Page 49 of Big Balls
Yet another reason I knew I would end up trampled to dust by this stupid man. I don’t even exist in the same world where he lives full-time. We might as well live on different planets, me and the man of my dreams.
The one I can hear approaching me. The one I swear I can feel the heat coming off of his body as he stands as close to me as possible without us actually touching.
When he finally speaks, the breath from his words stirs my hair. “California.” A statement, not a question.
“Yeah, a new adventure for me, too, I guess. Just like Katy.”
I can’t turn around and look at him, even though I can feel him staring at me, at the skin on my neck and where my hair falls across my shoulder.
“You sound about as enthusiastic as she does,” he continues, and this time he reaches his arms around me, and lays them on top of mine. His big, action-figure forearms over the top of my smaller ones. His hands, so heavy and uniquely talented, covering my own.
It feels good. It feels like we fit together, like I could get used to his touch.
“If you’re leaving, I guess this wouldn’t have worked anyway,” he says gently, right next to my ear.
And there’s the anger that I remember searing through me. I drop down and push away from him, even though I want nothing more than to tear all of my clothes off and beg him to fuck me one last time, right here in the sitting room, or whatever rich people call a room where they put together puzzles.
I desperately need to store up memories that will last the rest of my life, because I’m pretty sure Ethan Alexander has ruined sex for me from now on.
It’s unusual enough for me to be able to have an orgasm with another person in the same room with me. The night we were together feels like a dream, or something that happened to someone else. Because it wasn’t one time. I actually lost count, and I can’t stop thinking about it.
But I could definitely find it in me to hit him right now, looking at me with these sad eyes like I am the one who ended things. Like I am the one who doesn’t want this to happen between us.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Don’t youdareact like this is on me somehow. Because it isn’t. There is no way that I would have ever—”
His mouth on me cuts off the rest of the sentence. I make a hungry, needy sound in the back of my throat because this is all I’ve been thinking about.
His lips. His tongue. His hands on my skin. His body against mine.
We break apart, and we stare at each other while we both breathe in quick, heavy gasps. I swear out loud, and he comes toward me quickly, taking my face and framing it between his hands.
Then his tongue is stroking against mine, and I forget every bad feeling I have had over the past few days. There is no time and nothing to worry about in the future. The only thing that matters is this, the feel of us together. Knowing it’s almost the last time we can kiss.
“Do you want to—” He pauses, then licks his lips.
“Yes,” I say quietly. “But only this once. And don’t go catching any feelings for me simply because I am leaving and therefore am now unattainable. I know that has to be like catnip to you.”
He shakes his head. “I am the worst.”
“Yep,” I say, popping the p with my lips. “You really, really are.”
I lean into him and we kiss again, and it’s every bit as good as it was before. Possibly better.
Because neither one of us is shy about the way we come together this time. It is an assault against my mouth by the most skilled lover I will ever touch or be touched by. It could have been so good with us, if circumstances were different.
Instead this is goodbye. Something for each of us to remember each other with.
“Come inside,” he croons, beckoning with one naughty finger.
I pause. “We’re already inside your house, Sherlock Holmes.”
He smiles. “Come inside my bedroom. I want you to lie down in the place where I sleep every night and then let me do some very disrespectful things to your body.”
I break out in a tiny wave of goosebumps. I swear the way this is playing out makes me feel like I’m a small dog who actually catches a car and then panics. What am I supposed to do now that I’ve caught up with the dangerous thing? Bite it?
“I’m sorry that Katy is mad at me.” I press my fingers to my swollen feeling mouth, and watch as his eyes track the movement.
“You’re in fine company then,” he says as he reaches for my wayward hand, tucking it into his elbow. “I don’t know if she’s ever going to talk to me again.”
