Page 55 of Someday Not Soon

That’s when I see him. Hair dripping from a fresh shower, steam swirling around the mirror. One hand braced on the counter, muscles tight and rippled along his arm. His other hand is what I can’t take my eyes off of though. Gripped tightly around his thick cock, he jerks himself. He moves with an urgent rhythm as if he’s chasing the memory of my touch.

When my sudden appearance registers, he abruptly stops, like a car slamming on its brakes. “Shit. Ella.” Rushing to tuck himself back in, his massive erection pitches tight in his sweats.

I slam the door shut, yelling from the other side. “I’m so sorry. I thought you were sick again.” My heart is pounding, and my panties are wet. Somehow watching him jerk off for all of two seconds is hands down the best foreplay I’ve had in years.

“You can finish…or whatever. Sorry again.” My voice is too high and screechy to appear like I’m perfectly unaffected. I’m horrible at fakinganythingand right now it’s especially difficult.

Embarrassed for bursting in on him, I scramble back to bed, my hurried footsteps echoing the thump of my pulse. The memory of him getting himself off will forever be burned into my mind. With this strange friendship-relationship crosshairs we’re stuck in, I’m not sure what Ishould have done when I saw him. Offered to finish him off? Begged him to fuck me?

The bathroom door creaks open and he walks back into the room. His ears are bright red, and his expression is stormy, like thunderclouds about to burst.

My eyes dart everywhere but to his face, because looking at him feels unbearable right now.

“Ella—” he begins.

I interrupt in an attempt to salvage the situation. “I’m so sorry I barged in. I thought you were throwing up again. We can forget it ever happened.”

For a beat he stares at me. It feels like his eyes are burning a hole into the side of my head, like he’s a superhero with crazy laser abilities. “Is that what you want? To forget?”

It feels like he’s asking me aboutmorethan me seeing him during a mid-jerk off session. It feels like he’s asking about if I want to forget about everything concerning the two of us.

Finally, I turn to make eye contact, which is a very difficult task when his erection is distractingly bulging through his pants.

He drags a hand through his damp hair, his voice low and rough. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

I shake my head.

“Because of you, I was two seconds away from coming in my pants while we slept next to each other. Being near you, touching you, it’s like my senses are on this overload of euphoria. It’s more than just physical—it’s you. Every part of you gets under my skin in the best possible way.”

The intensity of his confession sets me on fire, burning away any lingering doubt. My legs tremble as I rise and step toward him, closing the distance until we’re only inches apart. I can smell the pine of his soap, and the mint of his toothpaste as his eyes lock onto mine, searching for answers to the questions that are clearly racing through his head. I don’t hesitate, I lean in, my lips soft and light against his. It’s a silent promise that this is what I want—what we both want. Whether it’s for this moment or for every single one that follows.

Reaching into his pants, he takes out his cock, while his free hand gently grabs my chin, tiling my face to his. “Do you have any idea how unbelievably gorgeous you are?” he rasps.

My hand drifts down under the fabric of my shorts and between my thighs. I begin to touch myself, feeling the slickness that’s been building this whole time.

His eyes never leave me, locked onto every movement as he strokes himself harder. “That’s it, love,” he breathes. “Let me see how much you want this.”

I press my fingers against my clit, a moan slipping past my lips. The sound of it makes him curse under his breath, his control hanging by a thread. This isn’t the Jude I know, the gentle, easygoing man who always puts my needs before his. This version is primal, driven by a hunger that’s been simmering for years.

I slowly peel my shirt up and off. His hand glides up and down his length, as he devours every inch of my bare skin with his gaze.

He hasn’t touched me yet, but the hunger in hisexpression says it all—he’s desperate, like a starving man eyeing a feast laid out before him. I grab his wrist, feeling the slight shake in his hand as I guide him to the swell of my breasts. With that, his restraint breaks in two, snapping like a twig. He grabs a greedy handful, his thumb brushing against my nipple as they harden under his touch. His mouth is everywhere at once, tasting every inch of me. My neck and collarbone, each shoulder, the plane above my breasts. I’ve dreamt of how this moment would be for years, and it never fully touched what the reality is quickly becoming.

With one hand still on me, he goes back to jerking himself with his other. From the energy of his movements alone, you’d think perhaps he’s angry. But his face is anything but that—it’s awe, and years worth of pent-up desire, pouring out all at once. His teeth nip the delicate skin of my neck. “I’ve thought about you, and this goddamn perfect body of yours, for ten years.”

Demons of my past take over, self-consciousness washing over me. Because I’m not some magazine cover girl. I’m far from perfect. I don’t have perfect skin and smooth hair. I have stretch marks, the occasional bout of acne, and hair that typically has a mind of its own. He must see the insecurities written all over my expression, because he cups my cheek in one hand, thumb smoothing over my cheekbone.

“What’s that look for?”

I could lie and play it off as nothing, but he’d see right through it. So I opt for the slightly embarrassing, vulnerable truth instead. “You don’t have to shower me withcompliments that aren’t true, Jude. Everything about me…I’m far from perfect.”

He tilts his head down, making sure I’m looking at him, hearing every word. “To me, you are. To me, it is. El, you’re the woman of my literal dreams.”

I exhale, the doubt leaving my body as it’s replaced with a flood of assurance. He’s always had this way of making me feel beautiful in a way I’ve never known.

I drop down to my knees, the urge to make him feel good suddenly overpowering everything else.

When I wrap my hand around the weight of his erection, he grows even harder under my touch, his breath hitching as I stroke him up and down, precum glistening on the tip. “Do you like this?”

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