Page 95 of The Affair
“No. No food.”
As his hands curled around my waist, I felt that same flutter of anticipation I got whenever he touched me. It was addictive.
“Tell me what you want, Elle.”
Standing on my tiptoes, I leaned upward and gently kissed him. It was a slow, sensual kiss that I felt all the way down to my toes. “You,” I answered. “I just want you.”
As his hands slid down, cupping my ass, he whispered, “Say it again.”
“I want you.”
My words were like fuel for him, driving him wild. One second, we were standing in the middle of the room, and the next, his hands were hoisting me off the ground. Instinctively, my legs wrapped around him as my back hit the wall closest to us. Pinned, I felt his body react to mine.
It was electric.
The whole room could have ignited from the way he looked at me. We made quick work of our clothing, tossing it to the floor with reckless abandon. I’d never been a prude when it came to sex, giving myself over completely to the moment. I’d thought I knew everything there was to know about sex, but being with Sawyer? It made me feel like I was learning the art of love for the first time.
Everything was new. His touch, his taste. Being with him was like nothing else I’d ever experienced, and I never wanted to go another day without it.
He took me right there against the wall, our bodies moving together in perfect tandem. I forgot about everything, except him and me.
Gone were the worries over the store and my mom. The anxiety and fear I’d felt earlier that day dissipated with every thrust. Every moan.
Every cry of passion.
He was mine, and I was his. And that was all that mattered.
* * *
I’d always beena lover of history. Growing up in my house, it was hard for me not to be somewhat infatuated with the past. When I was younger, I’d had all sorts of grandiose dreams of being a world-renowned historian or some sort of adventurous archaeologist like Indiana Jones.
But then Reed had happened, and my big plans didn’t seem so important anymore. The idea of leaving the small town I’d grown up in seemed ludicrous to a young teenager in love. My plans had changed and shifted to accommodate someone else, but I never lost my love for the past.
Entering the flea market that next day, I realized just how much I’d been missing out on. Here, on the side of some random highway in North Carolina, there was an entire community filled with people just like me.
There were vendors selling everything from vintage clothing to priceless antiques, and I couldn’t wait to see it all.
“Whoa.” Sawyer chuckled. “Slow down, crazy pants.”
Smiling, I tried to rein myself in. “Sorry. I’m just a little excited.”
“I get that, but we have all day. Take your time.”
“I don’t know where to start,” I said, taking a survey of the first few rows.
It was a sea of white tents, all filled with treasures waiting to be claimed.
“Pretzel stand?” he suggested, motioning across the way.
“We just ate breakfast!” I reminded him.
“Yeah, but that was an hour ago.”
Laughing, I let him lead the way. I decided to forgo the morning pretzel but did take him up on a cup of coffee.
Walking hand in hand, we began our hunt. He nibbled on his pretzel while I soaked up the caffeine, and soon, we had a casual rhythm, bouncing from tent to tent while I mentally made a list of everything I wanted to buy.
“I’m going to go broke,” I moaned after an hour or two. “Who knew flea markets would be the end of me?” I laughed. “My mom had no idea what she was missing out on.”
