I gape, choked for a response. He wants to sleep with me? “I’m not going to use you like I do these other guys,” I murmur.
“Goddammit, Lily,” he curses. “I am standing here telling you that I want to have sex with you, and you still can’t accept it. Was it that terrible the first time, is that it?”
“What? No…” The first time was wrong, impetuous and rushed. Back then, we were just kids trying to make each other feel better. If we have a second time together, I don’t want it to be like that. “You shouldn’t have sex with me just because I’m withdrawing. We’re friends,” I tell him. “You’re not going to be another name on my list of guys for the week. Okay?”
His nose flares, breathing heavily. And he starts closing the distance between us.
“Lo,” I warn.
“Have you ever thought about it?”
I watch his feet near, my pulse racing.
“Have you ever thought about me inside you?”
I almost stumble back, but he hooks an arm around my waist.
“Have you ever thought about us together?”
I can hardly breathe. “Together?”
“Where I don’t share you with any other man.”
All the time. “Yes.” I keep expecting to wake up.
“If I could be enough to fill you, would you let me?”
I look at him. “Yes.”
“Then let me try,” he says, his hand cupping my face. “Let me try to be enough for you.”
“That’s a big undertaking,” I tell him, my body swelling.
His lips brush mine as he whispers. “I’m big enough to take it.” Oh… “Let me. Help you.” He places my palm over his swim trunks, right on his crotch. Yes.
“I didn’t know you wanted to…you never said anything,” I stumble. My lungs struggle for air, three years of tension bursting.
With a shuffled step, he draws me even closer and then guides me backwards to the bed. “How the hell could you not know?”
“I’m dirty,” I refute, hot tears brimming. “You don’t want me.”
His face twists in pain. “I don’t think that. Neither should you.” His lips graze my neck and then find my ear. “Lil, I want you to ask me. I need you to.”
He presses his forehead to my temple, gently edging me closer to the mattress, his hands tight on my hips. I continue to struggle for breath. I know what he wants now.
He wants this to be real.
So do I.
“Help me,” I say, breathlessly.
He grips the back of my neck, hard, plunging his tongue in my mouth. My legs hit the mattress, and my back slams into the bed. He lifts me up, all while keeping his lips hungrily on mine.
Bottles clatter to the floor, and Lo doesn’t pull away to retrieve them. His hand kneads my breast, my top coming off. I grip his bare back, clutching for support. I try to flip over so I can be on top, but he refuses my demands, keeping my body trapped beneath his weight.
I succumb to his hardness and the way his rough movements dominate my bones. He lifts my leg around his hip but keeps my other on the bed.
I usually take control, pouncing on my prey, but here, every action has equal intensity. My fingers run through his soft hair, and his mouth sucks on my nipple, his tongue swirling around while I buck against him. Oh…
“Lo,” I moan. I can’t do this much longer. He’s too far away. There’s too much distance. “Closer.”
He pulls my arms above my head, stretching me, and I cry out, my toes curling. “I need you. Please…ahh…” I’m in my zone.
He sheds his shorts, and I try to climb on him again, but he returns to my arms, pulling them once again. He stares deeply into my eyes, his body melding perfectly into mine. “I’m not one of your conquests,” he says in a throaty voice. “I know what you want, and you don’t need to take it. I can give it to you.”
His fingers slide beneath my bikini bottoms, finding the sensitive place. They slip in and out quickly—so fast. I shudder and moan and try to speak but words don’t come. I’ve reverted to caveman talk in grunts and groans and shrieks.
“Stay still,” he orders, stepping off the bed, which rises without his weight. He walks across the room, completely naked, and fishes out a few condoms from his suitcase. I drink in his whole body. Even his cock…wow. That has definitely grown since the last I saw it.
He rips open the condom, climbing back on the bed. Unbearable seconds tick by, and I squirm, impatient.
