Page 32 of What We Broke

A sheen of sweat covers my skin as heat coils at the base of my spine and my balls tighten. My back arches off the bed and I feel myself coming undone.

“That’s it,” he rasps, stroking us through our orgasms. “Show me how fucking pretty you are.”

* * *

Clean and sated,I climb into Jesse’s bed like a limp noodle, finally dressed in the clothes he pulled out for me earlier, and make myself comfortable under the blankets. It’s now early morning, and while I feel somewhat tired, my brain is racing a million miles a minute.

We showered together, but it was a relaxed, comfortable silence. Almost like a strange sense of shyness had settled between us as his hands washed my body and mine washed his.

Sex was just supposed to be sex. And from what I’ve gathered, Jesse and I view it very differently. I’d had a lot of it, and his encounters seemed to be few and far between. I’m not sure if it’s the actual act that matters to him or who he does it with, but I’m certain neither of us has ever experienced chemistry as intense as what we shared earlier.

The bedroom door swings open, interrupting my thoughts, and Jesse walks in, his towel-dried hair pointing every which way, carrying two bottles of water, and a satisfied smile spread wide across his face.

I feel my own smile start to grow, so I grab a throw pillow and bury my face in it before he sees how big and goofy it is.

I hear him place the bottles down before the bed dips and the pillow is dragged away from me.

“This is how you looked in the club,” he states.

I snatch the pillow back off him. “What are you talking about?”

“When you were attempting to do that thing you call dancing,” he clarifies.

“You mean when Iwasdancing?”

Chuckling, he shakes his head. “Baby, that was not dancing.”

I shrug off the endearment, because it sounds so good, and if I’m not careful, at the end of our twenty-four hours I’m going to be throwing myself at Jesse’s feet, begging him to keep me.

“What are you talking about?” I climb out of the bed and grab my cell phone that sits on one of his nightstands. Shuffling through one of my playlists, I click on a pop song I’m certain was playing tonight. “This is how everybody dances,” I tell him.

I wait for the chorus to kick in and I start throwing my arms around and shaking my hips just like I did in the club.

“Oh my god,” he laughs. “Who the hell taught you how to dance?”

“It caught your eye, didn’t it,” I tease.

I continue to move, laughing with him, and Jesse lunges for me, grabbing me around the waist and carrying me to the middle of the bed. He lies on top of me, and I spread my legs so he can settle in between.

Propping himself up with his forearms, he just stares down at me.

“You have the most beautiful smile,” he says matter-of-factly before dropping the softest kiss on my lips. “That’s what caught my eye first.”

I don’t know why his revelation has a lump forming in my throat, but I am so floored by his honesty and willingness to just lay it all out there. There has been nothing but complete transparency from the beginning, and I didn’t realize how refreshing it would be.

He isn’t playing a game and he isn’t scared of rejection. He isn’t working his way through an endless number of one-night stands because the idea that someone could get to know him scares the complete shit out of him.

No. That’s just me.

“What’s got you thinking so hard?” he asks.

“You,” I answer honestly.

“And?”

“What happens when the twenty-four hours are up?” I ask. “What happens when I walk out this door later today?”

For some reason, the second the questions leave my mouth I think of his best friend and his daughter and this house that’s covered in a child’s love letters to her father.

---