Page 90 of If This Was a Movie

“I want you to come with me,” I groan as he slams in hard before pulling back out and repeating the cycle.

“Fuck,” he moans through gritted teeth, his forehead coated with a thin sheen of sweat.

“I want you to fill me, Nate,” I shout as he fucks me hard, eyes locked on my face like he’s afraid if he blinks, he’ll miss something life-changing before finally, he slams into me, hitting deep and staying there, grinding against me and tipping me over the edge.

I come hard, stars shooting behind my eyelids as they slam shut. The room goes quiet; the only thing I can hear is the pounding of my heart. Pleasure crashes over me, my back arching as he plants himself deep.

His hips dig into mine, grinding against my clit as I come and come and come, his name a prayer on my lips. My hips tip up to try and get him in deeper, and it’s then I hear his own groan of release, his teeth biting into the place where my neck meets my shoulder and causing another mini-orgasm to roll through me as I feel him pulse inside of me, filling me.

We lay like that, coming down from the all-consuming high of now being together, and even when I search for it, I can’t find that fear I’d be holding on to. And when Nate looks down at me, his eyes go soft like he, too, knows it’s gone.

It’s just him and me and the promise of cinematic happily ever after.

THIRTY-FIVE

JULES

I sit bundled in the living room, staring at the fireplace as Nate continues to poke it, shifting the wood or adding more. The power is back, but I think Nate just wants a distraction, something to keep himself busy.

“Are you still mad at me?” I finally blurt out. It’s been bugging me since we cleaned up post-mind-blowing sex.

Nate, normally so chatty and outgoing, has been quiet and contemplative. Though I let him be, I know if I continue with this elephant in the room, I’ll start to overthink everything, and that’s not good for anyone. If I want to move forward without this cloud of dread and panic hanging over me, I need to actually talk to Nate and tell him what I’m thinking.

He looks at the fire, closing his eyes and sighing before standing, crossing his arms on his chest. He’s in just a pair of sweats while I’m in one of his way-too-big-for-me tees, and he looks absolutely delicious. A flat stomach that’s just a bit soft that has a light, happy trail disappearing beneath his dark gray sweatpants, and arms and shoulders that I now know from personal experience are strong enough to hold me against a wall while he fucks me breathless.

My pussy clenches, like now that we’ve crossed that barrier, she has a lot of making up she would like us to do.

“Are you still going to pretend there’s nothing between us?” he asks, an eyebrow raised and a small smile on his lips. I shake my head with a similar smile because there’s no point in that anymore. “Then no. I’m not mad at you.”

“So you were mad at me?” I ask, my stomach turning in on itself.

He sighs, sitting on the edge of the couch. The fire lets out a loud pop that catches both of our attentions before he looks back at me.

“A little? I don’t know.” He looks at his hands before continuing to speak. “Frustrated is probably the right word. I was frustrated you were standing in the way of something we both really wanted. I was frustrated that you couldn’t look past your fear and take the leap. But you also have really great points: there is more than just you and me to worry about if things go sideways. There’s Sophie and Claire. My entire family is already obsessed with you.”

“Most have barely even met me yet!” I say with a laugh.

“Claire has been talking about you for the last six months, Sophie screams about you every chance she gets, and, of course, there’s me.”

“You?” I ask with a smile. “Are you talking about me to your family?”

“Every chance I can get, dollface. They’re very excited to spend more time with you at the Christmas party next week if you’d like to be my date.” My stomach roils thinking about it, but he just smiles. “All that to say, I’m not madatyou. I was just frustrated that you wouldn’t give us a chance. We can be great, baby. I just want you to allow us to be.”

“I’m going to do my best,” I say low. “But I can’t guarantee I’m always going to be…brave,” I say.

“All I ask is that you talk to me, Jules. You’re allowed to feel the way you do, there’s nothing wrong with that. But when you’re scared, I want you to talk to me. If you’re confused, you talk to me. We can do almost anything, so long as we talk it through.”

I smile, loving this. This new relationship is based on open, honest communication, and him already knowing all of my faults, shortcomings, and fears. Even more, I love that he doesn’t see them as shortcomings, but more as something we have to work through together.

That’s beautiful, if you ask me. Something even better than the movies because there’s no obnoxious miscommunication or anything.

“All right, enough about this. I’m crazy about you, you’re crazy about me,” he says, a wide smile on his face as he moves toward me.

I squeal as he throws back the blanket covering me, slides under, and cozies up to me, pressing his lips to my neck.

“Say it again,” he whispers there, his hand moving under my shirt to soothingly rub up and down my back. I close my eyes at the feel and sigh.

“Say what?”

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