Chapter 36

Kendra

Only Grant could make me that angry. He had the ability to bring an emotional reaction from me like I had never experienced before. I was so mad that I wanted to shout. I wanted to scream. I wanted to walk to where he usually parked his car and smash the window. But, of course, I couldn’t do that.

Instead, I walked.

The box that I was carrying was just full of useless trinkets that I had collected during my few months at Luscious, so I dumped them in the first trash can that I saw. I then turned off the main road that headed back to my apartment and walked into Central Park instead. I just didn’t feel like going back to my home, curling up into a little ball, and feeling sorry for myself. I didn’t want to give Grant that satisfaction.

In the end though, the Park was an even worse decision than my apartment could have ever been. I don’t know if it was always that way, or if it was just on account of my emotional state that everything seemed magnified, but the Park, for some reason, seemed to be packed full of loving and adoring couples.

I sat down at the first bench I saw, only to regret my decision the moment I had made it. The other two people on the bench were a young couple who were holding each other adoringly in their arms. They kissed one another and whispered into the other’s ear, what I assumed to be sweet nothings of love. It made my heart ache.

From there, I powered across the Park, away from them, only to be confronted by more and more of the same. From the couples on picnic blankets, to the ones that were jogging together, or strolling hand in hand. It was everywhere, and every single one only served to remind me of what I didn’t have. They only served to remind me of what I had walked out on with Grant.

Maybe I should have taken him up on his offer. Not the quitting of my job, but the taking of the new one. If he had offered me that, without forcing me to quit at Luscious, then I would have taken it, no questions asked. If he had asked, not told me, too, then I would have been only too happy to oblige, to keep him happy. But he didn’t ask me. He demanded it of me.

It was just so damn insulting. I don’t doubt that he loved me. And I don’t doubt that he trusted me, either. And I still loved him, just as much as I had the previous night. I just needed him to show me that he did. I needed a reason to say yes and be with him, because every time that I think he has given me a reason, he takes it back.

What I wanted, more than anything else, was an apology. I wanted one that he actually meant. One that showed to me that he was willing to let me live my life. That being with him wasn’t a mutually exclusive deal.

My apartment felt uncharacteristically empty when I got home thirty minutes later. I had always lived alone, and coming home to an empty place was normal. But that day, I don’t know. It just felt so final. It was probably because of this emptiness and solitude that I jumped about ten feet in the air when my phone rang.

It was Grant. I stared at the caller ID for several rings, trying to decide if I should answer. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to hear his voice. I wanted him to apologize and try and make it up to me. But I was also scared that he wouldn’t. What if he was calling to end it for good this time?

“Hello,” I answered coldly.

“Don’t hang up, please,” he hurried on the other end of the line. “Please just hear me out.”

“I don’t know if I should, Grant. What reason do I have to hear you out? Tell me please. Give me one reason.”

“Us,” he said simply. “Isn’t our love reason enough?”

My stomach twisted with that confession. He was right. Maybe I did owe him that much. I did want a reason to forgive him. I just didn’t know if he was going to be able to provide it. If he was going to be willing. But it seemed that maybe he would be after all.

“Okay, fine,” I said. “Say your piece.”

Surprisingly, Grant hung the phone up the second the words had left my lips. But then, unsurprisingly, there was a knock at the door, and I knew who it was before I had even taken one step toward it.

“Hey,” he said as I opened the door. He offered me a weak smile as I stepped aside to let him in. He looked defeated, weak even. More so than I had ever seen before.

“You have five minutes,” I said, taking a seat on the couch. I don’t know why I offered him the ultimatum. In truth, I wanted a reason to forgive him. I was hoping that he gave me something, anything to latch on to. I hoped that he wanted to.

“I don’t even know what to say,” he admitted.

“How about sorry?” I suggested.

“Yeah,” he offered me another weak smile. One that begged to be forgiven. “I’ll start there. I’m sorry, Kendra.”

“And what are you sorry for?” I pushed. I felt like a therapist, and he was my client as I led him toward the answer.

“Can I say ‘everything’?”

“I’d rather you be specific.”

