Only Love
Page 18
“I was awake. My windows are open, and I heard something and thought I saw you through the window. What are you doing?”
“Uh, building you a swing. But it was supposed to be a surprise.” Now that she’d caught me at it, I was kind of embarrassed. What if she thought this was stupid?
“You built me a swing?” She came a little closer, and I realized she might not be able to see it in the dark. The moon was only a sliver tonight.
“Yeah.” I grabbed one of the ropes. “Right here.”
She stared at it. “Why?”
“I’m not entirely sure.”
Her eyes met mine, and my heart pumped harder.
“Want to try it?” I asked.
“Like right now?”
I moved behind it and held both ropes steady. “Come sit.”
She hesitated, and I thought maybe she was going to tell me to quit being weird and go home before she called the cops, but after a few silent seconds, she came toward me. Turned around. Lowered herself to the seat and closed her fingers around the ropes.
“Well?” I asked. “How does it feel? Like you’re a kid again?”
“This was very kind of you, but not necessary.” Her tone was stiffer than her posture.
“Stella.”
She didn’t answer.
“I’m sorry.”
“About what?”
“Last night.”
“You’re sorry about what we did?”
“I think I’m more sorry about what we didn’t do.”
Her head turned sharply, and she looked at me over one shoulder. “You sure know how to confuse a girl.”
“One of my many talents.”
She looked straight ahead again. “Tell me about some other ones. And give me a push.”
I smiled, even though she couldn’t see it, and gave her a little nudge. “I’m fast.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah.” I gave her a little harder push.
“Track team in high school?”
“Tried. Didn’t take.”
“Why not?”
“They expected me to show up for practice.”
“Ah.” She straightened her legs and leaned back in the swing, her hair dangling behind her. “Tell me another one.”
I gave her another push. “I’m good with my hands.”
Her laugh floated back to me. “I have observed this about you already. Give me another one.”
I pushed her again, just so I could feel her hair brush against my hands. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
“No? Nothing?”
“Nothing I can think of.”
“Hmm.”
“Are you analyzing me now?”
“Kind of. I mean, you can’t say something like that to a therapist and expect her not to reflect on it a little bit, right?”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Do you think I’m a liar or a fool?”
“Neither,” she answered. “I think you mean what you say. I think you only lie when you have to, and even then, you hate it. And if I dug a little deeper—which I won’t, because my sisters have told me it’s annoying and intrusive—I think I might discover that it’s because above all, you value your honor. Your word.”
For a moment, I was too stunned to think or move or speak. Then I said, “I take it back.”
“Take what back?”
“What I said. That I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Oh? And what are you afraid of?”
She swung back toward me and I caught her around the waist. Put my lips to her ear. “Your ability to read my mind.”
Beneath my arms I could feel her chest expand and contract faster. “I’m sorry, Ryan. I know I shouldn’t say those—”
“Come home with me,” I said, my voice raw with something like thirst. I pressed my lips to her throat and breathed in her scent. I let one hand move toward her breast. I waited for an elbow to the ribcage, a cry for help, a slap across the face. Because if she could read my mind right now, she’d know exactly what I wanted to do to her—and it was a long, detailed list.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”
Thirteen
Grams
I’d heard the back door open and shut, but only once. As if someone had gone out, but not returned.
I sleep lightly anyway, but the thought that something might be afoot between Stella and Ryan had me all aflutter. I didn’t even stop to put my robe on before shuffling into the darkened kitchen in my slippers.
But without turning the light on, it was impossible to see anything in the yard.
Had I imagined it?
I moved quietly through the dining room and living room and up the stairs. Stella’s bedroom door was ajar. It wouldn’t be invading her privacy if I pushed it open all the way, would it?
I did it anyway.
The bed was empty.
With a self-satisfied smile, I made my way back to bed, pausing only to make sure both the front and back doors were unlocked.
That pie worked every time.
Fourteen
Stella
We raced across the lawn toward his house hand in hand. My heart was pounding so loud, it was all I could hear inside my head. I was bursting with something that felt like pure adrenaline in my veins, and I’d never wanted anything more than I wanted the man pulling me up his back porch steps, holding open the kitchen door, and crushing his mouth to mine the second he came in behind me.
