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into me. This wasn't about sex anymore, wasn't about climax anymore; now it was about the pure joy
of being filled by him, of our bodies joined.
We drifted, his body spooned against mine, and I woke to the rhythmic soughing of his sleeping
breath, and his cock hard within me.
It was instinctual, my mind half asleep, my body awake and filled and wanting. I moved, a slight
roll of my hips, and he, even sleeping, responded, moaning muzzily. His hand was on my hip, and
now I heard his breathing change and his hand drifted up to cup my breast, and he pushed into me,
pushed into me, and I pushed back, and then we were desperate once more, moving in synchronized
need. Full and deep, harder and faster, his breath on my back, his fingers on my nipple, and then he
rolled onto his back with me on top of him, sliding up so he was on a slight incline against the
headboard, all of my weight on his body, his knees drawn up next to mine, and oh god, oh god, he'd
never, never filled me so fully as this. My arms wrapped around his knees and I pulled myself up,
released, pulled, released, driving him so deep I thought he might sink all the way within me and
disappear, and my muscles were trembling but I kept going, pushed through it, needing his fullness
more than ever. As much as I'd had him in the last few days, I couldn't get enough, couldn't be filled
without wanting and needing more and more and more.
We came together, in the same moment, a groaning symphony of ecstasy.
This time, when we were finished and limp, Shane got up and brought a towel and cleaned me,
gentle and thorough.
We slept again, tangled together.
* * *
I woke to Shane's lips on mine, soft and tender and hesitant. He waited until I'd rubbed the sleep
from my eyes and gazed up at him with wondering eyes. His expression was that of a man about to say
something important.
I waited, my heart in my throat.
"I'm so in love with you, Leo," he said.
There it was, out in the open, spoken in so many words.
"Shane..." I wanted to say it back, but I stalled.
The only time John had ever said the words, 'I love you' was when he'd proposed. My response
hadn't been an enthusiastic, 'Oh John, I love you too.' No, what I'd said was, "me too." We'd been
together for over two years when he'd proposed, and told me he loved me. I think he'd only said it
because he figured I expected it.
Now here was Shane, telling me loved me. He wasn't proposing, I didn't think. Although I could
come up with far less romantic ways of proposing than in the afterglow of mind-blowing sex, that's
for sure.
If I told Shane I loved him, it was crossing a line, within myself. Love. Seems simple: you have
sex with a man, you spend time with him, you learn about his faults and peccadilloes and dreams, and
you think about him when you're away from him, and your lives gradually merge until they're all
tangled up. Love.
But, now, with Shane, I was finding something else. It started as lust, as adventure. I'd slept with
him, thinking I'd go my way the next day and chalk it up as one wild night with a hot, exotic stranger
as a rebound from breaking up (rather dramatically) with John. But...that hadn't happened. It had
turned into a complete upheaval of my life, of my expectations for my future...and then I'd just kept
going along with him and with the insanity of events. And now, in his family's home, after meeting his
mother and father and brothers and realizing I felt a sense of belonging with him, and with them, and
wanting to stay with Shane and share his future, even though I barely knew him...
I started sobbing.
Shane held me, didn't shush me or ask questions, just held me tight and kissed my tears away until
they subsided.
After I'd quieted, he said, "Too soon?"
I shook my head. "No, it's not that. You've slipped a few times, like you'd almost said you loved
me, but stopped yourself. But...knowing, or at least suspecting you did, that's one thing. Hearing you
say it, that's another. I don't I don't know how to deal with it. With everything. Sudan, your family,
and now you tell me you love me? It's all so much."
"Why is it a big deal, though? After everything we've been through since we met, how could I not
have fallen in love with you?" Shane lifted up on an elbow and stroked my skin from thigh to breast
and back down. "And if you're willing to stay with me, to go public with me, then...don't you feel the
same way?"
I nodded, a tiny inclination of my head. "Yeah. I do. But, like I said, knowing it and saying it is
different. Saying it makes it...I don't know...more real. More permanent."
"Maybe that's how I want it," Shane said. "I don't want to let you go. I've said several times now
that I'd take you back to Detroit, if you wanted to go. I'd take care of you. I mean, I'd find you a place
to live, on your own. Now that you know I'm...well off, financially, you know buying you a little
condo wouldn't be anything to me. I wouldn't even notice it, money-wise. And...if that's what you
want, I'll do it. But to be honest, the thought of you going home, I mean back to Detroit, alone...that
scares me. Not seeing you again...scares me. I want you here. I want you...period."
"I wouldn't let you buy me a condo, Shane. Sure, you could probably buy me an entire condo
building and not feel it, but...I wouldn't let you." I took a deep breath and forced myself to face up to
how I felt, and say it out loud. "I'm not going anywhere, Shane. I love you, too."
My heart was pounding, rabbiting a mile a minute. It felt crazy to be telling him I loved him, but...I [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]