Love to Love Her YAC (17 page)

“You are so perfect,” I growl as I tug her
back down onto the couch, this time on top of me. She straddles me
and leans up on her hands, which are pressed against my chest. Her
hair falls forward around her face, and a bar of moonlight catches
her eyes, making them glow topaz. She looks at me for a moment,
then resumes moving against me, staring into me as I writhe beneath
her.

She bends her elbows and lowers herself until
her mouth is next to my ear. “Can I take your boxers off?” she
whispers.

For a minute I think I must have been
dreaming. I blink twice before realizing she’s expecting an answer.
“Yeah, baby, you can take them off,” I tell her. Somewhere in my
brain there are sirens going off, but I quell them quickly,
thinking,
This doesn’t mean we’re having sex.

But dammit, I
want
to. I don’t think
I’ve ever wanted inside of someone this fucking bad in my life.

I hold my breath while Rhiannon slips her
fingers under the elastic of my boxers and drags them down. My cock
springs free, and her eyes widen as she looks at it, riveted. I
watch her looking at me for a second, then I take hold of her
wrists and pull her down flush against my chest. I reach down to
adjust myself between her legs.

“I want you naked,” I tell her. I feel her
tremble, and suddenly I feel very powerful. “Just tell me when to
stop,” I whisper before closing my fingers around the clasp on the
back of her bra. I work it loose and discard the strip of satin and
lace on the floor beside us. I push back, wanting to see her before
I keep going. I prop myself up on my elbows and struggle to absorb
the extent of her perfection. I cup her tits in my hands then move
in to close my mouth around her left nipple. I circle her areola
with my tongue and gently suck before repeating the action on her
other side. She throws her head back, panting, pushing me
dangerously close to the brink of rapture.

I place my hands against the small of her
back and breathe her in as I press against her, unable to get near
enough. I nudge her chin up with my nose and drop kisses along her
jawline and down her throat to her breastbone, my desire whipping
into a frenzy. Again I hook my finger in the elastic of her panties
and move them to the side, allowing room for my fingers to push
against her.

“You’re so wet,” I say, sliding my index
finger in and wagging it inside her. Rhiannon convulses at my
touch, and I slide my finger back out and begin rubbing it against
her clit. She curls inward, caving against my chest as I continue
to touch her.

“Oh yes, please, Blake,” she says. If I was
turned on before, it was nothing compared to now, hearing her beg
me to keep touching her.

I enter her again, sliding in two fingers
this time, and watch her beautiful face as a shadow of euphoria
passes over it. Suddenly she straightens her legs, perhaps
unintentionally folding her wet warmth around the base of my
erection. She kisses my lips, then pulls back, a dreamy look in her
eyes.

I begin to panic a little when she pulls back
and stands, but my fears are quieted when she says, “Stay there.”
She grabs a throw pillow off the couch and drops it onto the floor
before kneeling down on it. Forcefully she grabs my thighs and
angles me so she’s between my legs. She seems uncertain of what to
do next, and I want so badly to tell her there’s no way for her to
do this wrong, whatever she’s thinking of.

Finally she plunges forward, grabbing the
base of my dick and stroking upward. My eyelids flutter, and I
throw my head back against the couch cushion.

“
Fuck
, Rhiannon,” I say. “Ah, fuck.
Yes.” I reach down and wrap my hand around hers, squeezing a little
tighter. When I remove my hand she maintains the pressure and
speed, stroking from base to tip as I fight to keep my thoughts
clear of what the next step might entail.

I can feel the climax building deep inside of
me. It quickly boils to the surface, and I latch onto Rhiannon’s
wrist to still her movement. “I’m about to come,” I moan. I breathe
deeply, fighting to clear my thoughts of the beautiful creature
crouched before me. “Just give me a minute,” I whisper, moving my
hand to cover my eyes.

Rhiannon – Sunday, 12:45 AM

B
lake sits very
still. Every nerve in my body continues to thrum, but now I’m
confused. “I can finish,” I whisper. It comes out almost inaudibly.
“I want you to come.”

Blake breathes out through pursed lips,
perhaps struggling to reclaim control over his senses. After an
eternity, he lowers his hand to look at me.

