Page 86 of The Love We Deny
“That’s not funny,” I say, even though I can’t help but let out a wet laugh.
“It’s a little bit funny.”
I pull back to look at him, and he pushes the hair sticking to my face back, almost gently, and I feel my heart fill up so much I think it might burst. “You didn’t ruin my birthday.”
The look on his face says he doesn’t believe me, so I continue. “I sort of ruined it myself by being a big baby about it. I know you’re a dick and I still like you, so—”
“I don’t want you to think I’m a dick anymore,” he interrupts, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he smiles. “So I’ll make it up to you. We can do whatever you want for the rest of your birthday. I’ll even sit through one of your documentaries.”
“The one about the rainforest?” I ask, perking up. I’ve been trying to get him to watch it for ages.
“Oh, God.” He closes his eyes, looking up to the ceiling. “Fine. Yes.” I tug him toward the couch by his hand, while he grumbles behind me, “I should have left when I had the chance.”
Chapter 21
When the documentary ends, we don’t get up right away. Over the last hour and a half, I’ve ended up cuddled into him. My arm across his stomach with my head resting on his chest. It might have been a thing at first, but after the day we’ve had, I think we both need it.
“Well?” I ask, looking up at him from my spot.
“Actually not as bad as I thought it’d be.”
“I’ve been telling you!”
“Your nerd is rubbing off on me.” He shifts, trying to put distance between us, shoving me. “Get away!”
I shove back, and before I know it, we’re kissing, and his hand slides into my hair and I go with it, melting into him. It’s different from the other times we’ve kissed, desperate and full of everything we weren’t saying. This time, it feels honest. Caring almost, the way he holds my head and sucks my lip between his before pulling back.
“Do you want to come upstairs?” I ask, through deep breaths.
This time, instead of an automatic yes, he pauses, searching my face. “You’re not still mad?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m not still mad.”
He holds my gaze, like maybe he doesn’t believe me. But then the corner of his mouth turns up to form the smirk I’ve begun to appreciate more than I ever thought possible. “If I’d known all ittook was watching a nature documentary, I would’ve done this months ago.”
I open my mouth to tell him that’s absurd, but he kisses me again before I can say anything.
We make it upstairs very slowly, stopping to kiss every other step. When we get the door open, he walks me into the room, his hands grabbing the hem of my t-shirt, pulling back finally to get it over my head.
“Lie down,” he says, nodding toward the bed. “On your stomach.”
I move too fast for my desperation to be subtle, settling on my stomach, and then, because he can’t help himself, he says, “Ass up.”
I turn to look at him, my eyebrows furrowed. “Is that necessary—” But before I can finish my question, I feel an open-handed slap over my pajama pants, the sound echoing through the room.
“Will!” I shout, scandalized that he wouldactuallydo that.
He laughs out loud, throwing his head back, clutching his chest, and I feel myself smiling into the pillow at his happiness.
Without asking again, he grabs my hips, placing me where he wants. And even if it feels humiliating, I’m not thinking about that anymore when I feel his lips on my lower back and his hands grasping the waistband of my pants, not pulling them down yet, resting there.
“Hurry up,” I shift, urging him to keep going.
“You that desperate for me, Doc?” he asks, sliding the fabric down my ass. I hear him exhale behind me, cursing under his breath.
He leans down, kissing along my back, down lower and lower and—
I remember the lube and condoms in the nightstand drawer that I bought for this very occasion. Ignoring his complaints, I sit up, pulling out of his grip and reaching for the drawer.
