Page 68 of I Hear You

Our Ferris wheel basket makes it to the very top of its rotation and we slowly come to a stop. I look at Ender and he’s smiling sweetly at me.

“Did you do this?” I ask.

“I may have slipped him some extra cash,” he admits.

We’re staring into each other's eyes and I wonder what he’s thinking. He doesn’t keep me wondering long.

“Mads, I am so sorry for everything you’ve been through. Not just what you’ve been through the past few days with your mom and those journals. I’m sorry for what I’ve put you through. I hope you’ll let me spend every day trying to make it up to you. I’ll do whatever it takes to show you how much I want to be with you, and not just physically the way we have been. Although, that’s amazing too and I will always want to rip your clothes off—”

He’s tracing his thumb across my jaw now, stopping at my lips and running the calloused skin across them, then continues his trail down my neck and over my collar bone. It’s giving me butterflies and goosebumps, making my heart race. I’m grateful for the distraction when he continues talking.

“I want to be able to show you every day how much I love you–how madly in love with you I am. If you’ll let me.”

I wish I could record everything he’s just said to me and carry it around the way I did his letter. I’m not too worried about it though because I have a feeling I’ll be hearing things like this from him a lot more often now.

“I love you so much Ender.”

He lets out a breath he was holding and leans forward, covering my mouth with his. The kiss isn’t needy or hurried. It isn’t filled with the same “I want to be inside of you” passion like other kisses we’ve shared. This one is soft and slow, with just our lips parting. His lips ever so gently sucking on mine. This kiss is showing me his love, not just his desire. This kiss is the perfect top of the Ferris wheel kiss.

The restaurant Ender takes me to is really nice, one of the nicest I’ve been to. I have yet to admit to him this is my first date. We order dinner, and it’s incredibly delicious. I think Ender’s nervous too because we haven’t really talked much since we sat down at the restaurant. Even though the date started before we got here, this part is so much more formal than the carnival, so much more typical of a first date. We’ve just finished our entrees when the waitress comes over, a beautiful blonde girl about our age with sparkling hazel eyes. Her figure is like the ones you’d find in fashion magazines.

“Can I get you guys some dessert?” she asks.

Ender never takes his eyes off mine, doesn’t look at her once.

“We’ll take the chocolate cake with a side of your homemade chocolate syrup and some strawberries,” he says assertively, staring at me with a hunger in his eyes. “To go please.”

I squeeze my legs together because the look he’s giving me is nothing short of smoldering.

Ender reaches across the tables and takes my hand, slowly rubbing circles on it with his thumb.

“You haven’t talked much,” I say.

“Did you do as I asked?”

My cheeks burn and I push my legs together tighter as he reminds me I’m not wearing anything under my dress. He gives me a knowing smirk and leans toward me.

His voice is low and husky.

“If I start talking they’ll kick me out for the things I want to say to you.”

I let out the faintest moan, unable to control myself. He moves to the empty chair next to me so we’re sitting side by side while we wait for our dessert and the check. He scoots closer to me, placing an arm around me on the back of the chair.

His other hand goes to my bare knee under the table. He slowly moves it up my leg, veering inward when he meets the hem of my dress. I can barely breathe. I can not believe he’s doing this here.

“Ender!” I mutter under my breath

“Shhhhh.”

How is he able to hide any emotion from his face? I fear if you take one look at me, you’ll know exactly what is going on. I look around the restaurant frantically. There are only a few tables occupied, and they all seem to be paying no attention to us.

His hand makes it past the bottom of my dress and I part my legs almost against my own will. His fingers meet my sex and he leans his lips to my ear.

“You are dripping,” he growls.

I don’t say a word. I’m too busy focusing on controlling my breathing.

One finger dips into me slowly, and the faintest moan escapes me.

---