“It's going to hurt.”
“Go slow.”
“I’ll be gentle with you.” This is our first time, but we're reading one another's bodies and taking this all by instinct, and somehow it works. Somehow, we know innately what we're supposed to do. Come together and move as one.
And when it happens, when he enters me fully, I cry out. I cling to him and he kisses me, holds me, makes me his.
“Oh my god,” I murmur against him, sweaty, naked, beaming with pride and pleasure.
He kisses me, full stop.
And I let go in a way I never have before. We move as one until we both come.
We move and we let go and then we start all over again.
Because the night is young and the clock hasn't struck midnight.
And I'm going to fuck this man or make love to this guy or whatever you want to call it. We don’t need a label tonight. Tonight, we are just going to give in to what we want.
That's my only birthday wish.
8
ANCHOR
In the morning, I roll over and find the other side of the bed empty. Lemon’s left. I find a note in the kitchen.
Anchor,
Thank you for the best birthday eve of my life.
I had to go home and shower. Something you didn't know about me—I'm a very early riser. Turns out you like to sleep in and snore. ;)
Coffee on the patio when you wake?
Xo, L
I adjust my aching morning hard-on, unable—and not wanting—to wipe the grin off my face. Opening my fridge, I'm happy to find a bottle of prosecco and a jug of orange juice. I reach for two champagne flutes, adding the items to a basket I'm planning to carry on over to Lemon’s. Remembering a package of croissants I bought a few days ago, I add them to the basket.
I want her to know last night was not a one-time thing. I'm not that kind of guy.
I have a feeling she's not that kind of girl.
The connection we felt is nothing short of incredible. Life changing. And god, I can’t wait to see her.
I jog back up the stairs, pulling on a pair of grey sweats and reaching for a hoodie.
I pull open my sliding glass door. When I step outside, the morning air is crisp. The lake before us is pristine, smooth, and the sun is high in the sky, the sky blue above, and I know it's gonna be a good fucking day.
“Hey sleepyhead,” Lemon calls over to me. She is next door, on her back porch.
She has a coffee mug in her hand and she's wearing a bathrobe. Her hair is half dried and there's not a stitch of makeup on her face. She looks gorgeous, bright-eyed and alive. I want to wrap my arms around her like I've never wanted anything.
I tell myself to walk toward her cool, calm, and collected, but by the time I reach her I can't resist planting a kiss on those perfect lips of hers. “Happy birthday, Lemon Rough. I brought the champagne.”
“Ooh, wow. Lucky me. But if I remember correctly, you wished me a happy birthday last night.”
“I want to say it all day. Happy birthday,” I repeat.
She smiles up at me. “Do you want coffee to go with the champagne?”
“Sounds good,” I tell her.
“What do you take with your morning coffee?'' she asks over her shoulder as I follow her into her family lake house.
I've never stepped foot in here and I'm curious what a lake house for a family her size looks like. Mine is modern and sleek.
The moment I step foot in this place, I feel like I’m home. This lake house is nothing but comfort. Cozy, familiar. Which is saying something considering it's my first time here.
“I don't take anything with my morning coffee. I'm not particular about too much.”
She smiles. “I take my coffee black too. Look at us, we're so easygoing.”
“Is that what everyone would say about you?” I ask.
She laughs, handing me a mug of Joe. “Probably not. Though I'm much less particular than my little sister Fig. She is all drama, all the time.”
“In a bad way?” I ask.
Lemon shakes her head. “No, she is lovely. She’s dramatic but in a way that makes everything heightened. Better. Larger than life. I love her to death. And I can't believe she's graduating this year.” She turns to me. “Which makes me think, you haven't exactly told me anything about you. I mean, your family. You said there isn't any but—”
I clear my throat, forcing myself to push forward and not retreat like I usually do when things get personal. Lemon makes me want to set my comfort zone aside, permanently. “I lost them when I was young.”
“I'm so sorry,” Lemon says softly, her hand on my arm.
I shrug. “I was raised by my aunt and uncle. They live in Bend, Oregon. They're good people but they weren't close with my parents. They never felt like family. They felt like people who were looking after me. They were older than my mom and dad by quite a bit, and I feel like they were just doing their duty as opposed to raising me as their own. If that makes sense?”