He smiles and kisses me again, long and hard. Ah…I shudder. And then he fills me. His hips grind against mine, and he presses down with each thrust, getting as close as possible. I shut my eyes and turn my head, a natural reaction as I float away with the overwhelming sensation.
He grips my chin, still moving against me, and turns my face to his. “Look at me.”
My eyes snap open, and his words send my body in a tailspin. I cry out. “Lo…” I grip his back tightly for support. “More.”
He pumps, and his amber eyes stay on mine, driving in and out. In and out. Deeper and deeper. I am lost to his scotch-colored irises. To the way he stares into me. No one has ever looked at me like this.
Everything bursts.
I’m flying into the most blissful feeling in the world.
I never want to come down.
Chapter Fifteen
Most nights, I pass out after sex, willing on sleep to avoid any communication with the other guy. As this bliss seeps away, I can’t close my eyes. My head spins from the event, desperately trying to quantify what just happened.
Lo silently climbs off the bed and tugs on a pair of black boxer-briefs over his bare ass. He rescues a fallen bottle of bourbon and a glass from the counter. I tighten the navy sheets to my chest, and he hops on the bed, the mattress bucking underneath me.
More gently, he takes a seat at the foot.
He wants to talk. I suppose I do too. I think it may be where we went wrong the first time.
“Thanks,” I say first.
His eyes flicker from the dark liquid to me. “I didn’t do it all for you, you know?”
“I know.”
He licks his lips. “Where is your head at?”
“I’m confused,” I say truthfully. “I think I’ve been confused for a long time. I haven’t known if you’ve been playing into our lie or if you really mean to touch me the way you do.” Saying that feels really good.
He looks at me deeply. “I’ve wanted to have sex with you again since the first time,” he admits. “But you had all these rules, and I didn’t want to be the clichéd horny guy trying to abuse your addiction. So I was waiting for you to ask me to do it again.”
I frown. Why didn’t I? “I thought it was part of the lie. I thought you were just pretending.” How could I know that he wanted more?
His jaw locks and he shakes his head. “I’ve never pretended, Lil. We’ve been together, even if you thought it was some fucking lie. We just weren’t having sex.” He stares at his glass. “On bad days, I’d touch you more than I should, I admit. Like when Daisy spent the night, but I was hoping you’d finally open your eyes and realize that I was there. You didn’t have to suffer or go be fulfilled by some other guy. I was right in front of you.”
“I just thought you were teasing me.”
He nods. “I know. It didn’t work how I planned.” He swishes the alcohol in his glass, staring. “I understand your addiction, and I’m only bothered by the other guys when I tempt you to that place. I blame myself for making you aroused, hoping that you’ll finish with me. But you never do, and in the end, some lucky bastard gets what I want. I had everything with you, the good and bad parts of a real relationship, except the sex.” He inhales deeply. “I wanted it, but on your terms.”
“You’ve been waiting around for six years,” I say, staring off. Six years of miscommunication. One of us could have opened up. Instead we let the tension build between us, growing a lie.
“The worst part was hearing you.” He sh
akes his head. “You know, I’d stay awake, listening to you, wondering if your cries would turn terrified, wondering if some guy decided to take advantage or hurt you. But I can’t…” He pauses on the words.
But I know. “You can’t tell me to stop.” Because it’s hypocritical. He won’t quit drinking, not for me, not for anything.
“Yeah.” He inspects me from a distance, taking in my body language after sex. “How was it for you?”
Amazing. “Do you want a rating or something?” I try to lighten the mood.
His face sharpens, all hard lines, all ice, all Loren Hale. “I’m open to criticism.” He finishes off his drink.
I can’t rate him. He’s literally not quantifiable on any chart. I have never trusted someone to take control and to do it so passionately. “You’re enough,” I tell him, my voice small, “but I can’t lie to you. I worry that in the future, you won’t be. And then what? I’ve never been committed to one guy, Lo. For you, I’d try, but…what if I fail?”
