Page 81 of The Truth About You and Me
‘I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you right now.’
‘So take me.’
He stands, and I drink him in as he undoes his flies, pulls down his jeans, and for a moment I can’t move, can’t speak. I look at him, all of him: broad shoulders, dark hair running down from his belly button, long eyelashes, lips swollen. I sit up onto my knees, pull him back to the bed. He’s hard against me and our mouths crash against each other, teeth and tongue and rough and soft. I reach out a hand, yank open my bedside drawer, pulling out a condom and pushing it into his hand. He stops, draws back. ‘You’re sure?’ he asks again.
‘Yes.’ He tears the packet with his teeth, and a few moments later, he’s above me. His thoughts loud and pulsing.
He glides his thumb over my bottom lip, kisses me again, and then I feel the length of him, hips against mine. My arms circle his neck pulling him deeper and closer than I ever dreamed I could.
And all I see, feel, and hear, is us.
34
MAGGIE
It’s late, but I’m resisting sleep. I run my fingers through the dark hairs on his chest, his thoughts a gentle beat of joy, tenderness and wonder.
‘What are you thinking?’ he asks me, twirling a lock of hair around his finger.
‘That I don’t think I’ve ever felt this happy. That I never thought I’d ever be able to have this.’
He pulls me against his chest, wraps an arm around me.
‘I can hear your heart beating.’
The weight of our feelings for each other flexes into the silence.
‘Do you need some space?’ he says gently. His hand stops drawing circles on my arm.
‘No.’
‘It must be loud in there.’ He taps my forehead gently.
‘It’s not actually. You’re calm; your thoughts are quieter than normal.’
‘And while we were…’
‘We were both loud, Jack. I couldn’t tell who was who most of the time.’
His phone buzzes from somewhere on the floor.
‘Do you need to get that?’
‘Nope.’
He shifts, facing me. I hook a leg over his hip as he kisses me. ‘No it’s not too fast and yes I want you again,’ I say. He deepens the kiss but the phone rings again.
I grab the back of his hair and pull him closer.
Shit. Ignore it, ignore it.
The phone rings again, demanding to be answered. He draws back and shakes his head.
‘Sorry, I’d better take it.’ He kisses me again. ‘Don’t move, OK? Stay right there.’ And then he’s pulling on his jeans.
I wave away his apology.
He leaves the room, phone clamped to his ear. ‘Hey…’ The rest of the conversation stolen by the closed door.
