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I reach out, fingers brushing against the matted, almost woolly texture of my stuffed horse’s coat. “I stitched it.”
“Why haven’t you kissed me?” My question rings out in the empty space. I swear it echoes through the entire oversized house.
“Fuck it!” His hand rips away from his mouth, like he tore off a piece of tape that was keeping him from talking, and with two long steps, he’s here. In front of me.
He nods back at me and steps away, hands falling from my cheeks. I want to yell at him to put them back. I want his hands on me. All over me. Inside me.
It wasn’t my first kiss, but it was my first kiss to feel like that.
Sometimes I’m adorably naive, even to myself.
“I know you did not just cut my sister-in-law off and pretend like you didn’t see her.”
“Yeah, he did. She’s pretty much good as new. Just a cool badass scar and a wild story to tell.” The smile that touches Willa’s lips now is soft, not the maniacal grin from before. “Kinda like Beau.”
Any guy who holds a strong opinion on how you style your pubic hair doesn’t deserve to be between your legs.
“I know you’re scared of losing control around me.” Her chin tips up as though she’s told me
something that will make me back down. Run me off. It doesn’t. “No, I’m scared of you becoming something I can’t live without.”
“But what do men li—” “No. Don’t ask yourself that. What do you like?”
“That’s not what I noticed.” “What did you notice?” He groans, eyes flickering shut for a beat. “The noises you made,” he confesses quietly as his palm slides up over my ribs. “How wet you were.”
I feel like someone else right now. Someone beautiful and powerful, someone sure of herself and what she wants.
“Seems unfair that you get to play with this pretty pussy when I’m the one who’s been down on his knees doing all the hard work.”
“You’re fucking delicious,” he rasps, then slings my legs over his shoulders.
My orgasm rocks my very foundation. Beau stays between my legs as I come back down, softly licking and sucking and telling me how pretty I am, and that makes my addiction to him even more obsessive.
“New rule, Bailey.” He points at my left hand, slung over the edge of the tub, and then between my legs. “So long as you’re wearing that ring, this pussy is mine.”
“Bailey,” I croak her name in the quiet room, and she stops but doesn’t turn. “Stay.”
Leave it to Bailey to support me more than I care to support myself.
“Why didn’t you let me put your cock in my mouth earlier?” Good fucking god. “Bailey.”
And I spend all night dreaming of teaching her all the things she wants to know. But only here and only for me.
There’s something fractured about Beau. About his spirit. Like he’s torn between so many versions of himself and doesn’t know which one to pick. I wish he knew it's okay to be all of them with me.
I hold him close, the wind whipping against us as we race down the highway into the city. At every stoplight, he reaches back and rubs my calf until it turns green again. And nothing about any of it feels fake.
She can be herself here. And I can’t stop staring at her.
I lean over the table, elbows pressed to the flat surface with my forearms crossed, and say, “If you want someone to eye-fuck, I’m right here.”
By the time we make it home, I’ve realized that I’ll probably give this girl anything she wants. A ring. Sex.
Forever.
“Bailey, stop running your mouth or I’ll find another creative way to keep it busy.”
Her tongue darts out over her puffy rosebud lips. Her eyes are furious flames. “Good. Do it.”
“Bailey. I’m not ignoring you.” She licks her lips. “You should.”
“Impossible. I’m memorizing you,”
“What do you think about while you do it?” “You.” Fuck. She doesn’t even hesitate. Lips parted, both hands working between her legs.
“I’m so fucking hung up on you, it’s not even funny,”
At 2:11, I woke with a gasp rather than a yell. She reached for me before padding to the bathroom and returning with lotion that smelled like her.
That seems like it’s vastly understating whatever it is I feel for Bailey. Invested. Possessive. Obsessed.
Buildings crop up as downtown comes into view. As we draw closer to the bar. To Bailey. To the girl I might spend a lifetime wishing I’d told this thing isn’t fake to me anymore.
I should be Beau Eaton’s biggest fan today. He made me see stars last night and then held me against him like I was his favorite stuffed toy all night long.
Lying in the sun, pretending to read when I’m fairly sure I just read the same page over and over again while waiting for him to show up.
When I push, he pushes back. When he pushes, I push back. We keep ending up right in the middle. Together.
“You need to tell her.” I don’t know if I hear it or if I read his lips. All I know is that one sentence lands in my gut like a boulder at the bottom of a lake. Tell me what?
“I’m not admiring it, Bailey. I’m telling you it means something to me. I’m telling you there are only so many firsts in your life before every day just turns into a blur of more of the same. I’m telling you that, whether or not you realize it, it might mean something to you one day.
Every word feels like he’s tearing away a piece of my heart I swore I wouldn’t give to him. I thought I hadn’t.
His head drops, and he kisses a tear that streaks down my face. “I can’t fucking stand the sight of you crying.”
“Did you forget what you wanted to say, Beau? Because I think I can’t do this anymore sums things up, don’t you?”
“What I meant to say is . . . will you go out with me?”
“If you had let me finish, I’d have told you I couldn’t keep doing it anymore because pretending this thing between us is fake is fucking killing me.”
“I’m done pretending to be head over heels in love with you because I’m legitimately head over heels in love with you. And acting like I’m not tears me up.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to say any more before he’s pulling my hand down and sliding the engagement ring back onto my finger. “This belongs here,” he murmurs.
Because I do intend to marry you. And I want you to wear that fucking ring while I show you that it’s true.”
