Page 84 of Everything We Left Unsaid

My mouth finds hers again, my body splayed on top of her. She reaches down, pushing my pants and underwear over my ass and straining erection.

“Please,” she whispers, needing me, wanting me inside her. I fight the urge to sink into her unsheathed and stand abruptly, pulling a condom from my pocket and quickly discarding my clothing. I roll it down my length and settle myself between her legs. She cups my face, pulling it close to hers. “I love you.”

“I love you.” I punctuate my words with a deep thrust, eliciting an erotic moan from her lips. Her body, still so sensitive and raw from her first orgasm, comes to life quickly. I love how responsive she is. All the soft little noises she makes drive me wild, and I want to hear them every time I touch her. Her climax crests, quick and hard, and I follow shortly behind her.

My alarm chimesfrom my phone before the sun has a chance to rise. Abby groans and rolls into my side, snuggling against my chest.

“Ugh, why is that going off so early?” she laments.

“Gotta get a workout in before we start getting ready for the party.”

Her sleepy eyes fly open, bugging out in surprise as she sits straight up in bed. “What party?”

“Dad’s birthday party,” I answer slowly, confused by her reaction. We talked about this weeks ago, but she acts like she has no recollection of the conversation. Her gaze loses focus and she looks away, searching her memory. “Remember? We talked about it right before I came to visit last time. I explained that’s why I wanted you guys to come this weekend.”

“I must’ve forgotten,” she admits, giving her head a tiny shake. “I was so focused on you making it in to see us, I don’t think it even registered.” Suddenly, her eyes widen and dart to mine. “Oh, no!” she cries and flies out of bed, throwing on clothes. “What time does the party start?” she asks, her voice panicked.

“It starts at two.” I slip out of bed and make my way to her, placing my hands gently on her arms to stop her. I don’t know what’s got her so anxious, but I’m determined to calm her down.

“Where’s the closest mall? I need to find something suitable to wear.” Her words come out in a rush as she attempts to wiggle from my grasp. “What kind of party are we talking about here? Garden party, semi-formal? I have no idea how to dress for these things!”

“Abby,” I bite out a little too harshly, but it gets her attention. “There’s no need to worry about any of that.” She shoots me a perplexed look. “The stylist will be here at ten. I’ve asked her to bring a variety of appropriate styles for both you and Chloe.”

Her mouth falls open and she gapes at me. “A stylist?” she sputters, unbelieving.

“Yes, a stylist. She always comes for these events.”

“I-I don’t know what to say. This is kind of surreal,” she declares, sinking onto the edge of the bed. “The only other person who ever dresses me is Tiff,” she snorts.

I chuckle, remembering some of the more revealing clothing choices her friend picked out for her. “I like the way Tiff dresses you.” I pull her in for a kiss and her body relaxes, melting into mine.

“I’m going to hit the gym. Why don’t you go back to bed and get some rest, and I’ll come get you guys when breakfast is ready?”

She shakes her head. “There’s no way I can go back to sleep now. I’m too jittery,” she asserts. “What I really need is to go for a run.”

“Well, there’s a treadmill downstairs. You wanna come with me and run while I lift?”

“Downstairs?”

“Yeah, our gym is in the basement.”

“You have a gym in your house?” she asks incredulously. I nod. That wasn’t part of the tour and I didn’t even think to mention it last night. But now she’s looking at me with a mixture of shock and awe.

“Well, I...” she stammers. “I’m not much for treadmills. I prefer to run outside when I can.” She shoots me an apologetic look, one that tells me she’s not trying to be difficult.

“Alright,” I agree easily. I want her to feel at home here. I want her to be comfortable voicing her wishes and preferences. If I make her feel at ease, maybe she won’t look so intimidated all the time.

We decide that I’ll work out first and once the sun is up, she’ll go for her run while I keep an eye on Chloe and feed her breakfast.

My parents are already at the table when Chloe and I enter the dining room. I hold two plates stacked high with scrambled eggs and French toast that I managed to whip up while Chloe entertained herself with some crayons and a princess coloring book. Things are going well until the moment Chloe decides to throw a temper tantrum.

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