Date Me Like You Mean It

by Grey, R. S.

  Oh Maddie.

  I’ve been lost.

  New York City has millions of people, and not one of them is you.

  She pulls away and breaks our kiss, trailing her mouth along my jaw and neck. Her hand works over me, pumping harder, and a shiver racks down my spine. Fuck it feels too good. I nearly let her continue like that and finish me off with her hand. I want that desperately, but not right now. It’ll have to wait.

  I grip her wrist and still her movements. Her gaze meets mine as I slide her hand up and out of my jeans. I hitch her higher on my hips, pushing her against the wall, and then I lean back to undo the button on my jeans so I can unzip my fly. Maddie stares as the teeth of my zipper slide apart.

  She’s still too clothed, but her red dress is bunched up at her waist and her panties are easy to tug to one side. I cover her with my hand, sliding up and down between her warm thighs. Water drips down my wrist, coating her. Her hands are on my shoulders and she uses them to brace herself, gripping me tighter as my finger dips inside of her.

  I watch her lips fall open more the deeper my finger goes.

  Her eyes flutter closed and her breathing hitches as I slide out and back in, getting her ready.

  Time slows for a moment as I have her there, suspended on my hips, tight around my finger. I have her all to myself, and I don’t want to waste the opportunity.

  My jeans and boxer briefs get shoved down a few inches further, just enough.

  “Wrap your arms around my neck,” I tell her.

  She holds up some of her weight, just enough to make it easy for me to guide myself inside her. A shallow inch becomes two and then she lets herself sink down onto me, slowly, slowly lowering as my world implodes.

  She whimpers as I adjust her. It’s probably too much too soon. The angle and the position and the smooth tiled shower wall mean there’s no way for her to brace herself so we can do this the gentle way, but then that’s been the entire evening, hasn’t it? There’s been nothing gentle about our fight or the snowballs she pummeled me with.

  I let her ride me in the shower. Water drips down her chest as she gets more comfortable, easing her thighs apart so she sinks down onto me even further.

  Tight heat surrounds me. I pinch my eyes closed, trying to gather willpower. I thrust my hips and she whimpers. I focus on the sound of her breaths, the feel of her hands on my neck, the brush of her chest against mine as she leans in to tighten her hold around me. She’s off the wall now, depending on me to keep her up. My arms wrap around her waist and my heart pounds against her chest, heavy with longing.

  We’re moving, meeting thrust for thrust. My arms lift her up and off me and then I start to pick up the rhythm, backing her up against the wall again, needing it for leverage so I can pump into her harder.

  One hand cradles her neck. The other wraps around her waist. Her legs coil around me tighter, gripping my hips as she starts to slip. Our chests are crushed together, but I want to see more of her. I use my hand on her neck to tug her off me, gently enough that she doesn’t hit the tile. My eyes skate over her. She’s pink and flushed and dripping wet. I lose my mind thrusting into her, and her whimpers escape as if she can barely contain them.

  I let go of her neck and drop my hand between her legs. It drives her crazy. The gentle strokes of my finger have her dragging in quick, ragged breaths. She’s so close, wrapping tight around me, arching her back and leaning her head against the tile. She releases a sharp cry and then I feel her splitting apart, wave after wave of pleasure pulsing through her, and I feel every bit of it.

  I want to follow right after her. My body is begging for release, but I can’t end this. I can’t leave the warm shower and wake up to all that’s waiting for us outside the confines of this glass. So I drag it out, kiss her harder, keep my hand between her legs, and continue like that until she’s utterly spent, relaxing in my arms as if she’s about to slip out of my hold. Her eyes flick open and her expression is unguarded and vulnerable. I pull back to get a good look at her, my eyes dragging down her body as I thrust once…twice. Then, with a heavy groan, I give up the battle to stave off release another moment longer. She wraps herself tight around me as I come, waiting for me to say something after my thrusts stop and our heavy breathing overtakes the sound of the shower.

  Gently, I set her down, making sure she has her footing before I reach for the body wash. I don’t try to meet her eyes or force her into any conversation as I pump gel onto my hand and use it to lather her up. I rush, and it’s out of necessity. Round one could turn into round two if I’m not careful, and I can already tell Maddie is exhausted. After I’ve washed us both off, I tell her to wait and step out to retrieve two towels. After passing her the first one, I use the second to dry off my hair then wrap it around my hips.

  “Aiden.”

  That one word is a warning, and I don’t ignore it.

  I know by her tone, by the slightly unsettled shake of her voice, that what she has to say might not make me all that happy, so I don’t let her continue.

  If she’s going to pick up fighting right where we left off, we can do it in the morning.

  I need this night more than she realizes, brushing her teeth beside me, slipping into her pajamas and attempting to sneak off to her own room before I yank her back toward me and walk us back to my bed. I don’t have any nefarious plans for her. I just need her body next to mine underneath the blankets, her knee bumping my thigh, my hand on the dip of her waist as I tug her closer to me.

  I kiss her hair and I tell her to close her eyes. I know her mind is whirling. I know she has a million questions she wants to ask, but it’s been a long day and I’ve got everything I want in this bed with me. I don’t want it ruined.

