Page 130 of Catch a Kiwi
I wanted to say something.Thank you,maybe.I love you, too,possibly. But I’d used all my words. All I saw was Roman’s face, and all I felt was his hand around mine. All I could do was to put my hand on his face, lean forward, and kiss him, so that was what I did. Slow and long and so sweet, his hand on my face, too, his lips moving over mine. Giving and taking and …
Loving.
Fools rush in.The thought was there, and then it was gone, because we were standing up together, and Roman was taking me through the lounge, through a door and into a room simple as the Japanese rock garden I’d once imagined, painted white, the low bed covered in cream, the side tables pale wood and unadorned, the window looking out on ferns and the twisting trunk of a tree.
And above the bed, the only spot of color in the room, the painting.Breathe You in My Dreams.Suffused with rich pink, with the golden bird fluttering in an upper corner. Here for a fleeting minute, or here forever.
I noticed all that, and then I didn’t, because I was tipping back onto the bed with Roman’s hand behind my head, and he was coming down over me.
Kissing the lips I’d missed so much. Kissing them forever, while his hand, so strong and so sure, stroked over my shoulder, my arm, gentle as a whisper. My own hands on his body, under his soft T-shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin, wanting to bury myself in it, in him. Wanting to get closer. Breathing him in.
I’m not sure who took off my clothes. I only remember taking his off. The feel of the smooth leather of his belt under my fingers, the rough metal of his zipper, the fineness of the wool of his trousers.
The silky softness of his boxer briefs, and the heat of what was beneath them. The way his skin smelled when my lips were at his throat, like I’d told him on a day long ago. Dark and spicy and rich and sweet, like that bourbon we’d drunk the first night, on his bed, with my bare legs over his lap. Dangerous, but the kind of danger you need. The kind I’d always run from, because it was too strong and too unknown. Out of my control.
So, no, I don’t remember him taking off my clothes. I remember his hand in my hair, and his other hand around my upper arm, holding it over my head. The way his mouth felt on my skin, warm and so demanding now, and not rushing one bit. The way he felt moving over my body, big and strong and dangerous, if you were scared of falling into that pit. But if you were ready to let go, to surrender to it … so unbearably thrilling.
His hands around my thighs, and his mouth on me. Not able to go slow anymore, because the need in him was as strong as it was in me. Taking me up hard, like driving too fast, nearly out of control around the corners, your stomach dropping out from beneath you.
I’d never been loud in bed, had never let myself go like that. I didn’t recognize the sounds I made. I’d never heard them before. All I knew was, when it got too good, when I couldn’t stand it anymore … I was crying, and I was pulling him up with me.
When he looked into my eyes, I nearly lost it. I was still crying, and his hand was on my hair, gentle now, his voice saying, “Summer. It’s OK. It’s OK. I’m here.”
I took his hand and kissed it, and then I kissed his mouth. I tasted my tears, and I knew he did, too. “No,” I said. “It’s just … I love you so much. So much it hurts. And I need you. So—please, Roman. Please.”
Roman
All I could think was,I need you.All I could do was slide inside her and watch her eyes and mouth open wide at the sensation of it, then keep going. Her hands in mine, and then, when it was too much for her, her hands grabbing my shoulders, her legs wrapping around my waist, trying to get closer, even though I was inside her. I was stopping to kiss her, because I couldn’t do anything else, then starting up again like rowing across a lake. The effort of it, and the effortlessness as the water slides by under you. The power, and the control. And the agonizing moment when the control is gone.
Summer’s voice, the sound broken, agonized. Her spasms around me, pulling me under. The long groan I couldn’t help, and the way the sensation didn’t stop.
We hung there, suspended someplace beyond ourselves, in an orgasm so strong it nearly hurt. Like longing and pain and love, burning us down to ash. Dissolving us.
Murimuri aroha.
I couldn’t catchmy breath. I couldn’t slow my heart. All I could do was hold her. Which was why the thing she said next startled me so much.
“Have I been made for this?” she asked, her thumb tracing over the hollow of my throat. “To lie under the blankets and keep myself warm?”
“Marcus Aurelius.” I had to bury my face in her hair, then, and laugh. “OK. Why?”
“Maybe you have to choose danger sometimes,” she said. “In your careful life, your planned life, you still have to close your eyes and jump. I keep jumping with you. I could wonder why I’m suddenly so reckless, but I don’t think that’s the answer.”
“What’s the answer, then? I asked.
“We’re the answer,” she said. “For each other. We weren’t made to lie under the blankets and keep ourselves warm. We were made to live. To grow. To risk. To catch each other when we fall, and to hold each other close.”
All I could do was hold her, then. I knew how hard that had been to say, how hard it had been to feel. I said, “We were. And I forgot the condom.”
I felt her stiffen, and I felt her relax, too. “Planning hasn’t worked so well for me,” she said. “If I’ve learned anything, it’s that I can’t make it happen. Whatever it is. All I can do is do my best and let go. Which is a long way of saying that I want …”
“A baby,” I said, and for some reason, the thought didn’t terrify me.
“No,” she said, “or not exactly. Maybe I want …” Another heartbeat. Another breath. “Yours. I know it’s too soon. I know it’s the wrong plan. It’snoplan. And I need to laughnow, make a joke, let you get away, but I can’t. This is me. This is me, naked, telling you.”
“And this is me,” I said, my heart just about overflowing, “loving you back.”
“You hung it here,” she said. “My golden bird. Breathe You in My Dreams.”
