Then he's there, groaning against my neck, pulsing inside me as he comes.
It's more visceral.
It's way fucking hotter.
The feel of his orgasm pulls me toward the edge. But I'm not quite there. I dig my nails into his back, savoring the sounds of his bliss.
He pumps through his orgasm, then he untangles our bodies, he turns me onto my side, and he positions himself behind.
He slips his hand between my legs. "Can you take more?"
"Please."
And he rubs me exactly how I need him.
I come quickly, tugging at the sheets, groaning his name as the tension in my sex releases.
When I'm finished, I move his hand to my waist and I dissolve in his arms.
This feels good.
Way too good.
But, right now, I don't care.
I don't care about anything but feeling his body against mine.
ChapterThirty-Two
IMOGEN
We lie there for a long time. Eventually, I rise, shower, change into one of Patrick's shirts and a pair of his boxers.
I didn't plan on staying the night.
I didn't plan on screwing him.
I didn't plan beyondI'm ending things. And now I'm here and I'm continuing things and I don't know what the fuck I'm doing.
Just like when I tried to end everything. I had no idea what to do when I woke up. All of a sudden, I had this huge life I didn't know how to handle.
I didn't regret my attempt. It was the only option I saw.
Maybe my faith in systems is too strong, but that was how I saw it. Of all my available choices, there was only one guaranteed to end my pain.
With treatment, I realized there were other options. They weren't guarantees, but they didn't come with the same opportunity cost.
I really sound like an economist now. Life as opportunity cost. But that's why I love economics. Everything makes sense when it's broken into opportunity costs, profits, losses.
Add the psychology of behavioral economics and all of a sudden, people actually make sense.
But how does that knowledge help me now?
I'm here and I have this huge connection I don't know how to handle.
There's some dark humor here, but I'm too tired to find the pieces. The start of an entry forms in my head as Patrick showers.
Turns out I'm not great at ending things.