“Tobias, you’re making it hard for me to work.” And sleep. And think.
He nods. “We’ve established that. I was just about to take off. Just wanted to let you know.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just…I don’t know what I am right now.”
“You feel ambushed. We’ve got a lot to sort through, but until then, I’m here if you need me to be. And,” he leans in, encasing me in his arms, his hands caressing the wings on my back, “we have a lot to look forward to.” He brushes my lips with his. “I’ll see you at home.”
Home.
“Okay. Thanks again for helping today.”
His reply is a brief kiss to my lips. Releasing me, he shoves his hand in his jeans and pulls a wad of cash from his pocket, folding my hand around it. “For Marissa.”
That afternoon, I return home to see a note from Tobias that he went for a run. After a scalding shower, I stand in front of my mirror and wipe the moisture away, jumping when Tobias appears behind me, his eyes rolling down my naked form before returning to mine. His hair completely damp and disheveled, his shirt soaked, he leans in and presses a kiss to my shoulder before snaking an arm around my waist and pulling my back to him. Resting his chin on my shoulder, he runs the pads of his fingers along my stomach. “Small talk is stupid, don’t you think? Especially when you need to have big conversations.”
He pushes the bulk of my soaked hair to the opposite shoulder before pressing his lips to my exposed neck, laving up droplets of water with his tongue. The sight of the act draws me back, so familiar, so intimate, it has me weakening in the knees.
I re-live the first time he did this, kissed me this way. It was the first night we were intimate. I bite my lip, remembering the sight of his cock as he pushed into me, the stretch, the fit, the intensity of that moment, and the recognition in his eyes.
But it wasn’t just the feel. It was the emotion attached to it, emotions neither of us wanted to acknowledge.
“But I know why we aren’t talking, Cecelia. I can wait,” he murmurs as our eyes catch in the reflection. “Because I’m not going to walk around here chatting about the fucking weather, or the café—a business you can run with your eyes closed, or about what you’re planting in your garden because I really don’t give a fuck as long as it makes you happy. I can wait for a lot,” he pulls his mouth from me, “but I’m not going to let you deny that I’m here much longer.” Erection pressing into my back, he leans in again, biting the nape of my neck before soothing it with his lips and tongue. Thoroughly soaked and needy, I fight to keep from rubbing my thighs together. “I’ll talk to you about whatever you want, as long as we’re having a conversation. But I do hear everything you’re not saying, too. I’ll always hear you.” He studies me, watching my expression and reaction to him, my body blooming fully under his touch before his eyes close, and a curse leaves him. His expression pained like he’s just seen something he can’t handle before he releases me and shuts the door behind him.
My heart lurches after him, but my mind refuses to allow me to move. For the first time since he arrived, a thought occurs to me…
What if I’m incapable of forgiving him?
Age Twenty
Heavy bass thumps from the club to my right as I walk through a cloud of cigarette smoke. I cruise by while taking note of a guy tongue fucking a brunette he has plastered to the side of the building, his hand disappearing beneath her skirt. Envy eats at me as she tosses her head back before biting down on the shoulder of her captor. When she opens her eyes, her lips part when she zeroes in on me. The sight of the dare inside them, pure temptation.
Come and get me.
Ignoring the blatant taunt, I pass the club, irritated I can’t indulge. I can’t remember the last time I sated myself with a girl or did anything considered normal. Would it hurt, just once, to spend a Saturday night at a club? To reward myself with a long, thorough fuck to take the edge off?