Page 57 of No One But Us

His mouth covers mine, firm and demanding and certain. His teeth graze my lip and I open to him on a gasp, meeting his tongue, capturing the anguished sound he makes. He touches me as if he needs too many things at once, his hands everywhere—my hair, my hips, my legs.

There have been so many false starts with us that I should question this, stop him and ensure that this isn’t one more foray into something he plans to end. But I don’t. I can’t. I’ve waited too long, and I need these things—his warmth and the pressure of his chest against mine and the greedy noises he makes while he devours my mouth.

I barely register our movement—across the yard, through the house—until I am in his room, falling back on the bed. He climbs over me, supporting his weight but not so much that I can’t still feel the solidity, the heat of him, above me.

He rests his forehead against mine, and his voice is both apologetic and determined at once. “Elle, there are two things I have to tell you before this...before anything happens. First, we need to keep this quiet, okay? From my parents and Ginny especially. They would never accept this.”

I swallow. “Why?”

“My mom is going through some stuff, and Ginny is too. It’s hard to explain. They’re fragile right now, and I can’t upset the balance any more than I already have.”

I guess I understand what he’s saying, but I can’t say I love the fact that James dating me would so unpalatable to his entire family.

“What’s the second thing?”

“That it can’t be more than this. No matter how badly I wish it were otherwise.”

“Because of my age?”

He hesitates. “Yeah, that’s part of it. But also, I’m leaving. I’m waiting on the formal offer, but the FBI actually has an office in Paris, and since I’m fluent in French, that’s where they want me. I just...I can’t afford complications.”

I could continue to ask questions, but the truth is nothing he is going to tell me will change the fact that I want this. And there’s this small, blindly optimistic voice inside me insisting I’ve got a month to change his mind, no matter what his hang-up about it is.

And that’s the part of me that wins.

He lowers his head, and I stop thinking entirely. All I know is him, the weight of him, the smell of his soap and the rasp of his scruff against my skin, the heat of him between us, resting hard against my abdomen. His mouth moving to my ear, to my neck, his fingers brushing against my collarbone, sliding my dress down, a small groan in his throat when he does it.

His hands move over me as he returns to my mouth, the small flicker of his tongue making me arch, wrapping my legs tight around his waist to feel him grow harder and heavier as his fingers glide over my calf.

“Jesus Christ, it pisses me off thinking about you sitting in that guy’s lap. Especially dressed like this.”

I would laugh, but there is no time. He grabs my hips and pulls me toward him so there’s no space between us, and then he is cradling my neck and kissing me so hard that his words are driven from my head.

My dress slides up, and his fingers brush my inner thigh. His touch is light, but enough to make me feel that things can’t move fast enough, like the ten seconds it would take for him to be inside me is ten seconds too many.

“Elle… “ he begins, and then the sound of the front door opening and slamming makes both of us freeze. We stare at each other with similar degrees of panic, listening to the clip of Ginny’s heels coming down the hall.

“James?” she calls. His door is wide open. Without a second to spare we throw off our shock and scramble from the bed.

I can play this off, but judging by the way his shorts are tented, he cannot.

“Run to the bathroom,” I say.

She gets to James’ doorway mere seconds after he’s shut the door behind him.

“What the hell happened? I turn away for one second, and you’ve both left the party.”

I tug at my dress nervously. “He’s in the bathroom. I think he’s sick.”

She knocks on the bathroom door. “James? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

She turns to me. “What happened to you and that med student?”

“Nothing,” I say. “I wasn’t feeling well, so I took off.”

“Something must be going around,” she sighs. “Well, go to bed. Let me know if you need anything.”