Page 115 of When Fences Fall
“No.” I shake my head, reinforcing the statement. “Give me all the crazy.”
“Even full moon rituals?” Her smile is shy.
I nod. “Especially if they’re naked.”
Her smile grows wider. “And sage purges?”
“I think I saw a ghost in my basement this morning.”
She giggles. “We don’t purge ghosts—they might be protecting your house.”
“We will purge the rooster then.”
“He’s the native of the land.”
I laugh full voice. “See? I’ll take all the crazy.” I sit beside her, the bed dipping under our combined weight. “I’m not good at this, Nora, but I’ll try. For you.”
“You keep saying that.” She leans against me. “But I think you’re better than you realize.”
I slip my arm around her waist, drawing her closer. “I’m not.” Saying the next words is much harder than I anticipated. “I haven’t had… many relationships.”
“You have hookups then?”
Swallowing a hard lump in my throat, I shake my head.
Her eyes widen. “What do you have then?”
Lifting up my right hand in the air, I chuckle. Her big eyes move from my hand to my face and back to my hand. When realization settles in, she lets out a small giggle. Then another. A second after, she’s giggling full force. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.” I accept it with a very uncomfortable smile, but I let this knowledge settle in for her.
Her face suddenly brightens. “So I don’t have to compete with anyone?”
This is what she gathered out of my confession? Mentally shaking my head to this full of wonders woman, I say, “Nora, no one would ever measure up to you.”
Her face is beaming so bright it almost radiates light. “That’s the best pickup line of all time.”
Placing both her hands on either side of my face, she kisses me then, slow and deep, and I let myself get lost in it, in her. I sink into the moment, into the softness of her breath, the insistence of her lips.
The way she tastes is like this tempting combination of acceptance and resistance. It’s a heady blend that breaks down my defenses until I’m convinced this is the only place I want to be. We fall back onto the bed, limbs tangling, hands exploring, the world narrowing down to the two of us, and all the chaos in my head finally going quiet.
My hands get greedier. I grab onto every inch of her body I can. Taste everything I can. I want to take myself up on that long ago promise of having her thighs wrapped around my head.
My blood starts boiling. I want to pull her into me. Feel all of her. I’m not sure who’s trembling more, me or her, or if it even matters. All I know is that I want more. Her fingers are in my hair, on my shoulders, pulling me closer, and I can’t tell which of us is losing our minds faster.
But we’re in her bed, with her all-knowing grandmother down the hall, and somehow it cools down my jets. I know how this goes, how we won’t hear the end of it, how she’ll tell Nora I can’t keep my pants on. She’s the matriarch of Nora’s family, someone my woman loves and respects, so I can’t let her have a bad opinion about me in any capacity.
My instincts war with each other, the pull to keep going and the urge to stop, desperate for more and terrified of what comes after.
“Fuck this,” I grunt, pushing away. Her mouth goes slack, surprised.
“W-what?” she asks with clouded eyes, lifting herself on her elbows. She looks half dazed or half drunk or some beautiful mixture of both.
“C’mere.” I stretch out my arm to her, waiting for her to grab my hand, and then I pull her up with me.
“What’s happening?” she asks, clearly disoriented by the passion of the moment.
My excitement becomes too obvious to be contained by the loose pants I’m wearing, and I second-guess my choice in clothing. And sure enough, her gaze drops to my lap.
