Page 70 of Tell Me Again

Everything tightens more and then crashes in these intense waves of the best pleasure and relief. And god, it’s so, so good.

I don’t even realize until the last throb of my release that my hand is gripping his on my stomach, and his other hand is stroking my inner thigh with this gentleness and love. And it’s overwhelming all over again.

He lets me slip from his mouth, and then he sits back and somehow pulls me up into his arms. His lips are on mine and then on my cheek, and he’s saying something, but I can’t really understand him over the buzz and tingling that’s still spreading through my body.

There’s something I need to tell him, though. And it’s important. And I need to kiss him again. That’s important too.

My hands find his face, and I draw him in for another kiss. He’s breathing hard, like I am, and he feels so warm. He tastes so good. He deepens the kiss, and it’s intoxicating.

“That was incredible. You’re incredible,” I say as I pull back to look at him. His cheeks are red, and his eyes are half-closed. His chest still rises and falls rapidly. Some intense emotion flares through me, and I kiss his lips again. “I love you.”

He trembles as his arms wrap around me and hold me to him. And his lips graze my cheek before he buries his head in the crook of my neck and lets out a long, shuddering breath.

I’m not sure what he’s feeling right now. Probably completely overwhelmed. Today has been a lot. Shit, the whole week has been a lot.

“Coop . . .”

I rub his back lightly, and he tenses and twists his neck sideways a bit with a grunt.

“Ah, fuck, I . . .”

“More Advil?”

He laughs lightly and then groans again. “Yeah, I think so. But it’s not—I mean, it’s not from the, uh... It was starting to hurt again before I—”

He runs a hand through his hair a little nervously, and I shake my head and press a light kiss to his lips. “Yeah, your last dose probably wore off by now. I’ve got that bottle out in the car. Just give me a minute, okay?”

His arms loosen from around me, and he frowns as he looks up at me. “You—you don’t have to—”

“I’ll do even better than that. Hang on one minute.”

I push myself up off him, stand, and throw my clothes on. Then I jog outside to Brenna’s car—damn, it’s cold, and the wind’s picked up, bringing with it little drops of stinging rain.

I’m quick to grab the Advil, which is in the center console, and then I pop the trunk to get the massage cream from Brenna’s duffle bag of physical therapy supplies. As I start to rummage through the bag, my mind wanders like it hasn’t had the chance to all day. I’ve been so focused on Coop and all these new feelings and experiences, but for the few moments I’m out here alone, going through the trunk of Brenna’s car, I’m reminded of her. There’s this intense pang of sadness that hits me square in the chest, and it’s enough that, for a moment, I forget to breathe. The sadness is quickly replaced by gratitude for all she’s given me. Even with everything I’ve put her through—this upheaval of everything in her life—the last words she’d said to me yesterday were to tell me how happy she was for me. And that just means so, so much.

I let out a slow breath and close my eyes for a second. Then I pick up the tube of massage cream, slip it in my pocket, and close the trunk. A minute later, I’m back inside, the Advil in my hand. I shut the door behind me, shrug my coat off, and then open up the bottle and shake out four of the 200-milligram pills.

“Here, take these. And then . . .”

Coop’s still sitting on the couch, his expression a little tight, and he looks up at me as I hand him the pills.

“Then?”

“We’re moving back to the bedroom.”

He narrows his eyes at me but quickly pops the pills into his mouth and swallows. Then he grabs my hand and pulls me closer. His hands find my hips and his fingers inch under my shirt, teasing along my skin. He rests his head against my stomach, and I run my fingers through his hair.

“We didn’t finish our cheesecake,” he says quietly, but I can tell he’s not really complaining. And when I step back and offer him my hand, he takes it and lets me help him stand.

“We’ll have more cheesecake later. Right now, I’m going to show you one of the benefits of having a physical therapist for a, uh...”

. . . boyfriend? Are we—is that what we are?

Damn, this is all happening so fast. Even if it’s really not. I’ve had these feelings for him... forever. I’ve loved him for so long. I’ve just been hiding—from myself, from him, from my father. I had to. To stay safe. Or at least that was how it started.

But, god, I was so wrong. Letting the lies persist for so long. Lying to myself, long after my dad was no longer a threat.

And what Coop’s showing me today—this love—it’s so much better than I’d ever imagined. I feel real and alive and safe—actually, really safe—for maybe the first time in my life. It feels so good. So right.

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