Ugly Love: A Novel(52)

He reaches between my legs, spreading them farther apart while freeing himself from his jeans. Both of his hands move to my waist and grip tightly. He steadies himself against me and then carefully eases himself inside me. “Oh, God,” he groans.

I press my palms flat out on the table. There’s nothing to grab hold of, and I desperately need to grab something.

He leans forward, pressing his chest against my back. His breaths are heavy and hot and crashing against my skin. “I have to get a condom.”

“Okay,” I breathe out.

He hasn’t backed away yet, though, and my body naturally wants to take him in the rest of the way. I press myself against him, pushing him further inside me, causing him to dig his fingers into my hips so hard I wince.

“Don’t, Tate.”

His voice is a warning.

Or a dare.

I do it again, and he groans, quickly pulling out of me completely. His hands are still digging into my hips, and he’s still pressed against me—he’s just no longer inside me.

“I’m on the pill,” I whisper.

He doesn’t move.

I close my eyes, needing him to do something. Anything. I’m dying here.

“Tate,” he whispers. He doesn’t follow it up with anything. We stand quietly still, with him in the same position, poised right outside me.

“Dammit.” He releases my waist and finds my hands palms-down on the table. He slides his fingers through mine and squeezes, then buries his face against my neck from behind me. “Brace yourself.”

He slams into me so unexpectedly I scream. One of his hands leaves mine, and he brings it to my mouth and covers it. “Shh,” he warns. He holds still, giving me a moment to adjust to him inside me.

He pulls out with a moan and slams into me again, causing me to yell out once more. His hand muffles my noises this time.

He repeats his movements.

Harder.

Faster.

He’s grunting with every thrust, and I’m making noises I didn’t even know I could make. I’ve never experienced anything like this before.

I didn’t know it could be this intense. This raw. This animalistic.

I lower my face and press my cheek against the table.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

I let him fuck me.

???

It’s quiet.

It’s so quiet, and I don’t know if it’s because we were both so loud just a few seconds ago or if he just needs a minute to recover.

He’s still inside me, but he’s finished. He’s just not moving. One of his hands is still covering my mouth, the other still squeezing my fingers. His face is still buried against my neck.

But he’s so incredibly still I’m afraid to move. I don’t even feel him breathing.

The first thing to move is his hand, away from my mouth. He unlocks his fingers from mine and straightens them, pulling them slowly apart from mine. He presses both palms against the table and lifts his face away from my neck. He pulls out of me without a sound.

It’s still too quiet, so I don’t move.

I hear him as he pulls his pants back into position and zips them.

I hear his footsteps as he walks away.

He’s walking away.

His bedroom door slams shut, and I flinch. My cheek and palms and stomach are still flat against his table, but now so are my tears.

They’re falling.

Falling, falling, falling, and I can’t stop them.

I’m embarrassed. I’m ashamed. I don’t have a clue what the hell is wrong with him, but I have too much pride and too little courage to go find out.

This felt like an end. I’m not sure I was ready for this to be the end. I’m not sure I was ready for there ever to be an end, and I hate myself for allowing my feelings to get to that point.

I’m also angry because here I am, standing in his apartment, looking for my pants, trying to stop my ridiculous tears, still feeling the remnants of him sliding down my leg, and I have no fucking clue why he had to ruin it.

Ruin me.

I finish getting dressed, and I leave.





chapter twenty


MILES


Six years earlier

“You’re getting an outie,” I tell her. I run my fingers over her bare stomach, and I kiss it. “It’s cute.”

I press my ear to her skin and close my eyes. “I bet he’s lonely in there,” I say. “Are you lonely in there, buddy?”

Rachel laughs. “You keep calling him a boy. What if he’s a girl?”

I tell Rachel whatever he is, I’ll love him the same. I already love him.

Or her.

Our parents are out of town. We’re playing house again, except this time, we aren’t really playing. It’s kind of serious.

“So what happens if he really does propose to her this time?” she asks.

I tell her not to worry. I tell her he’s not proposing. He would ask me first before he did it. I know that much about him.

“We have to tell them,” I say to her.

She nods. She knows we have to tell them. It’s been three months. We graduate in two. She’s starting to show.

She’s getting an outie. It’s cute.

“We should tell them tomorrow,” I say.

She says okay.

I move away from her stomach and lie beside her. I pull her against me. I touch her face.