Chapter Ten
I didn’t fall asleep with JC again until more than a month later.
This time it wasn’t a little catnap, either. I’d dozed off somewhere around two or three, and when I woke up, the sun was streaming in brightly from the terrace.
I sat up with a panicked feeling similar to sleeping through an alarm. “Oh¸ shit.”
JC bolted upright beside me, his hair messy and eyes seemingly bleary. “What is it?” He’d obviously been sleeping, too, which was almost stranger than me having nodded off. One thing I’d learned in our weeks together—the man hadn’t been lying when he said he never slept. Even though he was on a different schedule than me, he always managed to make it through our time together without a hint of tiredness.
I glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Nine-oh-seven. This was the time we usually parted. I’d get dressed, not bothering to shower, then take a cab back to my apartment where I’d fall into bed, exhausted, until it was time to wake for work on Thursday night.
This change in our well-established routine was awkward.
It was also overwhelming. Because despite everything we had done with each other over the last several weeks, waking up together in the morning was at the top of the intimate list. I didn’t smell good and my mouth felt gross. It was too intimate. JC had trained me well that intimate was not in the contract. I pulled the sheet up over my naked body.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
JC rubbed his eyes then stretched his arms over his head while he yawned. “About what?”
God, he still looked delicious in the morning. He could throw on some clothes and walk out of the hotel and look fine.
It pissed me off. Especially since I never woke up well without coffee.
“What are you sorry about?” he asked again, clasping his hands behind his head.
He even smelled good. Musky and manly. Not fair.
“Sleeping,” I said with a sigh. “Dammit. I wasted our whole night.” I fell back on the bed and covered my eyes with my arm. “And now my schedule’s going to be screwed.” I was scheduled to be at work at ten that night, and I wouldn’t get home until six the next morning. It was going to be a long shift.
Plus, I really did feel bad about wasting our night. I enjoyed our time together way too much to not treasure every minute. And I’d slept through practically four hundred and twenty of those minutes.
Dammit!
I groaned at the lost opportunity as I turned to bury my head in the pillow.
“How did I guess you weren’t pleasant in the morning?” JC was as mellow as ever.
“I don’t know. Maybe because I’m never very pleasant.” The weight of the bed shifted as he got up. I peeked to find him heading to the bathroom, completely confident in his nudity. He kept the door open, which was also too intimate, even though he wasn’t visible from my place on the bed. Even though I’d seen and touched his cock plenty of times now.
When he finished, he stood in the doorframe and looked at me. “I don’t think that’s true.” Before I had a chance to form a comeback, he added, “But I’ll order coffee if you’d like.”
“God, yes.”
“I didn’t realize it was so easy to elicit that expression from you. I’ve been doing it wrong.”
I chuckled. “You haven’t been doing anything wrong. Trust me.” Even my aching thigh muscles praised JC’s techniques.
He sat next to me on the bed to dial room service. I forced myself to not freak out. It was…nice, I told myself, having him sit so near, chatting about mundane things, doing ordinary tasks that weren’t at all related to foreplay or midway-through-play.
But it was also unnerving. Confusing. I didn’t know how to react to him. My body was aroused, as it always was when I was near him, yet my desire was background noise rather than the only sound I could hear. The music in the foreground was something new and strange and a little bit wonderful.
JC ordered breakfast along with the coffee then shifted down so he was lying on the bed between the edge and me. He propped his head up with his elbow and brushed my sex-snarled hair out of my face.
Way too intimate.
With as standoffish as he’d always been, why was he letting this cozy morning happen after all these weeks? Was it a test? Or a change of heart? Or was I simply reading things wrong?
“So what will you do for the rest of the day?” he asked. “Stay up?”
I couldn’t think about the rest of my day—I could barely figure out what I’d do now. I turned so I was facing the ceiling, which helped me gain a smidgeon of personal space. “Yeah. I guess so.”
Honestly, I needed to get up, get dressed and get home. Same as always. I’d figure out what next from there.