  Chapter Twenty

  Maddie

  “Merry Christmas.”

  Those are the first words I hear when I wake up the next morning, blinking my eyes open and turning my head to see Aiden sitting on the edge of his bed. He’s wearing black pajama bottoms and no shirt. His hair is ruffled and messy, and I can’t keep my mouth from dropping open just a little. It’s the early morning sun filtering in through the window, catching on half of his face. Golden light bathes him and my heart loses the battle it’s been waging for what feels like a thousand years.

  I think I could live this life and the next life and another after that and I’d always love Aiden. Running from it is futile. Attempting to push him away has only landed me in ridiculous, embarrassing situations.

  He hitches up one side of his mouth, waiting for me to make a move or say something or at least blink twice if I still have brain function. I gather the sheet around my chest and push to sit up against the headrest.

  I smell coffee—blissful, blissful coffee—and then I spot the spare mug on his nightstand. Right beside a pile of gifts.

  At first, I’m confused.

  Then I remember what he said when he woke me up.

  My eyes widen and meet his. “Are those for me?”

  He glances down at them and shrugs. “Yeah. I know it’s too many, but they weren’t all supposed to be Christmas gifts.” He retrieves the one that’s on top. “This one I got in Paris on my first assignment. I was planning on giving it to you the next time I saw you, but…”

  But then everything happened.

  I take the present from him and aim a teasing smile his way. “Well technically you did give it to me the next time you saw me.”

  He chuckles under his breath and shakes his head.

  I focus down on the wrapping paper. It’s dark navy and wrinkled as hell. A corner is already torn so I start there, tugging back the paper to reveal a small watercolor painting. I recognize the aerial view of Paris right away even though the brushstrokes are loose and impressionistic.

  “I saw an artist on the street, creating these,” Aiden tells me as I continue to look at the painting.

  “It was only my third day there and I was so homesick I couldn’t stand it. I was eating lunch outside, trying
to find a bench available along the Seine, and I found one eventually, right behind this artist and his easel. He worked the whole time I ate and it made me feel…I guess it made me feel less alone.”

  “So you bought a painting from him.”

  “For you. After all, you were the reason I was so sad.”

  I glance up at him in surprise.

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, you. Of course, you, Maddie. I left for Paris after that phone call we had while I was at the airport and it felt like the world’s hardest breakup, like you and I were done before we even got started.”

  I remember feeling the same way. Even now, I don’t have to dig deep to reach the well of emotions. They’re still right there, under the surface.

  “It’s beautiful,” I tell him, feeling slightly embarrassed at how choked up I sound.

  “Maddie.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Can you look at me for a second?”

  Do I really have to?

  I glance up and nearly have to squint to keep myself from toppling off the bed. It never gets easier—looking right at him, trying to shield the love in my eyes. It probably pours out of me in other ways, cloying the air around us. He knows. He has to know.

  “I leave to go back to New York tomorrow.”

  Those have to be the most painful words in the English language. There is no truth to the childhood rhyme about sticks and stones breaking bones and words never hurting. Words hurt the most. I would take a good stoning over the declaration that Aiden is leaving me again. Again. Again. Here we are again.

  I suddenly need air, mouthfuls of it. I need out of this room before all the love I’ve bottled up comes bursting out of me in a primal wail.

  I’m up and moving, aware a second too late that I’m still naked from last night. I yank the sheet off the bed, trying to wrap it around myself, but those people in movies must be better at this than I am, because it just gets tangled and my boobs are still out there for the world to see.

  I curse under my breath and yank the sheet again, trying to dislodge it from the mattress once and for all.

  I’m aware of Aiden repeating my name, trying to get through to me, but I’m on a mission.

  His hand touches my arm and I jump away from him, holding up my palm as if to say, Don’t come any closer, buddy.

  “Can you stop for one second? I want you to come with me to New York. I want us to be together.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t act so surprised. Of course I want us to be together. I want you to be my girlfriend. My partner, Maddie. Come to New York with me.”

  Right then, a fist knocks softly on the door. “Aiden? Are you awake? I think we should talk.”

  It’s James.

  “Not a good time!” Aiden shouts back.

  The doorknob starts to turn and I scream, scrambling with the sheet tangled around my legs so I can make it to the bathroom before James fully opens the door.

  Aiden’s faster than I am, though. He makes it to the door in time to slam it closed before James sees anything.

  “Not now, you idiot!”

  “You behaved like a lunatic last night! We need to talk.”

  “Not. Now.”

  “Fine. Meet me in the kitchen.”

  I don’t hear the rest of their conversation because I’m rushing back to my room. There, sitting on the edge of my bed, is my sister with her arms crossed.

  Great. Just fucking great.

  “I hope you’re happy” is the first thing she says to me.

  If Jolie and James were our parents, we’d be grounded. The gist of the very long talk I have to endure is that she’s very disappointed in the decisions I made last night and she expects better of me and wants me to realize that my actions reflect back on her.

  OH GOOD GRIEF. Just get out of my room so I can get dressed and get some coffee and process the fact that Aiden asked me to move to freaking New York City with him.

