Biting my tongue like a good guest, I force a smile. He goes on, talking about the four kegs—four!—that will be arriving tomorrow morning. Again, I nod and smile. It’s what I do when he talks about his one bad habit.
By the time we’re finished eating, I’m ready to go hang out with everyone.
He stands and starts cleaning up, and I help him, staying with the rhythm we’ve found too easily. He kisses me again just as I turn on the dishwasher, and my back hits the counter behind me.
When he lifts me, I wrap my arms around his neck, enjoying how right it all feels to have his hands on me. It’s too easy, too effortless, and it makes it too hard not to fall a little deeper with each passing day.
I don’t protest when he starts stripping me out of my clothes, and he helps me push his away, since my countertop position restricts some of my reach. By the time he’s thrusting into me, I’m holding back things I shouldn’t say, things that would show him everything going on inside me.
By the time he’s finished with me, I’m still working hard not to tell him every girly emotion going on inside me, filled to the brim with things I wish I wasn’t too scared to say. I blame it on the multiple orgasms. Everything is always harder to contain after orgasms.
Ethan presses his forehead against mine, opening his mouth as though he’s going to speak, when his phone starts blaring music. He curses before pulling out of me, and I gather my wits, promising to myself not expose too much.
He’s still a party boy, and I’m supposed to be waiting it out until he’s ready for more. As he answers the phone, I go to clean up and start getting ready to meet the others, running a straightener through my mostly dry hair now.
When Ethan joins me in the bedroom, he looks like he’s annoyed.
“The plumber is finally coming over to start the job tomorrow. He said it’ll take him about four days to finish up, unless he runs into any problems.”
Disappointment hits me unexpectedly, and I try to swallow down the inane emotion. I knew this was temporary, but it felt so real and I don’t want to give it up now.
“Alright,” I force myself to say.
Ethan doesn’t look me in the eye, but he comes up behind me, pressing against me. It feels like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he kisses the top of my head, and walks out to go get ready, while I try not to call the plumber and beg him to take his time.
It’s ridiculous to feel like we’re taking a step back, when really this was only ever temporary. I blame the orgasms again when I feel like moping. I really have to get a handle on myself, because while Ethan may be ready for a monogamous relationship, he’s not ready for
the sort of commitment that comes with living together. And really, we’ve only been together for a couple of months, so it’s way too soon.
Too soon, yeah. Tell that to the irrational part of my mind that is screaming at me to tell him things I shouldn’t be feeling.
Chapter 51
ETHAN
The party wasn’t as much fun as I’d hoped it would be, and that was a few days ago. Bella spent most of the night locked in our bedroom—my bedroom, rather. Not ours. Fuck. Why does it feel wrong to let her go back to her house?
She claimed to have a headache, but I could tell she just didn’t want to be there with everyone crowding up my house. In truth, I lost interest way too early, and ended up joining her in the bedroom, leaving the party to security as I lost myself in my girl all night instead.
Hence the reason I know the headache was bullshit, because she willingly took all I had to give for hours, and if I had been capable of more, she would have taken that too. Insatiable vixen.
And the fucking plumber finished early, so today she’s moving back to her house. Like the bitch I am, I’m helping her move her shit back in, even though I really don’t fucking like it.
I got used to having her with me all the time. Never realized that sort of shit could be fun, but I actually liked watching her cook and eating at the table together like a scene from a family sitcom. I also got used to my house smelling like her, and having her in the shower with me. Now there’s a ton of space on my bathroom counter, and it just looks pretty damn pathetic.
“You going to be able to sleep without me?” I joke, trying not to admit I’m the one who is going to miss having her coiled around me every single night with her head pillowed on my arm or chest.
She gives me a half-hearted smile that seems strained, and I wonder if she’s dreading this too. Would it be stupid to try and move her back in with me?
Shit. I spent forever fantasizing what freedom would be like, and then Bella came along and fucked up all my long-laid plans. Now it’s like I’m addicted to her or something, and it’s just not as much fun without her.
“I had no idea I took so many things to your place,” she says instead of answering me, looking around at the numerous boxes and suitcases we’ve scattered about her house. “And it feels like my house shrunk after being in your big one for so long,” she adds jokingly, trying to lighten my mood.
It doesn’t work.
I hate this, and I have no idea what to do about it.
Moving her in with me seems ridiculous to even attempt on a real, long-term basis. But I had no idea how right it would feel, and now it’s not easy to give up.