“From the beginning then,” he said, nodding. “I’m sorry for treating you like the girl who hurt me in high school and not the woman that you are. I’m sorry for acting like you mean nothing to me when, in fact, you mean everything. I’m sorry for assuming that my needs come before yours and that yours don’t even matter. I’m sorry for making you quit your job because of my own insecurities, and I’m sorry for thinking that this is okay.”

As he spoke, something strange happened. Maybe not strange, but unexpected. I found myself forgiving him. Oh sure, I wanted to forgive him, but I had no idea that it would happen so quickly. I thought that he would offer me some platitudes and hope that was enough. I thought we would fight, maybe take a break, and then try again. I thought it was going to be an uphill battle the entire way. But no.

His apology was genuine. I had no doubt. As he spoke, he looked into my eyes. I could see behind them and see the truth in them. His body seemed to shake, and it looked as if he were lifting a huge weight off of himself.

“And I’m sorry for—”

I didn’t let him finish. I didn’t need for him to finish. He had said everything that he needed to.

I leaped from the couch and into his arms, taking his head in my hands as I pulled his mouth to mine. I caught him off guard, but only for a second. Almost immediately, he returned the kiss with equal enthusiasm.

“I really am sorry,” he tried to say between kisses. “I need you to know that.” He tried again as I smothered him. “If I ever hurt you again—”

“Grant, I know,” I said as I pulled myself from him. I looked into his eyes, and he looked into mine. And from that moment on, we both knew that we were on the same page.

From there, I took Grant’s hand and led him across the room to my bed. I laid him down, and we made love for the first time.

It was tender and passionate, like nothing we had ever done before. It wasn’t raw and sexually driven. It was sweet and soft. It was perfect.

We started by slowly undressing one another. There was no ripping off of clothes, or one of us standing back while the other admired. It was a joint venture. I removed his shirt, kissing him down his stomach as he slipped mine off, too. I helped him wriggle from his pants as he did the same with me and my skirt. We wrapped ourselves in each other’s arms, our bodies pressed up against one another, our skin merging as one. My hands were all over him and his all over me.

He rolled himself on top of me, kissing me deeply as he did. He didn’t pull or scratch, but stroked; it was caring, like nothing he had ever done before. From there, he slipped my panties off, and as he did, I pulled his briefs down. His cock was already hard, but I didn’t move to put it in my mouth, and he didn’t try and force it. I wanted him to be inside of me. I wanted him to be a part of me.

He wanted the same. Looking into my eyes, I felt him slip himself inside of my already dripping wet pussy. He slid into me slowly, inch by inch. It had never felt so good. Once it was all the way inside of me, he slowly pulled himself out, only to slide himself back in. Each time was like he was penetrating me for the first time. It really felt that amazing.

And as he rode me, back and forth, nice and slow, he kissed me on the lips. We kissed, and we kissed, and that was almost as good as the sex. He didn’t pull my hair or put his fingers in my mouth. I didn’t slap him across the face or jump on top and ride his brains out. Instead, I let him have me. All of me.

He grinded into me, back and forth, for what felt like hours. Every second was perfect and magical. Every second, I felt like I was on the cusp of orgasming but never came. It was an extended experience that only heightened with each passing moment.

But eventually, I did come. We both did. He looked into my eyes, telling me that he was ready. I nodded, letting him know that I was, too. He then increased his rhythm, making sure to move to the rhythm of my breathing and panting. As he did, I felt the orgasm erupt inside me. The moment that happened, I felt him also erupt inside of me. As one, together, we both came.

Although it was plain and it was simple, it was also the best sex we ever had. At least, I thought so, and I was sure that he felt the same way.

“So, what now?” Grant asked after several minutes of us lying next to each other, our sweaty bodies entangled.

“I think that we should take it slow.” It was something that I had been thinking about, and I figured it was the best option. We had rushed into it far too quickly before, announcing our love straight away. No wonder we both had our hearts broken.

“Slow?” he asked, sounding almost disappointed. “What does that mean?”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” I assured him. “I still want to be with you.”

“Yeah? For how long?”

“Hmm,” I said, smirking as I did. I could see him watching me. “How does forever sound?” And with that, I rolled on top of him, ready to show him exactly what I meant when I said forever.