“You don’t know how bad I want that, too,” he
croaks out. “But I don’t want a make a mess we’re not ready for.”
My mind works to suss out the various meanings to his statement,
and I’m not sure whether to feel relieved or embarrassed. In these
types of situations, embarrassment tends to be my default.

Noticing how dejected I must look, Blake
quickly leans over to gather me in his arms. I sit sideways on his
lap while he cradles me, nuzzling his head into the nook between my
shoulder and neck. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he asks.
Oh
good, he doesn’t hate me
, I think. I feel like I’m toeing the
line between ashamed and extraordinarily happy, but my besotted,
alcohol soaked brain finds it easier than it otherwise might to
rebuff the shame in favor of contentment. The depravity I’ve sunk
to in this situation will just have to be
future
Rhiannon’s
problem.

“Can we sleep in your bed?” Blake asks after
a while. The side of me that’s still relishing all we’ve shared in
the past hour experiences a rush of delight at this question. I
simply nod, afraid my voice will betray my overzealousness. I stand
up and allow Blake to pull his boxer briefs back on. He follows me
to my bedroom, where I tug on an oversized sleep shirt and fall
onto the bed. I scoot over against the wall, and Blake hikes a knee
up on the edge of the mattress and crawls toward me. I admire the
way his body looks in the pale moonlight, long, lean and sinewy. He
drops down beside me and pulls the blankets up over us.

“I’m just gonna hold you, okay?” he whispers,
enveloping me in his arms. I press my cheek against his warm chest
and allow his cadenced breathing to lull me to sleep.

Rhiannon – 10:30 AM

I
begin to come to
gradually when the surface I’m lying on shifts. The first sensation
I’m wholly aware of is the warmth of the sun playing across my
face. I peel back my eyelids and wet my lips with my tongue. My
face is smashed into the pillow, and the sheets are a tangled wad
that wraps around my waist and bunches between my legs. I swallow
the knot in my throat and stretch, feeling sore as if I’ve just run
a marathon.

I turn my head slowly, feeling the stiffness
in my neck. I’m crammed against the wall, but the rest of the bed
is empty, and this sets the wheels turning in my mind. It seems as
if there is something missing.

The events of last night come back to me in a
disorderly jumble. Grasshoppers. Ravioli. Blake. Dancing. Andy.
Blake. Kissing. Taxi. Blake. Blake. Blake.
Oh dear God
. I
clutch my chest in my hand, relieved to find I’m at least clothed.
We almost had sex last night
…
And now Blake is
gone
.

My heart splutters. I rack my brain in search
of some piece of a memory of Blake telling me he no longer has a
girlfriend, as if I could conjure that moment into being through
sheer willpower. Deep down, though, I know the memory doesn’t
exist, because that conversation never happened. I am completely
and inexorably a
bad person
. It’s no wonder my bed is empty
this morning.

I lean up on my elbow to look at the clock,
wondering if I can just go back to sleep, hibernate until enough
time has passed that I can simply forget the misery of realizing
what a despicable human being I am. A blue sheet of paper lying on
the pillowcase catches my eye, and I snatch it up. I squint at the
blurry words, not sure I really want to know what they say. After a
moment the words swim into focus.

Rhiannon – Adam is locked out. I just went
to let him in and grab a quick shower. I’m coming back, so please
don’t leave. B.

I feel nauseous. I drop the piece of paper,
spring out of the bed and dash across the hall to the bathroom. I
flip up the toilet seat and crouch on the floor in front of it,
then hang my head over the bowl, waiting as bilious waves rake
through my body. I gag and spit, but nothing else comes up. When I
squeeze my eyes shut, tears slide out from my eyelids, making wet
tracks down my face.

I shift to lie on the floor. My breathing
begins to even out as I press the side of my face to the cool
linoleum, and salt stings my cheeks as my tears dry on my skin. A
moment later my phone begins to ring. My first thought is to ignore
it, but what if it’s Blake? Although shaky, I somehow summon the
strength to stand. I find my phone inside my purse on the kitchen
island, and I take it out just in time before the call rolls to
voicemail.

“Dad?” I ask, confused. He never calls.
Normally I talk to my parents about once a week, and it’s always my
mom who calls and then insists on putting Dad on the phone.

