Page 15 of Under the Weatherman
He managed to keep an even rhythm, like he was pacing himself, touching me, kissing me, making this moment last, but the desire built, and I wanted more. He wanted more, moving faster, faster, reaching for infinity.
Our kisses became an afterthought. Lips brushing, lips forgotten.
My head fell back, and I lifted my knees so he could go deeper. All decorum deserted me as I crossed my ankles over his tail bone and begged him to fuck me harder, faster, getting closer and closer to nirvana just from hearing him pant.
“I should slow down. Oh, oh shit.” He slowed, but clearly too late.
I moaned in frustration. I’d been right there.
My moan turned into a prolongedoooh, yeswhen he dropped down between my legs, laid his hands on my inner thighs, and ran his tongue along my clit, sliding a finger inside me, then two, finding the exact spot he’d been hitting before. I opened my eyes, and the sight of that pretty, pretty boy doing dirty things brought me to the edge. And then his thumb circled the space between his tongue and his fingers, and I came almost instantly with a hard spasm, riding out a wave of cresting endorphin bombs that went on forever.
I floated in a cloud of good feels, no words, and a blank mind. Money couldn’t buy this bliss.
“Oh, my fuck,” I sighed, tightening my thighs against him.
Evan crawled up beside me and collapsed, head on pillow, relaxing with a profound exhale. He laid a hand across my stomach, and by the weight alone, I could tell his muscles had worn out from the expenditure. He kissed my shoulder. “All good?”
“So good.”
I’d felt the earth move. I’d felt the sky tumbling down. But I couldn’t help wonder, how much better it would be if Evan and I weren’t strangers? I longed to really know someone, to understand what they wanted, to learn and grow together until language was no longer necessary. A transparent communication of souls.
Oh, shit, I was thinking about Rousseau again.
I almost snorted at my own ridiculous tendency to over-analyze even a fling, and then my heart squeezed as I remembered that thiswasjust a fling and he’d be leaving. The freaking one-night-stand roller coaster of emotions had struck again.
I nestled into his chest, breathing in the smell of him. I could have curled up and drifted off in complete comfort, but he sat up on his elbow. “Do you want some water? Or do you want to sleep?”
Sleep sounded delicious, but I was keenly aware of the time slipping away. I rolled off my side of the bed and grabbed a robe, pulling it on before fetching two glasses of water from the kitchen.
When I returned, he was pulling on his boxers. Was he leaving?
I sat on the bed. “What time’s your flight?”
“In the afternoon.” He settled back beside me, pillow propped behind him.
“Maybe we should talk about this?”
He gave me a coy smile. “What happened to living in the moment.”
“Oh.” I frowned. “If that’s what you want.”
He shook his head. “That’s what you wanted. I’m along for whatever.”
“Whatever, huh?” I looked down at my water and spun the glass a little, watching the ripples level out, like my life would in a few hours.
He laid his hand on my knee. “Don’t take that the wrong way. I mean it. I’m up for whatever you want.”
“You don’t care?”
He didn’t answer right away. He sipped on his water and seemed to think. I waited, weighing my own feelings. I was historically shit at asking for what I wanted. WhatdidI want?
Finally, he took a breath and started. “Look. I’m in a complicated place in my life. I’d be lying if I told you that I’d be content with a one-night stand with you, but I don’t really know what else I can offer right now. I could ask you to wait and trust that I’ll be ready for something more serious in a short time.” He exhaled. “But I don’t know if that’s even what you want, so how could I ask that of you? And I can’t promise that my situation will be less complicated any time soon.”
I hated to ask, but I had to. “You’re really not married?”
He blanched. “No. Nothing like that. It’s just my job situation and the distance.” He’d taken my free hand at some point and caressed my thumb. “Can you understand?”
I could. I didn’t like it, but it made sense and it sounded grownup and honest. “So when I said, live in the moment?”