But now he’d ordered breakfast…
“Take advantage of your morning and maybe just get a quick nap in before you have to go to work,” JC suggested. “Is there anything you were needing to get done?”
No coffee, awkward situation, naked guy next to me—did he really expect me to be able to answer his questions thoughtfully?
Okay, I can do this. I closed my eyes and pinched at the bridge of my nose. So, my day. I’d eat breakfast with him since that’s what he expected. Then do something with my morning. Take a nap later. Go to work.
I opened my eyes again. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea.”
I scooted up so that I was leaning against the headboard and thought out loud. “Tomorrow’s Norma’s birthday. I was thinking it would be nice to make her breakfast before she goes to work. I should go to the Greenmarket and get some fresh veggies to make her an omelet.”
“Who’s Norma?”
“My sister.” I still hadn’t decided what I should give her for a gift. Norma so efficiently took care of herself—it was hard to get her anything she actually wanted.
I’d had one idea that had a low likelihood of coming through. Knowing that any messages I wanted to send to Ben at the hospital had to go through Norma, I’d had to find other methods of reaching him. Fortunately, she’d left his boyfriend’s number on the counter. I’d texted him, told him her birthday was coming up, and let him know how great a present it would be for her to hear from Ben.
It was a selfish present. One I wanted for myself as much as I wanted it for my sister.
But since I’d heard nothing from Eric but a confirmation that he’d received my message, it was looking like I needed something else. So I added, “And I need to get her a present of some sort.”
He nodded, his eyes narrowed as if deciding something. Finally he said, “Sounds boring. I’ll go with you.” Then he stood up and went to the dresser.
I sat up with as much shock as when I’d awoken to sunlight. “You will? You just said it was boring.”
“If I’m there, it won’t be boring. So yes, I’ll go.”
“You really don’t have to.” Then, because that might have sounded rude, I corrected myself. “I mean, don’t you have to work or get a flight back to L.A.?” Immediately, I worried about how that sounded too. Did it seem like I wanted him not to go? Because it wasn’t that. It was just…we’d never done anything together outside of the hotel room, minus the adventure to the piano in the Madison Suite.
He pulled on a pair of boxer briefs before turning back to me. Which was actually a relief. It made the level of intimacy less awkward. “My flight’s tonight,” he said. “And all I usually do on Thursdays lately is catch up on my sleep.”
If I’d known that we could have been catching up together instead of me going home to sleep alone…
Could have been. But not should have been. Sleeping apart was best in a non-committed relationship. Also, not spending entire days with each other outside of the bedroom.
He opened another drawer now and pulled out a pair of jeans. “But since I slept all night with you, I’m now free.”
Huh. I bit the inside of my lip as I digested his sudden interest in outside-the-hotel-room-togetherness. Would it really be that bad? Marcus and I had been friends beyond our sexual relationship. We’d gone to movies, hung out. And then he’d fallen in love with me.
JC, though…he wasn’t the falling in love type. He barely let me in past the outer grounds of his fortress. Which was why it was weird that he wanted to be with me today. Maybe he simply wanted company. Was I overthinking it?
“Would you rather I not go?”
I looked up at JC from the random spot I’d been focusing on while I dazed. That was the real question—did I want him to go with me? The answer was not what I expected. “I’d love to have you. Otherwise, as you said, boring.”
“Awesome.” His grin alone was worth the decision I’d made. It made my belly flutter, but also higher, my chest warmed.
I smiled back, and for once, it wasn’t merely a grin of seduction. Though, I was feeling that too.
“Why don’t you jump in the shower? I bet breakfast will be here by the time you’re out. I’ll grab a shower after.”
“O…kay.” I’d half-expected to shower together. We hadn’t done that yet, but it sure sounded more fun.
JC met me at the side of the bed with the robe. I stood and slipped into it. When I turned around, he tugged me to him.
“I’d suggest we wait for the food then take a shower together,” he whispered at my ear, “but you and I both know that if we did that, we’d never get out of here.” He nipped my lobe. “So get in there before I tell you not to even bother.”
