Page 31 of Finally Forever
“Were you in my room in the attic at Nathan’s house?”
“Yes. Several times.”
He nods and takes another bite of food, chewing thoughtfully. “It could be nothing,” he repeats, as if preparing me for a letdown. “I dreamed you were…covered in gold glitter and ethereal.” He shakes his head, his gaze on his plate. “It’s probably my mind meshing together odd details that clearly make no sense. I’m not a fantasy kind of dreamer. There was no context or conversation other than an image of you sitting on my couch. Maybe.” He shakes his head again, looking more flustered than I’ve seen him since the accident.
“You’re right,” I say with a smile. “It’s not your brain messing with you. I was dressed up like a Greek goddess for a toga party that Nathan threw at the house. I had gold glitter body spray all over me, even in my hair.”
His eyes find mine. “I remembered?”
I nod and fight the urge to cry. “Yes. You remembered.” My voice wobbles with my emotions. “You’re incredible at healing. You’re incredible at most things, so it makes sense.”
A teeny tiny smile shows on his face, his eyes alight in a way I haven’t seen since before his coma. He exhales a breath he might have been holding and looks me over in a new way. As if he’s trying to picture me covered in gold glitter like in his dream.
“I wish I had that costume. I’d put it on just to see if it’d help you remember more.” A blush crawls up my cheeks at the memory of that night and how we made out for the first time.
“What are you recalling?” His stare is intense, his voice curious and sexy.
“You gave me my first orgasm that night,” I murmur.
One side of his mouth hikes up higher. “Your first?”
My cheeks burst with heat, and I bow my head. “I’m not proud of how old I was before that happened, but I was grateful. Before that night, I thought I was broken.”
“Ainsley?” he murmurs my name with a hint of intimacy in his tone. “Did you date before we…did what we did that night?”
“A little.”
“Did you make out with the guy? Guys?”
“Yep.”
“You weren’t broken. You were with boys. Babies who didn’t know how to please you—or please anyone, is my guess.”
I smile at the table. “You said something similar back then, too.”
“What did we do? That night. How did I give you an orgasm?” The low rumble in his voice and this freaking conversation causes parts of me to tingle with need.
I squeeze my thighs together, but I can’t hide my faster breathing. “Um… We…I…rode you.” My entire body erupts with heat, part from embarrassment and part with arousal. Never could I have imaginedthiswould be our breakfast conversation, especially with how aloof he is toward me. It’s weird.
“So we had sex?”
“My clothes were on.” If a toga and bathing suit count as clothes. “Yours were, too.”
A pause. “How did I react to you riding me?”
Jesus, this will kill me, and is that arousal I hear in his voice? It could be the topic, I remind myself. Sebastian was very sexual before me. Not that we’re not sexual, but maybe not in the kinky way he was with other people. “You were turned on.”
“Just turned on? Did I come?”
Seriously? My skin must be red all over, my body burning with desire as if lava flowed through my veins. I squeeze my thighs tighter and squirm on the seat, certain he’s taking note of every response I make. It’s one of the reasons why I can’t look at him. The other is he’ll see just how turned on I am. And the other is, if I don’t see in his eyes what I’m hearing in his voice, I’ll know just how far out of reach he is from me—possibly forever.
I clear my throat. “No.” I hate that he didn’t.
“Did I touch you?” he asks, voice filled with anger.
I look up. “Yes. In all the right places.”
That anger shows in his tight gaze. “Where?”
