Page 20 of Present Tense

“Not a fan.” I shake my head.

“Alas, our first fight.”

I push him down on his bed and climb on top of him. His eyes are so intensely gray-blue they’re almost attacking me with their sexiness. “Should we make up?” I ask coyly.

“My magical member is napping—he hasn’t come that hard in quite a while.” My stomach rumbles, and he can feel it. “And you need food.”

I follow him down the back staircase and into the kitchen. I go to the pantry and grab a box of Ritz crackers I saw earlier. He holds a plate of what appears to be roast beef and the remains of the party cheese platter. I’m eating stale crackers, and he’s putting together a professional spread.

“Was that beef at the party?” I eye it greedily.

“No. Leftover from last night. I can roast, braise, and grill.” We sit down. I’m across the table from him, and I pull my feet up onto the chair.

“So you work exclusively in meat?” He laughs, and I tuck my knees under my chin and cocoon his shirt over them. I pick at the roast. He’s staring at me with a giant glass of water in his hands, leaning back in his chair. “What?”

“You’re even sexy when you eat.”

“I’m ravenous.” I shrug.

“You’re making me hungry.” He disappears under the table and crawls to me. I lean down, swallow a mouthful of brie, and lay my lips on his as he kneels in front of me.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Dining. You keep having your snack, and I’m going to have mine.” And with that, he pulls on my feet until they land on the ground, scoots my ass to the edge of the chair, and spreads my legs. I’m starving, but apparently, food must wait. There’s an orgasm to be had, and I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge.

14

LIAM

I settle across from her and pick at the cheese. She’s glowing, and I did that. I can see her chin is getting a little red from my beard. I’ve had a beard for almost ten years now. Nina said she liked it, but she left. It’s a bit of a shield. Jillien likes it. But again, what does it matter if Jillien Thompson likes it? She lives in Chicago, has a kid, a career, and is leaving in six and a half hours.

I make a pot roast sandwich while she’s in the bathroom. I sit back down at the table when she returns. Instead of going to her chair, she straddles me. Her legs swing behind my back, our parts separated by ridiculous kitty boxers my sister gave me three Christmases ago. It’s the first time they’ve been on my body.

Her arms are around my neck, and we’re sharing the sandwich. All banal, and because of that, it could become erotic very quickly. Anything she does makes things erotic, so I’m not sure why I thought sandwich eating would be any different. She’s so impossibly lovely. I don’t want her to go, but there’s no way for me to tell her that.

Her long eyelashes dip down to the top of her delicate and pronounced cheekbones. Her skin is creamy, but I love knowing she can become golden bronze in the summer. I remember her long tanned legs from my youth. I imagine her at my house in Martha’s Vineyard, her hair summer bleacheds, her stems tropical, and her breasts glistening from the lightest sheen of summer sweat.

Damn. Did I just dream about seeing this girl six months from now? For twenty years, whether I knew it or not, I think I’ve been comparing every woman to Jillien my whole life. But these aren’t things to think about with a one-night stand. She’s better than I dreamed and so much more than I deserve. These thoughts are intense and compelling. I can’t lose her again because I’m scared of saying something. Can I? Have I not progressed past this Jillien-obsessed fifteen-year-old’s maturity level? I wonder if I’d made a move in our teenage years if we’d still be together? But then again, she wouldn’t have Ethan, who seems to be the true love of her life. I don’t know how to deal with that. A son? Like any reasonable attorney, research is my lifeblood. I need to know more about the kid.

15

JILLIEN

“What time is it?”

He glances toward a clock I didn’t see before. “Five-ish.”

I push my lower lip out. I had no idea it was that late. Time flies when you’re orgasm crazy. Five distinct ones, but I’d argue there was a sneaky minor sixth, seventh, and eighth in there somewhere. I hold him a little tighter by wrapping my arms around his neck. His sandwich is between our lips, and I take another bite. He watches my lips as I chew and swallow. I like him watching me, too. I don’t know what to do with this mishmash of thoughts.

“I leave soon,” I announce, trying to gauge if he’s feeling anything like what I’m feeling.

His voice rumbles as he speaks—a sexy rasp that makes me wet. He gently caresses my cheek. “I know and that sucks.”

“It does. And not the good kind of suck.” He grins weakly instead of laughing at my dumb joke. I’m terrified to say I want to see him again. How does that work? But I want to spend more time with him than I have left today. I’ll start there.

I snuggle into him, and we stay in that position, holding each other for a while. I even doze a little on his lap. He kisses the top of my head and strokes my hair a bit, tangling his fingers, then twirling it around them. It’s an act of intimacy I didn’t realize I craved. I feel fulfilled in way too many ways.

After a while, he dreamily says, “What’s on deck for Christmas for you and Ethan?” I sit up. I kiss him gently so we can go back to being in the moment. No past and no future. Then he cocks an eyebrow, looking for an answer.