This was more like the JC I knew. Seductive, naughty. Except that normally he’d not care about leaving the room. He wouldn’t have even cared if I’d made it to the shower—he’d have pounced on me before I made it two feet toward the bathroom door.
So what was this?
I took the time alone in the shower to regroup. I had only a few choices—I could ask him point blank what was up and probably get brushed off. I could tell him I’d changed my mind and decided to go home after all. Or I could go with the flow and stop questioning it.
In the end, I chose the latter. JC had been teaching me to let loose, after all. Maybe this was just another one of his lessons. If he wasn’t going to worry about our rules, then I couldn’t think of a single valid reason I should let them bother me.
***
My errands had us trekking across town to the Meatpacking District. Considering Norma’s newfound love of lingerie, I decided to buy her a gift certificate at La Perla, one of my favorite splurge stores. The trip was a quick in and out, but even that was enough time for JC to get his kicks.
“How about this one?” he asked, holding up a barely-there red bra and panty set.
“I don’t really think it’s your color.”
The sales clerk chuckled at my response.
“But you look amazing in red. Almost as amazing as you look out of red.”
Speaking of red, I was now blushing at the forwardness of this conversation. “JC, there are people present.”
“So there are. I can ask their opinion too.” He brought the item up to the woman who was helping me. “Don’t you think this would be perfect for Gwen, here?”
“That is a favorite piece, sir. Lots of women like to pair it with garters.” She batted her lashes at JC, which I suspected was less about making a sale and more about how irresistible he was.
Admittedly, it boosted my ego that he was with me. Not with me with me, but with me for the day.
“Now we’re talking. I’ll take it all.” When I started to protest, he said, “Where I come from, it’s customary to give the sister of the birthday girl a present too.”
I didn’t know if I should argue or not. It was an expensive gift, but I knew he was the type who liked to pay for things. And I wanted to wear the outfit for him. It made me wet just imagining him stripping me of the garters.
So I played back. “Where exactly is it you come from?”
“Shh. I’m not allowed to say. Remember?”
“Fine. It’s your money.” I placed the gift card for Norma in my purse and started toward the door, careful not to be around to see the last name on his credit card.
“You’ll wear it, though?” he called after me.
I peered over my shoulder, my finger to my lips in a shh. “I’m not allowed to say.” I smiled the rest of the way out of the store, proud of my flirty banter. It wasn’t like me to be so playful. It felt good. It felt liberating. It didn’t even feel all that unnatural.
“Where to next?” he asked when he joined me outside with his bags.
“The closest Greenmarket open on Thursdays is in Port Authority.” I’d looked it up while he was still inside.
JC glanced at his watch before stepping toward the curb to hail a taxi. “And is that the last stop for the day?”
“Why? Do you need to be somewhere?” It was our last stop, but I’d sort of thought we’d spend the afternoon together as well. I suddenly worried he’d changed his mind about hanging out. Did he decide it wasn’t a good idea after all?
At the same time, I realized I was a mess of expectations and wants. First, I thought the idea was too intimate. Then I accepted it. Now I was having fun, and part of me wanted it to never end. It was exactly the reason I’d frowned at the plan in the first place. It was too hard to keep things casual outside of the bedroom.
“Only place I need to be is back in the hotel room.” He held up the La Perla bag. “And not because I’m tired.”
I swallowed, grateful for the cab that pulled over so I didn’t have to respond.
The driver was chatty, and JC entertained him the entire way to the market. I admired the way he could joke so easily. How he could make friends with a total stranger. Yet, except for what I knew of him physically, I really wasn’t much more of a stranger to him than the cabbie. He had that appearance, I realized, of being an open book while really he held more secrets than I did.
Neither of us had been to the farmer’s market at Port Authority, and we had to ask directions. It was smaller than the one I usually went to with Norma, but they had the vegetables I needed. And, again, JC easily found amusement.
