Page 90 of Renascence
“Didn’t think I’d see you again.”
“Honestly, I almost didn’t come.”
“Why did you?”
“You.” She rubs her palms on the side of her jeans in a nervous manner, sitting next to me. “Like I said, I’ve been thinking.”
“And?”
“And I’ve been muddying the waters of our agreement. I’ve never had a relationship like this one, and sometimes I forget. It’s not my place to question your actions and lifestyle choices, or ask you to cuddle, or anything you don’t want to do. I’m sorry.”
“What are you saying?” I ask, wanting to hear the words.
“I’m saying I want to continue our arrangement. If you want to, that is,” she quickly adds. “I can’t promise I won’t mess up, but I’ll try to do better.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes. I know you won’t hurt me, but I’d rather not be in a position like the one you put me in the other night.”
“That was on me and I’m sorry. I guess I was muddying the waters, too. I won’t try to involve you in club stuff anymore.”
“I like it here, at the clubhouse. I don’t mind it, but just not… out. Not where the ‘unfriendlies’ are,” she says, complete with air quotes.
“You got it, darlin’.”
She closes her eyes, a sense of calm overcoming her.
“I love it when you call me that.”
“Well, darlin’, why don’t you come over here and give me a kiss, darlin’?”
She giggles, straddling my lap without instruction, gently pressing her lips to mine. It’s at this moment, the point of contact, that I realize how much I really missed this. Her.
My hands glide up her thighs, grabbing her ass and squeezing. Fuck, her body feels so good against me, in my hands, on top of me.
“Need to fuck you, Emily,” I groan.
She moans, mumbling against my lips, “Can’t.”
“Why the fuck not?”
She pulls back, putting space between our lips. I hate space. I hate space betweenus.
“Chopper told me to tell you that dinner is ready.”
“Fuck Chopper, and fuck dinner. I’m getting inside you now. No condom.”
“What?”
“Got the test results back.”
“Where are they?” she asks eagerly, hopping off my lap.
Fuck. Me.
Growling in frustration, I retrieve them from the drawer on the nightstand, handing her all three envelopes. She looks them over quite thoroughly before handing them back with a grin.
“I saw my doctor while I was in ATL. Got my shot,” she teases, backing away toward the door.
