November 9: A Novel(48)

He nods, but it still seems as though there’s something else he wants to say. Or ask. And then I remember that we’ve never really had this discussion.

“I’ve never done this, but that doesn’t mean I’m not ready,” I tell him.

I feel his body stiffen, just slightly. “You’re a virgin.” He says it as more of a realization than a question.

“Yeah, but only for a few more minutes.”

My comment forces him to smile, but then worry consumes his expression. His eyes grow immediately sober and his smile falls into a grim line. He shakes his head softly. “I don’t want to be your first, Fallon. I want to be your last.”

I take in a quiet rush of air as his words sink in. He’s not even kissing me, and those words just made this moment a twelve. I touch his cheek with the tips of my fingers and smile up at him. “I want you to be my first and last.”

Ben’s eyes darken and then he slides his body over mine, caging me in with his arms. I can feel him hard against me and I try not to whimper. “You can’t say things like that unless you mean them, Fallon.”

I meant it with everything I am. For the first time, I realize that I don’t care about the five years. I don’t care that I’m not twenty-three. All I care about is Ben and how I feel when I’m with him, and how I want so much more of this. “I want you to be my only,” I say, my voice quieter, but with more resolve.

He winces as if he’s in pain, but I know by now that’s a good thing. A very good thing.

He brushes his thumb over my lips. “I want to be your only, Fallon. I want it more than anything. But it’s not happening tonight unless you promise me that I’ll be able to hear your voice tomorrow and every day that follows.”

I nod, surprised we’re having this conversation. I wasn’t anticipating this at all when I got on that flight this morning. But I know it’s right. I’m never going to meet anyone who makes me feel the way he does. People don’t get this lucky more than once in the same lifetime. “I promise.”

“I’m serious,” he says. “I want your phone number before you leave in the morning.”

I nod again. “You can have it. I want you to have it. And my email address. I’ll even go buy an all-in-one printer with a fax machine so I can give you that number, too.”

“Baby,” he says, his lips forming a smile. “You have already made this the best sex I’ve ever had, and I’m not even inside you yet.”

I bite my lip as I run my fingers up his arms, dragging them up his neck until I’m cupping his face. “What are you waiting for?”

He drags in a raspy breath. “To wake up, I think.” He lowers his mouth and kisses my neck. “I’m dreaming, right?”

I shake my head, just as he moves his hips against me. A moan escapes my mouth and the gentle kiss against my neck grows wilder.

“Definitely dreaming,” he mutters. His mouth meets the base of my throat and he touches the tip of his tongue to my skin, dragging it up my throat until he’s kissing me again. It’s by far the sexiest thing I’ve ever felt.

Seconds turn into minutes. Fingers turn into hands. Teasing turns into torture. Torture turns into unimaginable pleasure.

His boxers have met their fate on the floor. In an insurmountable display of willpower, he’s pressed against me, but still not inside me.

“Fallon,” he whispers, dragging his lips slowly across mine. “Thank you for this beautiful gift.”

As soon as his words brush over my mouth, he covers me in a deep kiss. My whole body tenses from the burst of pain that ripples through me as he pushes inside of me, but the perfection of the way we fit together makes the pain a mere inconvenience.

It’s beautiful.

He’s beautiful.

And somehow, with the way he’s looking down at me, I even believe I’m beautiful.

He presses his mouth against my ear and whispers, “No combination of written words could ever do this moment justice.”

I smile between moans. “How are you going to write about it, then?”

He kisses me, softly, right on the corner of my mouth. “I guess I’ll just have to fade to black . . .”

? ? ?

I’m not sure if sex is supposed to make you feel like you’ve just lost a part of yourself to the person inside you, but that’s exactly what it felt like. It felt as if the second we joined together, a tiny piece of our souls got confused and a piece of his fell into me and a piece of mine fell into him. It was by far the single most intense moment I’ve ever shared with another person.

I feel a warmth creeping up my face like I want to cry, but I keep the tears at bay. I just know that there’s no way I can tell him goodbye after this. It’ll tear me apart, way worse than last year. I can’t go another day without him being a part of my everyday life. Not after this.

His arm is wrapped around me, and even though it’s been several minutes and he’s already been to the bathroom and crawled back into bed, he’s still breathing like he was just inside me a matter of seconds ago. I like this part of sex, I think. The aftermath. The quiet. Still feeling connected after the physical connection is no longer there.

His lips meet my shoulder—the scarred one—and he places the gentlest kiss against my skin. So soft and thought out, it feels like so much more than just a kiss. It feels like a promise, and I’d give anything to be able to read his mind right now.