Page 42 of Never Bound

“Maybe I was.”

He paused as if he couldn’t believe that a maker, even one he didn’t believe in, would makemeforhim,but like a lot of things tonight, he was willing to go with it.

“You’regoodat this, you know, Lou. You really are. How do you do it?”

“When I met you, I was starting to think I wasn’t good at anything,” I whispered. “Anything that mattered, anyway.”

“You’re so wrong, Lou,” he said, shaking his head. “You’resowrong. If I could only give you one thing in this life, it would be to give you the chance to see yourself the way I see you. Now and always.”

I blinked, a screen of mist across my eyes.

“You’re good at theonlythings that matter. So much more than numbers and formulas. Things I can’t comprehend. Maybe I never will. Maybe Ican’t.”

“If I can get o-chem …” I trailed off.

“What you’re good at is harder, Lou,” he said with a sigh. “So much harder. For me, anyway.”

“I know it is,” I said, my hands loosely gripping his arms, sliding down to where his hands balanced on the mattress on either side of my body. “But you’re smarter than I am.”

“Let’s call it even,” he said with a smile. “How does this feel? Because I’m going to speed up. Unless—”

“It feels wonderful,” I said, arching my back as if I might accept even more of him, as if this image, this scene, hadn’t been somewhere in the back of my mind from the very moment I saw him—from the very moment Iheardhim. “Do it.”

I wanted it. I wasn’t afraid anymore. Of anything. Of darkness, of abandonment, of punishment, of pain. Tomorrow would bring what tomorrow would, but in this moment, at least, it was all conquered already. And after he arched down and kissed me again, there was nothing left to do but take his advice and keep breathing; through the hammering of his hips and the incredible noises he was making, through the frantic increase in his tempo, through his pinning me down against the bed with the incredible strength of all his wanting, through his coming with a quiver, one that seemed to squeeze his body from the inside out, then let him go.

Withdrawing, he bent to kiss me but hovered over me, just for a second, just to look. Damp strands of golden hair brushed my face. I reached up to push them away from his forehead as I had earlier. He’d leaned into it then, but now he just closed his eyes, collapsing into my touch and my lips.

He removed the condom and returned immediately to me, tiredly reaching for my curls, bunching them together in his hand, then letting them fall gently over my breast. A boy running his hand down the snowy, heaving flank of a unicorn. Something he still couldn’t believe was real.

“What do you want, Lou?” he whispered. “What can I do to get you to come for me?”

“Just kiss me,” I breathed. “And touch me. You know that’s all you ever have to do.”

And he did, his lips and tongue featherlight and gentle on my lips, neck, and ear. He knew all the places. After only a few weeks, they belonged to him.Ibelonged to him, in all the same ways that he belonged to me.

His kisses and his fingers sweeping over my clit were enough for me to yield again and forever. I moaned softly, ready for it; nothing needed in my mind but the wonder on his face moments ago, feeling exactly how a man should feel. Exactly how I’d wanted to make him feel.You’re my dream come to life.And it took a few more seconds only before I was up, up, floating far above the earth, far above the cruel ruin men had made of it, and then I came like falling, like snowflakes drifting down to cover it all in white.

12

HER

Ifellasleepinhisarms, but I woke up in darkness, alone in the bed.

He was gone.

I pawed the cold sheets.No.

Panic. Terror. Paralysis. He said he was staying. I hadn’t dreamed that. Icouldn’thave. There was time. He said there was time. Therehadto be time.

Then from the bedside came a voice. I collapsed bonelessly into the soft mattress, my heart rate returning to normal.

“Wake up, Lou,” he whispered, flicking on the bedside lamp. “I need someone to come stargaze with me!”

I relaxed further when I was greeted by the soft glow of the bulb reflecting in his wide-awake, eager eyes. “What time is it?”

“Four a.m.”

I recognized that excited tone, which made him sound not more than ten years old. It was way too early in the morning for a boy to be this cute.

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