my hip, cupping my thigh, and bringing my leg higher around his waist.
“Do you love me when I’m deep like this?” he asks me.
I whisper into his mouth that I do, more than anything. Tight and urgent, I’m so close already, impossibly, with the promise of an unbelievable weight rolling down my spine, ready to obliterate.
“I think I’m starting to believe you.” Sweat beads his top lip as he stares down between our bodies. I’m desperate for the salt of his skin, the wet, messy slide of his kiss when he’s on the verge of falling to pieces.
Out in the apartment, we hear the front door open and close, and the sound of Eden dropping her purse and keys on the hall table. That means it’s after two in the morning; we’ve been kissing, playing, making love for hours. Alec stares down at me, cupping a hand over my mouth, and only now that I can’t make a sound does he give me what I want: the fast snaps of his hips until my pleasure sears through me one last time, sending my fingernails sinking into his back. He arches away, face tilted up as he bites a white streak into his lower lip, coming with a quiet groan.
We stay like this, catching our breath as Alec stares down at me.
“You okay?” he asks, shifting so he can reach up, move some sweat-slicked hair out of my eyes.
I nod, cupping his neck.
“Let’s get you up.” He kicks away the sheets wrapped around his legs, and I groan, already sore. Alec wordlessly helps me up onto the mattress, where I collapse, and he follows, turning me and tucking me into him with my back all along his front. With his hand on my breast and his breath on the back of my neck, we crash together into sleep.
* * *
Morning sneaks in through the small cracks in my curtains. I’m pressed into the solid comfort of Alec’s chest, and pull away, gazing up at his sleeping face. Squinting, I roll over and reach for the phone on my nightstand. It’s just after six.
My article will be up.
When I bolt upright, Alec stirs, sending a drowsy hand up my spine. “What is it?”
“The article went live at nine Eastern. Seven minutes ago.”
He pushes up onto an elbow, leaning his sleepy face on my arm. We watch it load, and my heart scales my windpipe. There are already hundreds of comments. Silently, we read my story together. And then again.
When we’re done, Alec whispers a quiet, “I mean… this is perfect.”
He takes my phone and lies back down to read the story a third time.
I’m afraid to look outside this room to see the reaction from the rest of the world. When it comes to my relationship with Alec, it doesn’t matter to me what anyone else says about this. We have a bond that exploded out of nowhere and deepens every time he touches me. I love him in the frantic grip of pleasure and in the soft, yawning light of morning.
But when Alec hands me my phone back and grabs his own, we stare at each other for a quiet, surreal moment. It might not matter to our hearts what people think, but it does matter.
“Do you think it’s safe to open Twitter?” I ask.
He grins, generously offering two irresistible dimples. “Is it ever?”
It’s true that he and I exist far beyond the reach of the internet, but my career hinges on this article being well received, and his hinges on people believing what Sunny has to say. I kiss him once, eyes open and clear, before looking. After only a couple minutes of scrolling, I can’t help the boasting laugh that escapes. Alec is trending again, but this time he’s receiving an outpouring of love.
I swipe up, watching the fast scroll of hundreds and hundreds of tweets. “This is wild. Do you see all of this adoration?” I pause to read a few and frown. “You have a lot of marriage proposals.” Looking at him, I point to my screen. “There is a person here who has offered to carry your baby if you are so inclined.”