The kitchen was dark and silent and still smelled like apple pie. For a second I wondered if he’d heated it up for dinner. But I didn’t have a chance to think about it for long because his hands were at the bottom of my shirt, yanking it up. I lifted my arms and let him pull it off and before I could even feel self-conscious about being bare-chested in front of him, he whipped off his shirt too. Backing me up against the counter, he brought his lips to mine once more as his hands moved freely over my skin. I shivered at his touch, although I was plenty warm.
I slid my hands over all the sculpted curves and lines I’d been admiring for two days—abs and chest and back and shoulders and biceps and forearms. I tilted my head back as his mouth moved down my throat. I arched my back and pushed my breasts into his hands. He groaned and lifted them both toward his face, taking one hard nipple into his mouth and then the other, as if he couldn’t decide between the two. I put my hands in his hair and reveled in being desired so fully, the roughness of his stubble against my sensitive skin, the sounds he made as he licked and kissed and sucked.
A moment later, he dropped down in front of me and pulled my pajama bottoms and underwear to my ankles, lifting one foot and then the other.
Then I was naked. In front of him. In the kitchen.
I felt the change in me immediately, as if my blood started to cool. My heart didn’t slow down, but now every other beat seemed punctuated by nerves.
He stood up and immediately kissed me again, this time slipping one hand between my thighs. I wanted to reach between his, but something held me back. Instead, I threw my arms around his neck and pressed my bare chest to his, willing my mind to shut off, my body to relax. I wanted this with him. I wanted everything.
He sensed something was off. “Hey,” he said, his voice deep and soft. “You okay?”
I nodded.
He put both hands on my hips and pulled back a little. “I don’t believe you. What’s wrong?”
“I’m—I’m nervous,” I confessed. “It’s been a really long time.”
“For me too.”
“Really?”
“Really. So long I’m afraid of embarrassing myself.”
“That’s how I feel too, but …” I laughed nervously. “Probably for a different reason.”
“What’s your reason?”
I took a deep breath and focused on my hands against his chest. “I’m worried it won’t be good for you.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? That’s what you’re worried about? Me?”
“Well, yes. All these things are going through my head, like what if my body isn’t perfect? What if I don’t move the right way? What if he thinks I’m not fun?”
“Uh, building you a swing. But it was supposed to be a surprise.” Now that she’d caught me at it, I was kind of embarrassed. What if she thought this was stupid?
“You built me a swing?” She came a little closer, and I realized she might not be able to see it in the dark. The moon was only a sliver tonight.
“Yeah.” I grabbed one of the ropes. “Right here.”
She stared at it. “Why?”
“I’m not entirely sure.”
Her eyes met mine, and my heart pumped harder.
“Want to try it?” I asked.
“Like right now?”
I moved behind it and held both ropes steady. “Come sit.”
She hesitated, and I thought maybe she was going to tell me to quit being weird and go home before she called the cops, but after a few silent seconds, she came toward me. Turned around. Lowered herself to the seat and closed her fingers around the ropes.
“Well?” I asked. “How does it feel? Like you’re a kid again?”
“This was very kind of you, but not necessary.” Her tone was stiffer than her posture.
“Stella.”
She didn’t answer.
“I’m sorry.”
“About what?”
“Last night.”
“You’re sorry about what we did?”
“I think I’m more sorry about what we didn’t do.”
Her head turned sharply, and she looked at me over one shoulder. “You sure know how to confuse a girl.”
“One of my many talents.”
She looked straight ahead again. “Tell me about some other ones. And give me a push.”
I smiled, even though she couldn’t see it, and gave her a little nudge. “I’m fast.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah.” I gave her a little harder push.
“Track team in high school?”
“Tried. Didn’t take.”
“Why not?”
“They expected me to show up for practice.”
“Ah.” She straightened her legs and leaned back in the swing, her hair dangling behind her. “Tell me another one.”
I gave her another push. “I’m good with my hands.”
Her laugh floated back to me. “I have observed this about you already. Give me another one.”
I pushed her again, just so I could feel her hair brush against my hands. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
“No? Nothing?”
“Nothing I can think of.”
“Hmm.”
“Are you analyzing me now?”
“Kind of. I mean, you can’t say something like that to a therapist and expect her not to reflect on it a little bit, right?”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Do you think I’m a liar or a fool?”