  I tune into her long diatribe again when she says, “I’d like you to call the restaurant today and apologize.”

  Jolie, I’d like you to exit stage left, but we can’t always get what we want.

  I placate her with lots of nodding and deferential hums of agreement before she finally exhausts herself and leaves me alone.

  I have my first real moment to process how I feel and…I have no clue. None whatsoever. My stomach is tight with anxiety, but I can’t forget that little painting Aiden gifted me a moment ago. It’s Christmas morning and I woke up next to Aiden. Santa really delivered this year.

  I pull out red gingham pajamas from my suitcase and some cozy socks. There’s a knock from the bathroom door, and I turn to see Aiden standing in the doorframe, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

  “We’re in trouble,” he teases.

  I feign worry. “We’re definitely getting coal in our stockings this year.”

  “Worse, probably. James is ‘deeply disappointed in me’.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “Yeah, I bet they didn’t even leave us any breakfast.”

  “We can make our own.”

  “Let’s finish our talk later, okay?”

  I nod in agreement, glad he’s not pushing the subject right now.

  The day isn’t all that bad. Sure, Jolie and James are a little standoffish in the morning, but I wear them down with lots and lots of baked goods.

  “Has anyone seen the sugar?!”

  “You just had it,” my sister says from the couch. It’s early evening and everyone is piled in the living room watching Christmas movies. I’m in the kitchen and I have no plans to leave. I’ve got a gingerbread house cooking in the oven. On the cooling rack, there are two dozen cranberry and white chocolate cookies. I’ve got a cake going in the mixer and some eggnog heating up on the stove. The house smells like the aftermath of a candle factory explosion.

  “How am I supposed to make sugar cookies without sugar?!”

  “Do we need sugar cookies?” my sister asks gently.

  I pop up from where I’ve been rooting through the bottom cupboards and shoot her an annoyed glare.

  “It’s Christmas, Jolie.”

  The sentiment is clear: Stop being a Grinch!

  Baking has mostly kept my mind off of Aiden’s invitation. When he joins me in the kitchen every now and then, he doesn’t try to bring it up again, but it still sits heavy in my mind.

  Move to New York City for Aiden?

  Could I really do that?

  I hate how fast the day goes, and it’s made all the faster because of Aiden’s early morning flight out of Denver. He has to get up at 4:30 AM so he can make the drive from Vail and get to the airport on time. That night, I expect him to turn in early, but he stays on the couch, cuddled up beside me under the blanket as we finish watching It’s a Wonderful Life.

  The lights are low in the kitchen. James and Jolie already went to sleep a while ago, so it’s just us, alone on the couch as snow falls outside.

  I’ve been so happy up until this moment, full of Christmas spirit as we spent the day building snowmen and eating, watching movies and eating, and constructing a gingerbread house then eating that too.

  But now, there’s no escaping what will happen tomorrow.

  Aiden’s leaving, and I don’t know what’s going to happen after that.

  The credits roll on the movie, and I don’t move a muscle. I want to turn back time and relive the day together. I don’t want him to move from his spot beside me.

  I glance over and see him staring down at where our hands are linked.

  “Aren’t you tired?” I ask.

  “Not really.”

  His voice sounds far away.

  “You’ll be tired in the morning.”

  “Maybe.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  He lets his head fall back against the couch and he stares up at the ceiling.

  “I looked at my work calendar while you were baking earlier.”

  “Oh?”


  “I’ll be traveling for the next five weeks. I have a clear night or two in my schedule where I’ll be back in New York, but that’s it.”

  “Wow. That’s…”

  “We can still make this work,” he says, hurrying to cut me off.

  “Of course. I wasn’t going to say otherwise.”

  “So you’re not going to run away from me again?”

  “No.”

  He relaxes against the couch. “We can talk on the phone while I’m away.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And there’s mail.”

  I can’t help but smile. “You’re going to send me postcards?”

  “Every day if you want me to.”

  I lean over and kiss him. It was meant to just be a soft peck, but Aiden loops his hands in my hair and keeps me pressed against him as he kisses me again. I shift toward him and drag my hand up his shirt. He gathers me against him and we start to tilt back on the couch with me on top of him. His hands start to roam. First to my back, then to the bottom of my shirt. He tugs the material up, dragging his fingers up my spine. Then, slowly, he works his hands around to my front, cupping my breasts as I release a soft moan.

  We don’t stay there on the couch.

  Aiden’s the one who thinks better of it, tugging me after him down the hall, pushing open his bedroom door so we can shuffle toward his bed, clothes getting yanked off and tossed aside as we go. We should spend the night configuring our schedules, planning a future, but there’s no talking. In fact, our mouths are only in use for other things.

  I think I stir awake when Aiden kisses my cheek in the wee hours of the morning, but then it only seems like a hazy dream.

  When I wake up for good and glance over, Aiden’s not lying on his half of the bed. He’s already on a flight back to New York.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Maddie

  “Where is your head this morning? Hell-o. Earth to Maddie.”

  I jerk out of my reverie, more than a little embarrassed that Elise caught me at a bad moment. Though, to be fair, it’s not all that hard to find me in one these days. Bad moments abound during my first week back at work after the holiday break.