Page 17 of Come Back To Me

I rolled on top of him to distract him from my outlandish statement, pressing my nose to his.

“That seems wrong,” he said, his voice husky. “Something as powerful as you.” He reached up to knead my behind and I closed my eyes and buried my face in the crook of his neck.

“Again,” I said. “Let’s go to church again…”

He grabbed my thighs and moved them apart so that I was straddling him.

“Open then,” he said. “Let me in.”

Open then, let me in.

I put the coffee on and then slipped into the bathroom to brush my teeth and get my hair in order. I could hear him snoring softly from the bedroom, a gentle sound, yet it gave me anxiety. I didn’t normally let them spend the night, but he wasn’t like the others, was he? No, around the others I’d always felt too dressed, armored. They’d pried and pulled a little, but my armor was custom-made, strong. With David, I felt naked, the softest parts of my flesh exposed and vulnerable. That’s why I was in the bathroom straightening myself up when it normally wouldn’t matter. Like I could cover one thing up with another, you know?

I reached for the mugs and set them on the counter, my hands shaking. He was a good boy, but he was a boy. Not at all like the men I usually sleep with: hard…detached…sleazy. I heard him stir in the other room and then the rustle of sheets as he got out of bed. I prepared my face, arranged it so that I looked bored.No big deal, men are whatevs. It was awful to be this person, so jammed up with bad experiences you couldn’t let anyone see your real face. He came up behind me and wrapped his arms up and under my T-shirt so we were skin to skin. I liked it, though under no circumstances would I ever have admitted that. I felt like one of those babies in the preemie ward who needed kangaroo care to bond.

“Hello,” I said. “I’ve made the coffee.”

I turned away, busied myself with the sugar and cream. So white. One was smooth and rich, the other was grainy and hard. I liked the way they looked sitting next to each other: the pot of cream and the bowl of sugar.

“I can see that.”

He spun me around, the tops of his fingers already skimming the right places on my underwear. I let him back me up until I was pressed against the counter, the coffee pot hissed softly behind me. I decided right then that the sound of coffee brewing was the best soundtrack for sex. His hair was disheveled, his eyes filled with me as he stared on steadfastly.Be careful, David,I wanted to say. He was trying to see into me and that was never a good idea. Both of his thumbs looped through the sides of my panties as he worked at tugging them off. They slid down my legs and I closed my eyes against the feeling: soft cotton became so erotic paired with desire. The hissing of the coffee, the finger that found me and pressed in. My knees buckled, just a little and I sucked air through my teeth until I made my own hissing.

“Oh yeah?” he said, looking interested. “Tell me more.” He had such full lips, such earnest eyes.

I bit my bottom lip, determined not to make another sound. I wouldn’t tell him a damn thing.

“Tell me, Yara,” he urged.

I tilted my head up, trying not to pant, calling to the white expanse of the ceiling for help.

“You don’t want to give me your voice, but your eyes speak too,” he said. I closed them. “Ah. Well, that takes care of that.” He switched up his movements: one thumb on the outside, two fingers inside. Everything was moving in a circle.

Rhythm,I thought.He’s a musician.I felt his free hand move to my chest. Not my breast, but to the general area where my heart was beating out a fast song.

“What about this?” he said. “Can you slow your heart rate too…your breathing?” I did. I took a couple of deep breaths, relaxed. I was climbing, even so, it was uphill, a bit strained.

“All right,” he said. Our cheeks were pressed together and I could feel his breath on my ear.

“You forgot about one thing though, Yara.” He added speed and pressure to the movement his fingers were making. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to ask him what it was I forgot, and I was afraid of what my voice would sound like if I did.

“You’re very, very wet,” he said. “Your body will always betray you. It’s a tattletale.” And then I came so hard there really was no way to keep the sounds inside of my body. I cried out and when I was finished, I slid down to the floor exhausted. David whistled while he poured the coffee. He glanced down once to ask how many sugars I took and I held up two fingers without looking at him. Then he handed me my mug and sat down next to me on the floor.

“This is nice,” he said. He sipped his coffee and stared at the wall with me, one leg up, his forearm resting casually across his knee.

“We’re just staring at a wall,” I said.

“We are,” he assured me. “We’re staring at a wall, and my fingers smell like you, and just a few hours ago I came really fucking hard inside the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And now we’re doing my favorite thing—drinking coffee and being reflective…while staring at a wall.”

I nodded with a new appreciation for my wall. “It’s a nice wall,” I said. “Very white.”

“Very white,” he agreed. “And smooth.”

“It wouldn’t be as white if I had kids. People with kids always have dingy walls.” I don’t know what possessed me to say it. Why in that moment I was even thinking of kids, especially since I DID NOT WANT THEM. David seized the moment.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I know I’m good in bed, but damn, girl. Already planning out our life together.” I stared at him, mortified and he laughed. “Relax, English,” he said. “I’ll ask you to marry me first. Stages.”

I sighed. “You were pretty good,” I said. “Pity you were only good for about four minutes before…”

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