“You’ll still be having sex,” he says. “You’ll just be having crazy, mind-numbing sex with me. Every day. On your terms. And if you slip up, it’s okay.”
“No,” I immediately refute. “No, it’s not. If we’re together for real, I can’t cheat on you. That’s not okay.” I realize I have to try. No matter what, I have to try to make this work and to find everything I need within Lo. I think it’s possible, but it may be hard sometimes. “I’m going to need you, do you understand?”
Lo nods. “Of course, Lil.”
“So on the days that you drink yourself to sleep before eight o’clock, what am I supposed to do?”
“You’re making a compromise, and it’s only fair that I do the same. We’ll work out our schedules.” He rests his hand on my ankle, sending shivers up my spine. “I want to love you more than I love this”—he waves his bottle—“and I don’t know how else to do it unless there’s something to lose.” The stakes have become much greater. If I fail, that means I cheat on him. If he fails, that means he may drive me to cheat. Either way, we’ll be alone and empty. We’ve never entertained the idea of being together, in part because we were never ready to make small sacrifices, like less drinking, no more one-night stands. I’ll need to find the thrill elsewhere.
Three years later and drowning in lies, we’re suddenly prepared to lose everything for the chance at something real.
“So this is it then.” I skim his features, the firmness of his chest, the darkness in his expression, and the wanting in his eyes. “We wake up tomorrow and become an actual couple. No pretenses. I stay monogamous to you, and you cut back on the drinking to help me. Are you sure you want to do this? There’s no going back. If we break up…” Everything will change.
“Lily.” He sets his glass aside and scoots closer. He cups my face in his hands. His closeness still makes my heart flutter like I’ve never been touched by him before. That’s a good sign. “We’re terrible at so many things—remembering important dates, college, making friends—but the one thing we’ve always been halfway decent at is being together. We owe it to ourselves to try.”
“Okay,” I say in a small breath.
His smile grows and he kisses me hard, cementing our new deal—or breaking our old one. He directs my back into the nautical comforter, and I happily wrap my arms around him, holding on tight, and never letting go.
Chapter Sixteen
The rest of the trip, I no longer question the validity when Lo reaches out for my hand or when he slips his arm around my waist. It’s all one-hundred percent, real affection that I can enjoy without constant confusion.
Back in Philadelphia, the clouds replace the sun and the most tropical it gets here are the little umbrellas in fruity drinks. Reality sets in along with the fall season, exams looming as close as the Christmas Charity Gala. Now that I’m back to the land of male bodies, I try to train my mind on Lo and no one else. Not the hot dog vendor on the street or the lawyers entering and exiting the apartment complex.
I can’t cheat on Lo, but sometimes the cannots turn into maybes which become okays. And I’m at a loss of how to control that kind of cascade once it begins. Good thing economics steals my thoughts off Lo and even sex.
I slam my head against the fat textbook. “Die, numbers, die.”
Alcohol bottles clink in the kitchen, a familiar sound that now drives me insane. I blame college. “Lo,” I call from the living room. “Have you done this homework yet? Can you help me?” I must be desperate if I’m requesting his support.
He laughs but doesn’t bother to answer me. Just lovely. I’m going to fail. Like I need another reason for my parents to hound me. The world lies to you. They say that you become this independent, self-sufficient creature when you turn eighteen, severing the familial ties once you enter collegiate society. But in our economy, nine times out of ten, you’re financially dependent on them until you join the real workforce. Even me—daughter of a multi-billionaire tycoon—has to rely on family for support. There’s something vitally wrong with this system, and I don’t have to be fucking good at economics to know it.
I bite my fingernails to the beds and smack my book closed. I watch Lo lean two hands on the counter, his shirt riding up and his eyes narrowed at his computer screen. He clicks some buttons, staring intently at a webpage.
I start to picture him, walking towards me, eyeing me the way he did while at sea. He knows me well enough to take the lead. And he does, willingly, spreading my legs open…
Lo straightens up and shuts the laptop, his movement waking me from my fantasy. Okay, I can’t concentrate on profit margins when all I can think about is something a little more nefarious.