“Rhiannon? Are you all right?”

I clear my throat and walk to the sink to run
myself a glass of water. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sounded choked up.”

“I just had something caught in my throat,” I
assure him. “What’s up?”

Dad sighs. “Dr. Hennessy called us this
morning,” he begins carefully. My heart rate quickens. Dr. Hennessy
is my sister’s oncologist.

“Is he supposed to be working on a Sunday?” I
ask weakly. I massage my chest as I take a deep gulp of water.

“Not technically, no…” Dad replies. “Your
sister hasn’t felt well for a couple weeks so we got some lab work.
We didn’t tell you hoping it was nothing. Then the doctor said it
would be best to do a biopsy. We told Tawny it was all routine so
she wouldn’t worry either.”

He pauses, awaiting my response, but I remain
silent. “He got the results back on Friday but couldn’t call
because of some family situation,” Dad continues. “He wants us to
come in first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Ooookay,” I respond slowly, cautiously
optimistic. “So… He didn’t say if the news was good or bad?”

“No…” Dad’s voice trails off into silence,
like he’s puzzling out what to say. “Listen, kiddo, your mom and I
just wanted you to be prepared in case there’s bad news, that’s
all. You know…usually when the results come back clean we don’t
have to go in for an office visit.”

And there it is. The weight that was slowly
lifting from my chest crashes back down, knocking the breath from
my lungs.

“What does Tawny think about all this?” I
ask, my shielding instincts kicking in.

“Your mother just told her she has a doctor’s
appointment tomorrow. I don’t think she suspects anything.”

Without realizing it I’ve walked back into my
bedroom. I pull my suitcase out of my closet and begin haphazardly
piling clothing inside of it. “I’ll head out in the next twenty
minutes,” I tell him.

“You don’t need to come home, honey. We just
wanted to clue you in so you’ll understand what’s happening in case
Tawny wants to talk with you tomorrow after the appointment.”

A bitter laugh escapes my lips. “Like hell.
She won’t have to call, I’m going to the appointment.”

Dad sighs resignedly. “All right. Just please
drive safely. There’s no hurry today.”

“See you soon,” I say before clicking off the
phone call. I switch into overdrive, scrambling to gather up
everything I might need, unsure how long I’ll need to be away. I
cram all of my textbooks into my book bag and sling it over my
shoulder, then wheel my suitcase toward the door. As I stride
purposefully out of the room, a draft stirs up in my wake, and a
sheet of blue paper drifts to the floor.

Blake – 11:00 AM

I
was glad when I
reached my apartment that Adam was in no mood to talk. By the looks
of it, he’d had a pretty rough night, and when it came to the
choice between sleeping and interrogating me about my night,
falling into bed was his clear priority.

Even though I was in a hurry to get back to
Rhiannon before she woke up, I took the chance to think while I
showered and changed into something clean. The truth is, I do feel
badly about what happened last night, especially in light of the
hardships I’ve faced with Jordan. Amazingly, though, my mixed-up
thoughts on our situation and the fate of our relationship feel
more resolved now than they have in a very long time. Looking at
and touching Rhiannon in such an intimate way cemented the fact
that I’m falling for her, and have been for a long time.

I know I need to have a talk with Jordan
before anything is final – after six years, if nothing else, I at
least owe her a frank discussion. And then there’s Rhiannon – if I
know her at all, I’d say she’s probably going to feel like shit as
soon as she wakes up this morning and remembers everything that
happened between us, if she hasn’t already. I’m going to have my
work cut out for me convincing her it wasn’t her fault and she’s
still one hundred percent worthy of my adoration. The real question
remains, am I still worthy of
her
? Was I ever, really?

I swing through the drive-up at a java stand
on the corner across from Rhiannon’s apartment and pick up two cups
of black coffee. Once I reach the apartment complex I park and head
up the stars, coffee in tow.

When I slipped out this morning, I left the
front door unlocked. I tap lightly before trying the knob, and I’m
surprised when I find it locked again. I balance the two cups of
coffee in the palm of my left hand and knock harder with my right.
I wait several seconds, straining to hear any sound of movement on
the other side. I knock again, and this time I call out. “Rhiannon?
Are you in there?”