“What size is good, Gwen?” he asked me as I tested the avocados.
I turned to find him holding a skinny cucumber in front of him. Low, in front of him. Crotch level.
“This size?”
I waved him away. “Stop it.”
“This one better?”
I couldn’t help myself—I glanced back at him. This time he held a fat stubby one. I laughed. “Definitely not.”
“How about this?” This cucumber was more of a…familiar…size. JC shifted the La Perla bag under his arm so he had both hands free. Then he stroked the vegetable up and down. “It’s long and thick. You like that, don’t you, Gwen?”
My cheeks were flaming now. I looked around to see if anyone was watching us as I scolded him. “JC. Stop it. You’re making me—”
“Embarrassed?” he finished for me, questioningly.
“No.” I lowered my voice. “I was going to say hot.” It was silly, probably, and honestly, it wasn’t that he was being particularly sexy. But he was being…him. And he was fun. And he was frisky. He made me feel fun and frisky simply by proxy. And that turned me on, not just to him but to life in general.
And also onto him.
But not onto cucumbers. I qualified immediately. “That doesn’t mean I want you bringing vegetables into the bedroom.”
“Maybe we’ll save it for our next trip to the Madison Suite then. Since the bedroom is out.” He winked as he threw the cucumber into my basket.
I rolled my eyes, but I didn’t hide my smile. “Oh, grab some yellow squash, will you? Norma loves those.”
JC picked out two and brought them to me. “Is your sister older than you or younger?”
“Five years older. But we’re still really close. Though sometimes she’s more like a mother than a sister.” I’d said more than I should, more than he’d asked, but I’d become so comfortable with our outing that the conversation seemed natural. At least it was info about my sister and not me.
“And she’s turning—?”
My heart sped up as I realized he was asking so he could figure out my age. I pretended to examine a tomato as I took that in. I’d tell him, if he wanted. But we’d been good about never sharing things about ourselves before this. He’d been adamant about it, and I’d…well, I’d thought it might help keep things unattached.
Now, I wasn’t sure if it mattered. I did know that if we started this—shared our personal life—we couldn’t take it back later. It would be out there. It would be a bridge we could never uncross.
I let go of the tomato and turned to face him. “Do you really want me to answer? I know how you feel about the no-details rule.”
He waved his hands in the air as if to erase what he’d said. “You’re right. Don’t tell me.”
I shifted my attention back to the tomatoes, forcing myself to ignore the bite of disappointment
“Except…”
My head shot back up. “Except what?”
“Except I’m kind of curious. About you.” His expression was wary, as though he wasn’t sure I could accept that.
Which almost made me laugh since I’d wanted to talk to him about me for a long time now. But he didn’t know that, so I played it nonchalant. “I knew it would happen eventually.” Once again, I was proud of my banter. I liked this me. I could get used to this me.
He laughed. “Sassy today, aren’t you?”
“But, seriously, how could someone not be curious about all this?” I swept my hand down, gesturing at myself.
“Honestly, that’s a question I ask every time I see you.” While I’d been teasing, JC’s expression was serious.
It made me feel funny. Warm and giggly. And confused. I wasn’t sure what he meant by it, really. Did he mean that he couldn’t understand why other people weren’t more interested in me? Or did he mean he couldn’t understand why he wasn’t more interested in me?
Or did he mean that he was interested in me, and he couldn’t bring himself to ask?
Whichever, it threw me, and I didn’t have a quick comeback. “She’s five years older. I turned thirty in January.” Cautiously, without trying to sound cautious, I asked, “And you?”
“I’m thirty-five in July.”
“Ooh. You’re old!” I teased.
“Hey, people usually say I look younger than that.”
“You do. Like a baby.” I’d thought he was younger myself, though I also wasn’t surprised to find I’d been wrong. “How do you manage to do any sort of business with such a baby face?” Now that I’d gotten the hang of this teasing thing, I couldn’t stop.