“Neither,” she answered. “I think you mean what you say. I think you only lie when you have to, and even then, you hate it. And if I dug a little deeper—which I won’t, because my sisters have told me it’s annoying and intrusive—I think I might discover that it’s because above all, you value your honor. Your word.”
For a moment, I was too stunned to think or move or speak. Then I said, “I take it back.”
“Take what back?”
“What I said. That I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Oh? And what are you afraid of?”
She swung back toward me and I caught her around the waist. Put my lips to her ear. “Your ability to read my mind.”
Beneath my arms I could feel her chest expand and contract faster. “I’m sorry, Ryan. I know I shouldn’t say those—”
“Come home with me,” I said, my voice raw with something like thirst. I pressed my lips to her throat and breathed in her scent. I let one hand move toward her breast. I waited for an elbow to the ribcage, a cry for help, a slap across the face. Because if she could read my mind right now, she’d know exactly what I wanted to do to her—and it was a long, detailed list.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”
Thirteen
Grams
I’d heard the back door open and shut, but only once. As if someone had gone out, but not returned.
I sleep lightly anyway, but the thought that something might be afoot between Stella and Ryan had me all aflutter. I didn’t even stop to put my robe on before shuffling into the darkened kitchen in my slippers.
But without turning the light on, it was impossible to see anything in the yard.
Had I imagined it?
I moved quietly through the dining room and living room and up the stairs. Stella’s bedroom door was ajar. It wouldn’t be invading her privacy if I pushed it open all the way, would it?
I did it anyway.
The bed was empty.
With a self-satisfied smile, I made my way back to bed, pausing only to make sure both the front and back doors were unlocked.
That pie worked every time.
Fourteen
Stella
We raced across the lawn toward his house hand in hand. My heart was pounding so loud, it was all I could hear inside my head. I was bursting with something that felt like pure adrenaline in my veins, and I’d never wanted anything more than I wanted the man pulling me up his back porch steps, holding open the kitchen door, and crushing his mouth to mine the second he came in behind me.
The kitchen was dark and silent and still smelled like apple pie. For a second I wondered if he’d heated it up for dinner. But I didn’t have a chance to think about it for long because his hands were at the bottom of my shirt, yanking it up. I lifted my arms and let him pull it off and before I could even feel self-conscious about being bare-chested in front of him, he whipped off his shirt too. Backing me up against the counter, he brought his lips to mine once more as his hands moved freely over my skin. I shivered at his touch, although I was plenty warm.
I slid my hands over all the sculpted curves and lines I’d been admiring for two days—abs and chest and back and shoulders and biceps and forearms. I tilted my head back as his mouth moved down my throat. I arched my back and pushed my breasts into his hands. He groaned and lifted them both toward his face, taking one hard nipple into his mouth and then the other, as if he couldn’t decide between the two. I put my hands in his hair and reveled in being desired so fully, the roughness of his stubble against my sensitive skin, the sounds he made as he licked and kissed and sucked.
A moment later, he dropped down in front of me and pulled my pajama bottoms and underwear to my ankles, lifting one foot and then the other.
Then I was naked. In front of him. In the kitchen.
I felt the change in me immediately, as if my blood started to cool. My heart didn’t slow down, but now every other beat seemed punctuated by nerves.
He stood up and immediately kissed me again, this time slipping one hand between my thighs. I wanted to reach between his, but something held me back. Instead, I threw my arms around his neck and pressed my bare chest to his, willing my mind to shut off, my body to relax. I wanted this with him. I wanted everything.
He sensed something was off. “Hey,” he said, his voice deep and soft. “You okay?”
I nodded.
He put both hands on my hips and pulled back a little. “I don’t believe you. What’s wrong?”
“I’m—I’m nervous,” I confessed. “It’s been a really long time.”
“For me too.”
“Really?”
“Really. So long I’m afraid of embarrassing myself.”
“That’s how I feel too, but …” I laughed nervously. “Probably for a different reason.”
“What’s your reason?”
I took a deep breath and focused on my hands against his chest. “I’m worried it won’t be good for you.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? That’s what you’re worried about? Me?”
“Well, yes. All these things are going through my head, like what if my body isn’t perfect? What if I don’t move the right way? What if he thinks I’m not fun?”
