The Lie(55)

I’m coming.

I’m…

And then I’m off like a bomb.

Crying unintelligible words.

My body convulses violently, spasming around him.

It’s so good, it’s too good.

I never want anything else. Anyone else.

Just this, this, this.

Him.

All the time.

His neck cranes, head back, jaw tense as he grinds his teeth together. He comes, and I watch with a sense of relief and wonderment that I’m doing this to him. His face is pinched in a mix of rapture and anguish, and he’s swearing in a low guttural voice, his grip on my hips so hard I think he’s going to leave plum-colored bruises.

“Fuck,” he swears as he slows his pumping. He’s shaking. I’m shaking. His eyes flit over my body in a daze, sex-soaked and spent. I stare up at him, and it’s like looking through a dream.

It hits me slowly, like dissipating smoke, what exactly we’ve done and what it means to me. I hate how sex can complicate things. I hate how it sometimes causes feelings to erupt where there were no feelings.

But I know that’s not the case with us. We came upon each other with raw emotions still intact, maybe buried, maybe not, but they were deep and vibrant and waiting. All of our feelings—at least all of my feelings—have a firm root in the ground, and now that we’ve had sex—we’ve had sex—and he’s been inside of me, we’ve experienced each other in a way I never ever thought possible. Everything is heightened.

And yet I know it’s coming from somewhere. I know it’s valid. And that’s scary. That’s terrifying.

He pulls out of me, and I’m immediately hollow. I want to keep him inside. My terror builds as he retreats, brow furrowed as he slips the condom off, and I want reassurance that the world isn’t ending. I need to feel that this wasn’t a one-time fling, that I’m not alone and adrift. The urge for his contact is unbearable.

Brigs throws the condom in the trash and stares down at me in a mix of worry and amazement.

“Hey,” he says gently, his voice thick. He reaches down and slowly pulls me up by my waist and shoulders like I’m a ragdoll. His longer fingers press against my cheeks as he holds me in place, searching my eyes. “Are you okay?”

I can’t speak. I can only swallow, though it’s like bread crusts are lodged in my throat. I nod.

He rubs his lips together, looking worried. I don’t want him to be worried, I don’t want him to regret anything.

“Natasha,” he says softly. “If…I didn’t want to complicate things. I’m so sorry if—”

I clear my throat. “No,” I tell him, my hands curling over his biceps. “It’s not that. I’m just…it’s a lot to take.” He frowns, pained, and I quickly add, “In a good way. I’m just…overcome. By everything.”

He nods and rests his forehead against mine, still damp with sweat. “I don’t want you to regret anything. I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole entire life for what just happened.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Darling, yes,” he whispers, kissing me softly. “The last thing I want is to lose you again, not when I’ve finally had you.” He strokes the side of my cheek and stares at me imploringly. “Tell me that meant something to you.”

“It meant everything to me,” I whisper. “I don’t even know how to come down.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up in a smile. I can’t believe I have permission to kiss that mouth. Impulsively, I lay my lips on his then laugh giddily. He grips my face harder, blessing me with that wide, gorgeous smile of his, and in his eyes I see joy. Pure, beautiful joy.

Then a knock at the door.

Both of us jump, eyeing each other with our breaths in our throats.

I had closed the door, but it isn’t locked.

“Just one minute, please,” Brigs barks, his voice cracking.

We frantically try and get dressed. I only have my jeans on, and he only has his shirt and underwear when he motions for me to get behind the door.

I quickly scurry over, flattening myself against the wall, while he positions himself behind the door so that when he opens it, the person on the other side can’t see anything but his face and a hint of his upper body.

He gives me a look, warning me to be quiet, and then slowly opens the door a crack, poking his head out.

“Yes?” he says. His voice is so calm and smooth it’s hard to imagine what had just happened.

“Sorry to bug you.” For f*ck’s sake, it’s Melissa’s voice. “I was wondering if you had a moment to help me with the upcoming tutorial.”

Brigs’ whole manner stiffens.

I hold my breath.

“I’m busy at the moment.” He says this so harshly I wonder if it’s because he’s caught off-guard or if he doesn’t like Melissa.

“Doing what?” she asks. I don’t like the tone of her voice. It’s too prying, too casual.

“I’ll see you in class,” he says and immediately shuts the door, locking it. He leans against it, his head hanging down, taking in a deep breath. I don’t say anything, not yet, not until I’m sure she’s gone.

If he contacts you, I’ll report him, Melissa had said. Just how serious was she? I don’t want to find out.