“Ha ha.” He looked up at his reflection in the security mirror and rubbed a hand over his scruff. “The face helps, actually. Not when I first approach people, but when they realize I know what I’m talking about, they seem to appreciate the things that my face can get.”
“Like girls who will voluntarily take their clothes off and do lap dances in public places?”
He shrugged.
But all I could think was, he’s thirty-five. I know something about him, and he’s thirty-five.
And I wanted to know more about him.
“What exactly is it you do?” I asked as I made my way to the bins with potatoes. In case he was hesitant to tell me, I added, “It seems only fair that I know that, considering you know what I do.” Funny, I hadn’t thought of that argument before.
JC answered without any pause at all. “I’m an investor. People give me their ideas, and I invest in them.” He raised a questioning brow as he held up a bunch of carrots.
I shook my head and nodded to the peppers. “Like what kind of ideas?”
“Okay, like one I’m working on now. I found a kid—he’s barely legal but brilliant as all fuck—who came up with this new social network idea we’re developing. It’s sort of like Linked In and a little like Facebook, but solely for businesses and organizations to interact for the purpose of cross-promotional opportunities.” He set a green pepper in the basket. “It’s not very interesting.”
“I think it’s very interesting.” God, I hoped that didn’t sound too eager.
“Trust me. It’s not. Anyway, the kid heads up the work. Runs a team of people to get it off the ground. I pay the salaries. Eventually, when the site gets monetized, I’ll receive a large percentage of the profits.”
“So you come in town every week to check up on how the work is going?” I was beginning to understand the travel.
“Among other things. Yeah.” He pointed at me with a bundle of celery. “But back to you. How did you end up nightclubbing?”
“Both my bachelor and master’s degrees were in restaurant management. There was an opening at Eighty-Eighth after I graduated. I took it.” Talking like this felt amazing. Almost as amazing as sex. His genuine interest in me was palpable, and I stopped worrying whether or not I sounded eager and instead simply rode the exhilarating wave of information sharing.
“A bachelor’s and a master’s? Look at you go, Ms. Smartypants. And before you ask, I don’t even have a bachelor’s. I dropped out when I made my first multi-million dollar investment. I was twenty.” He was cute when he was bragging. Like he thought he had to impress me. Like I wasn’t already impressed with everything about him. “Do you ever want to work anywhere besides the club? Or are you happy there?”
“I’m happy. Why, will you help me fund my own nightclub if I ask?” I’d stopped even pretending to look at produce.
JC stuck his hands in his jean pockets and shrugged. “If you’ve got an innovative concept, sure.”
“I’m not that kind of innovative. I’ll stick where I am. The club’s the best in town. I can’t think of any reason why I’d leave.” And because I hoped that maybe he’d give me more information on his relationship with my employer, I said, “And Matt’s a good boss.”
JC turned to look at the onions, even though we’d already picked out what we needed. “You’d only want to work at a club?”
He’d skipped over Matt completely. Well, it had been worth a try. “I think so. I know the business. And I’ve always been a night owl.” I moved to stand next to him, my shoulder grazing against his.
Even through my coat and his, the brush of our bodies made my blood start to simmer.
“I don’t know.” He bumped his arm lightly against mine. “I’d call you more of a panther than an owl. I’ve heard you screech like a wildcat in the night.” He turned toward me, a single finger on his chin. “Come to think of it, I’m sure I’ve also heard you purr.”
I met his eyes. “Only with you.”
“I’m okay with that.” His eyes were absent of the lust that I would have expected, which made the comment more intimate than he’d probably intended.
Even if it was giving away too much, I meant it when I said, “I’m okay with that too.”
We didn’t say anything else until I’d paid for my items. While the grocer bagged up my vegetables, he said, “You know, it’s nice to see you in a different atmosphere. You’re less uptight than you used to be.”
“Your mad plan is working,” I said. He was right, of course. I was much less uptight, but it had more to do with being with him now than it had to do with the sex we’d had. “And you knew that. You’ve seen me loose.”
