The Fastest Way to Fall(82)

It was so freeing to get to talk about this. I couldn’t believe he was so unbothered. “Four years. I’ve wanted to tell you about it.”

“I knew you were an excellent writer after I looked through your notebook in your apartment.” He dropped kisses on my shoulder, these sweet little pecks that made me want to pause and write an ode to his lips. It was as if someone had opened up a valve in Wes and now all this affection was flowing out of him.

“Oh yeah? My doodles inspired you?”

“You could say that.” His breath puffed near my ear, and a trickle of anticipation eased down my body. “I read a haiku you wrote about touching yourself.”

“What? No!” I tried to turn to face him, but he held me tight. “I can’t believe you read that!”

He nipped at the sensitive skin below my ear. “I committed it to memory. On a precipice, my fingers, like your soft tongue, edging me closer.”

My entire body flashed hot. “Well, that’s embarrassing.”

“Informative,” he said into my neck. “I’m very interested in using my tongue to take you to a precipice.”

“I can’t believe you never told me you read that, or that you wanted to know anything else about me after!”

“I want to know everything. How do you take your fancy coffee?”

I smiled. “How do I like my coffee, or how do I pretend to like it since meeting you?”

His laugh rumbled against my shoulder, and he squeezed me to him. “Both.”

“Skim milk and two stevia packets,” I began, feeling his nod against my skin.

“And how do you really like it?”

I turned in his arms. “Caramel latte with whipped cream and a little chocolate sauce. Maybe a donut on the side.”

My breath hitched when his thumbs slid in slow circles over my thigh. “You like when I touch you there?” he murmured against my shoulder.

“I do,” I said, as his lips migrated to my ear. “But I was reacting to the memory of the latte.”

“A guy’s pride can only take so much.” He began the slow circles between my waist and hips again, fingers kneading, then venturing to caress my backside. “You can still drink the lattes. Maybe I’ll have one, too. I can think of some new cardio I’ll be adding to my rotation.”

“Always in coach mode, huh?”

He gave me a small smile, eyes still roaming over my features. “It’ll be hard to remember I’m not your coach anymore.” Wes’s hazel eyes were still leveled with mine, his expression hopeful, with small traces of concern at the corners of his eyes like he was waiting for the sky to fall. I traced a fingertip over his cheekbone. The way he nestled his cheek against my hand, the vulnerability in that action, convinced me I’d made the right call to tell him when I had.

“Do you want to talk about work now?”

“Okay.” He nodded slowly.

Our naked bodies were pressed together, and the echo of his “I love you” still hung in the air. I swallowed. “I really am sorry I didn’t tell you sooner about the magazine,” I said, gathering my courage and looking him in the eyes. “I’ll . . . I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’ll make it right.”

He searched my face, tracing his fingertip down my side. “We’ll make it work. I can’t imagine many people would care, and maybe you can disclose that you’re in a relationship with me.”

I hadn’t thought about us in those terms yet, and a smile spread across my face, which triggered a smile across his face, and then we were lying there grinning like we were telling jokes and not weighing our ethical missteps.

“If you want to, of course.”

“I’ll disclose it,” I said, unable to stop the smile. “Our relationship.”

“It shouldn’t be that big a deal, right? I’m excited it’s you writing it, but it’s not like a hard-hitting exposé or something, is it?”

A small hurt crept in again, because he was right. I wasn’t breaking some big scandal, even if it felt big to me. “No, but we should have a plan. Ground rules.”

“I can do ground rules.”

“Exactly.” I rested my palm against his chest, the steady beat of his heart so close to me. “Can we hit pause on deciding anything? I need to think through this and talk to someone at work.” I dreaded the conversation I’d need to have with Natalie, but despite my worry, my lips tipped up of their own accord. “I want to do it right.”

Wes dipped his chin and brushed his lips against mine. “Okay.” His hand settled possessively at my back, and he kissed me again. They were the lazy, unhurried kisses we could share because we had time.

I sighed when our lips parted. Everything was out in the open, we were really doing this, and I felt light. “I can’t believe how perfect this feels.”





50





AFTER AN EARLY-MORNING run—and post-run shower—with Britta, I walked into the office with a spring in my step and the taste of her kiss on my lips. I finished tapping out my text in the elevator, ignoring the pile of missed calls. It had felt so good to put FitMi away for the weekend, and I wanted it to last a little longer.


Wes: I know we’re not talking about work yet, but I’m glad it’s you writing about the mentoring program. I haven’t been this excited about something (besides you) in a long time.