Quietly, I pad over to the kitchen where Lo mixes a drink. He cuts back on quantity, not quality. Bourbon and whiskey, his favorite dark-colored liquors, spread across the counters in droves.
I hover by the fruit bowl and lamely act like I’m examining the apples. In the past two weeks since we’ve been back in the city, I haven’t figured out how to approach Lo without feeling weird. I’m not the type to come out and say: Hey, Lo, can you please sleep with me? The thought of uttering those words sends red spots to my skin. Doing it with strangers is different. I never have to see them again, and I rarely use words. I give them a deep, sultry look, and they follow me wherever I go. Using that Venus fly trap technique with Lo feels cheap and overwrought. So instead, I stand here awkwardly.
I don’t want to ask for sex like I’m ordering something from a bar. Why can’t this be easier?
I try to avoid the uncomfortable conversation with a question. “You do realize we have a test in a week? Are you going to even study?”
“I’ll wing it.” Relaxed, he sips his drink and leans his elbows on the counter. He tilts his head, watching me closely.
Maybe that was a bad question to ask. Now I feel nervous for the both of us.
About this time, I’d be sporting a glittery tank top and heading for a club, even if it’s only the evening. Now that I’m monogamous, I only have one option, and he happens to be fulfilling his own obsession by downing a bottle of bourbon.
Should I even pull him away from that? Does it make me the needy, selfish person in the relationship?
“Lily.”
His voice cuts into my thoughts. I stop pacing. Holy shit, when did I start pacing?
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.” I go back to the fruit.
“You seem awfully fascinated by those apples.”
“Yep.”
“Okay, enough.” He sets down his glass and edges close to me. “Ever since we returned from the Bahamas, you’ve been nervous and jittery whenever you obviously need sex. You do realize you used to tell me when and where you would have sex every night?”
“That was before it was with you,” I defend.
“So this should be easier,” he says, perplexed.
“It’s not. I don’t like asking for it. The guys I bed want to have sex with me.” I cringe. T
hat didn’t come out right. “What I mean is,” I say hurriedly as my arms flush, “they’re actively looking for a hook up too. Not relaxing on the couch or surfing the internet. I don’t want this to be a chore or for my problems to invade your personal life.”
“I assure you, having sex is not a chore, especially not with you. As for your problems, well, that’s what being in a relationship is about, Lil. Your problem is now my problem. In fact, it’s almost always been my problem. Now I just get the reward instead of watching some douchebag take it.”
“But you don’t need me to drink. You don’t have to ask me to fix a whiskey sour. Your addiction doesn’t infiltrate my life like mine does yours.”
“Yes it does, just in other ways. And do you really think I walked into this blind?” He twirls a piece of my hair in his finger. “I know how much sex you have. I know that when you’re not having it, you’re browsing porn. I’m not an idiot, Lil. I’ve been your best friend for years, and I haven’t lost that knowledge now that I’m your boyfriend.”
He makes solid points. “Okay, but I still feel weird asking for it.”
Lo hooks his fingers in the waist of my jeans, eyeing the sliver of skin that peeks beneath my blouse. “Then don’t,” he tells me, his hand spindling across the small of my back. “If you want me to choose when we do it, I can. But I didn’t want to take that from you.”
His hand rises up my spine and he skillfully unclasps my bra. I stagger back in surprise, heat blooming on every part of me. He hooks his arm underneath mine, putting me in a lock so I can’t squirm away. Our bodies touch from top to bottom, his hard chest against my soft. I can barely breathe.
Lo presses his lips to my temple and then he whispers, “Do you trust me?”
I swallow hard, trying to focus. Do I trust him? “Yes,” I say. “But…you can’t wait too long.” My words tumble out, more frantic than I anticipated. “It has to be more than two times and spaced out. When I get stressed, I may need more and—”
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