He took the bags from the clerk and tucked them inside the La Perla bag. “I have indeed. I didn’t know if it extended outside of the bedroom.”
I was surprisingly not humiliated that the clerk had heard the statement. I thanked her then stepped out of the way so the next person in line could check out. We had our vegetables and could leave, but I was too caught up in my next thought. “But isn’t the bedroom the only place it matters?”
“Hardly,” JC said. “Your life is the only place it matters. The bedroom’s just a gateway.” He spotted something behind me. “Oranges. I didn’t see those.”
He walked over to examine the fruit. I trailed behind, considering his statement. It brought on another round of confusing emotions. Had he always intended to eventually make this more than just about sex? Because if so, I had to call a time-out. I could do non-commitment fucking. I couldn’t do non-commitment real life. I knew that about myself. It was why I made sure I didn’t spend time with many people in the first place—so that I wouldn’t have anyone to get attached to.
Maybe I’d misunderstood. Maybe he meant that what we did in the bedroom was supposed to spill over into my daily life without him and spending time together today was just a fluke.
I knew I should clarify.
Except…
The word rang in my head the same way his “except” had rung in the air when he’d spoken it. Except I didn’t want to clarify. I didn’t want to find out that today was just a fluke. I didn’t want to put an end to spending personal time together outside the bedroom.
I didn’t want to not get attached.
Because, honestly? I was pretty sure I already was.
Shocked by my realization, I looked up from the oranges and happened to catch his gaze. There, I saw a flash of something. Something unfamiliar but engaging. Something that called me to move toward rather than pull away. Something that seemed more like an open door than the brick wall that JC always met me with.
It was only a flash.
Then it was gone.
“You know, we should test how far you’ve come.” His voice had the edge of naughtiness that it did when we were naked together.
It made my skin prickle with awareness and my heart pound with nervousness. “What do you mean? Do you want to bang over there behind the market banner?” I hoped he’d say, no, but let’s go bang back at the Four Seasons.
“Actually…” He shifted to study the banner I was referring to, as if considering it. Then shook his head and turned back to me. “Well, good idea. But that wasn’t where I was going with that. Though I like the way you think.”
“I don’t think that way. I was making a joke.”
“Ah, see? We haven’t come as far as I’d like then. If you were truly more relaxed, you would have been serious.”
“I…” I didn’t finish my sentence. I realized that it was pointless to argue with JC about this. There was certainly a difference between being uptight and having a reasonable appreciation for propriety, not to mention the law. Surely a person could be laid-back and chill without having to lose her sense of decency.
But since it wasn’t something he was pushing, I let it go. “Whatever. Fine. What was it you had in mind?”
“How about a little mischief?” He tossed an orange up in the air and then caught it again.
“I can’t even begin to imagine where you’re going with that.” Because I was even more opposed to an orange in the bedroom than a cucumber. Unless he was planning to squeeze it and lick it…
Okay, maybe oranges were okay.
But apparently he had other plans. His expression turned impish, and he did a rather obvious sweep of his surroundings. “Ever did any shoplifting?”
“Oh, no.” I mean, I had, but no. This was not on my agenda for today. Or ever.
“Come on. It will be fun.” He scanned the crowd again.
“Have you ever shoplifted before?” I was not going to teach him. Was not. Was definitely not.
“Nope. First time.” He practically did a full turn this time as he looked to see if anyone was watching.
“That’s not…” I put a hand over my eyes and peeked through my fingers as JC began stuffing an orange in his pocket. “Oh my God. You’re embarrassing yourself. That’s not how you do it.” I grabbed the orange from his pocket and stuffed it back in the crate.
“How do you do it, then?”
“First of all, you can’t look around like that. That’s how you alert other people that you’re doing something that you don’t want them to see. You have to be coy. And look straight at the person closest to you and smile while you’re dropping it in your bag. In the bag you already have. Not your pocket where it will stand out for everyone to see.”
“That’s brilliant. How do you know this stuff?”
I hated how much I adored his praise. “It’s not brilliant. It’s logical. And I know because I’ve done it.”
