Page 134 of ClickBack

“Gone home after the party.”

“You tried that.”

“You were in the parking lot.”

“You could have kept walking.”

“I’m aware.”

I smile at her. She almost smiles back, then looks at her hands.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” I say.

“So am I. Even now.”

It is the first thing tonight that lets me breathe without thinking about it. I lean forward, elbows on my knees.

“When we talked in Atlanta, I wasn’t saying that until something easier came along. I meant I wanted you.”

“I believed you.”

“Believe me now, too.”

She meets my eyes.

“I don’t need this to be easy all the time,” I tell her. “I need you willing to tell me when I’ve fucked it up.”

“You may regret that wording.”

“I’m sure you’ll remind me.”

She stands, leaves the tissue on the table, and comes toward me. I get up when she reaches the chair. For the first time since I walked in, she touches me, fingers against my shirt, just below my ribs.

I want to tell her I love her. I want to hear what she would say, and wanting an answer is how I know not to put it in the middle of this.

“Can I hold you?” I ask.

“Yes.”

I bring her close. She puts her face against me, and I bend over her with my eyes shut. No speech I practiced in the car could have accounted for how much I needed this. I feel her take hold of my shirt, then loosen her grip without letting go.

We stand there until she lifts her head. Her kiss is careful at first. Mine is, too. Then she makes a small, impatient sound and pulls me down to her properly.

When she takes my hand, I follow her upstairs.

In her room, she turns on the lamp and draws me toward the bed. I sit at the edge. She stays between my knees, looking down at me, then pulls her shirt over her head. Her bra follows. She drops both beside us instead of turning away to put them somewhere.

I put my hands on her legs. Warm brown skin, the soft curve of her stomach above the waistband. She watches me take her in. I don’t have to guess whether she wants me looking.

We finish undressing beside the bed. I kiss her hip, then beneath her ribs. Her hand rests over the back of my head while I take one breast into my mouth, then the other. I circle each nipple with my tongue and nip lightly when it tightens. She says my name, low and clear, and presses her fingers against my shoulder.

When I look up, she is moving back onto the mattress. She opens her thighs and reaches for me.

“Don’t stop now.”

I lower my head and taste her. She settles back against the pillows, one hand at my nape. I follow the pressure of her fingers, staying where her breathing tells me she wants me. When I slide two fingers inside her, she lifts to meet them. I keep my mouth on her while she holds me there, her other hand closing around the sheet.

“Jarrett. Right there.”