Page 106 of The Worst Guy Ever
“I missed you too,” I confess into his mouth and he groans deeply, surging forward, his orgasm spilling forth until he stills inside me.
We stare at each other, two abandoned souls finding a new home in the dark. Eventually, he rolls to his side, taking me with him. His big, warm hands stroke up and down my back, smoothing my hair, keeping me safe as I come down from my high.
“The way you kiss should be illegal,” I laugh, when I’ve caught my breath. “I’m addicted now. Do it again.”
Chapter 47
Hattie
Robperchesontheedge of the bed, fresh coffee in hand. I prop myself up against the pillows and pull the sheets up to cover my chest. Spending the entire night naked in Rob’s arms is good, spending the day in A&E after scalding myself with hot liquid is not.
“Are you really seeing a therapist?” he asks, smoothing out the covers beside him. “Or did you just say that to wind me up?”
“I am,” I say, taking that first delicious sip and leaning back to observe his reaction. I didn’t plan on telling him last night, but I knew we’d need to talk about it at some point. It doesn’t feel so scary now it’s out there. If anyone understands, it will be him.
“How is it?”
“Terrifying. Enlightening. Makes me want to throw up, but I’m sticking with it. Turns out Ialsoshould have done it a long time ago.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you, I’m proud of me, too,” I say, smiling into the cup. “What time is it?”
He checks his phone. “Ten thirty. Do you need to be somewhere?”
“Nope.” I set my coffee down on his nightstand, wrap my arms around his neck and guide him back into my arms. “I’m right where I want to be.”
“It’s not like this with other men,” I say afterwards. I’m propped up on his mountain of pillows, and Rob’s head rests against my chest, my fingers stroking lazy circles through his hair.
“What do you mean?”
“With them it’s just sex and then I go. With you and me it’s...” I trail off because I still don’t know how to explain it properly, this thing between us. In my head it’s crystal clear, but to confess that, open myself up and ask if it’s the same for him, that’s far too terrifying.
“With you and me, it’s all out of order,” he says, tightening his arm around my waist and pulling me further down the bed. “We hated each other, then I got to know you, hated you a little less, then we became sort of friends, then the sex happened, and now here we are.”
“I never hated you.”
“You’re such a beautiful little liar.” He trails soft kisses along my collarbone. “You couldn’t stand me.”
“I think I had good reason. You were so rude the first time we met. You took one look at me and assumed I was single and unloveable. It made me feel awful.”
He drops his forehead to the pillow next to me then pulls back, pushing my hair away from my face, forcing me to look into his eyes. “All I knew was that one of you was single. I walked into that room and hoped to God it was you. I never once thought you were unloveable, I think I was falling for you even then.”
“Ew,” I tease, but press my lips to his until I feel him smile against me. “I’m sorry I called you a man-whore. That was very rude and judgemental of me. I felt attacked, and I got defensive.”
“I’m sorry I called you a slut. I’ve always regretted it. You must know that by now?”
I let out a long sigh. I’d shrugged his words off, but they hurt more than I’d ever let on. I’ve come to realise that from the moment I laid eyes on him, I wanted him to see me differently from the way other men do. Not as a conquest or a bet to be won. As someone worthy of more than a one-night stand. More than I’ve ever been to anyone else.
“I mean it Hattie, it was the stupidest thing I’ve ever said. I was completely taken aback when I saw you, and I’d never felt like that with anyone. I was nervous, I wanted to find some common ground, and I blew it. I think you’re amazing. I always have.”
I press my hand to his cheek, and my lips to the corner of his mouth. “Apology accepted. I forgave you a long time ago.”
We lie like that for a while, a tangle of limbs, hands roaming, eyes watching. His teeth worry at his lower lip, and I know he’s holding back on something.
“What are you thinking?” I whisper. “You can tell me.”
He swallows thickly and curls a strand of my hair around his finger. “I know I’m pushing my luck, but where’s your head at on the whole relationship thing?”