“You’ve stolen fruit?”
“Well. Yes.” Farmers’ markets were one of the easiest places to get food. But there were other places we’d stolen from. Convenience stores. A restaurant once.
I occupied myself with straightening the oranges—straightening oranges, really?—while I explained. “We were poor and sometimes my dad forgot to feed us. So we got good at this. And we never did it just for fun.”
“Then this will be your first chance. You can teach me how to—”
He reached for another orange, and I blocked him. “No way.” It didn’t matter how much I loosened up, I refused to steal again.
But when he tried to reach over me to grab another, the whole crate, which was on the end of the table, fell to the ground. Oranges spilled everywhere, rolling under the tables and out into the walkway.
“Oh. Fuck,” JC said. “Now what do we do?”
“Run!” I don’t know why I said it. Obviously, the best thing to do—the responsible thing to do—was stay and help clean up the mess. Explain that it was an accident.
But the unexpectedness of the event paired with the general naughty feeling I had anytime I was with JC, not to mention that I had stolen in the past, made me automatically feel guilty. And I reacted by bolting.
JC was on my heels, the La Perla bag full of scanty underwear and vegetables for my sister’s breakfast banging against his leg as we ran through the long halls of Port Authority. No one followed us. No one even called out after us, but we kept going until we were out the doors and around the corner.
The cool air of the March day perhaps was all I needed to knock some sense into me. I stopped running and leaned against a cement pillar to try to calm my breathing. JC put a hand on the pillar to steady himself.
He met my eyes and we burst into laughter.
We laughed like I’d never laughed before, and I knew that the cause was much more than the knocked-over bin in the Greenmarket. It was from a lifetime of not laughing. A release of all the crap that had been my childhood and the parts that had followed into adulthood. I’d always thought I grew up in a drama, but now, in this moment, it felt more comic than any sitcom I’d ever watched on TV.
It felt like letting go. And it was exhilarating.
Next to me, JC laughed just as hard and just as long, and if I hadn’t figured it out before, I knew now that he must have the same sorts of hurts built up that needed as much of a release as mine. I wondered about them as I wiped tears from my eyes. I wondered how it had been so easy for him to recognize them in me and why it had taken me longer to figure out the same about him. I wondered how he knew that spending the day with me was exactly what we both needed. How he knew to ignore our non-attachment rules and connect instead.
I glanced at him doubled over, the La Perla bag dropped at his feet, and suddenly I had a revelation. It might be what he needed, but it wasn’t what JC wanted. Just like me, he hadn’t wanted to get intimate. He hadn’t planned to take me out into the world and test my boundaries. He hadn’t planned to ask me questions about my personal life. He hadn’t planned to look at me with an emotion that was so much more than want. And when he had, he panicked. Stealing the oranges had been his way of trying to regain his composure. It was his reminder that the world could fuck off. It hadn’t been for me at all. It had been for him.
And it hadn’t worked. Because behind the amusement in his eyes was the same emotion he’d tried to hide. More vibrant now. More pure.
So a minute later when we’d finished laughing and we’d somewhat found our breath again, it wasn’t a complete surprise to find him moving toward me and me toward him. Our lips met and locked.
He cupped his hand around my neck and brought me closer to him, holding me firmly. As if he were frightened I’d pull away. Gently, he kissed first my bottom lip, then my top. Then his tongue swept in, teasing me. Tasting me. With sweet surrender, I opened for him. Sweeter still, he opened for me.
We kissed with the exploration of a first kiss. Tentatively at first, then with complete and utter focus. Because even though we’d had our mouths on each other before, it had always been in the context of sex. And while there was enough passion in this embrace to lead there, it wasn’t the reason for it.
We lingered in this kiss. We lavished. We luxuriated. I wrapped my arms around his neck to draw him nearer, then clung on tighter to support my weak knees. I fell into him. I melted.
And he melted into me. Filling my spaces, smothering my emptiness. Making me whole. Making me free.