I stare at him for a moment.
"Did you say you'd never been in love before?"
That's the worst possible thing to say, at this moment, but I can't let it go.
"Yeah," he says, softly, warily. He doesn't like that I'm fixated, he wants me to hear what he's saying. And I do. But there's one more thing I need to hear.
"Before what?" I whisper.
He gives me a look. "Don't."
"I'm not playing games," I insist, my hand drifting to the side of his face, more or less without my permission. "I heard every word you said, Adrian. But you glossed over the most important part."
"That doesn't make it better," he says, roughly. "If anything, it makes it worse. Don't let that be the reason why you…"
"It's not," I tell him, stroking his cheek, feeling the beginnings of stubble in the smooth areas scratching against my palm. "God damn, you're almost as stubborn as I am."
He lets out a little almost-laugh. "Maybe that's why we get along so well."
"I like that you challenge me," I said, softly. "The way you do it is pretty fucked-up, sometimes, but I'm better for it now. Once I got some distance, I could see that."
He shakes his head, that little worried stitch appearing between his eyebrows. "I messed you up, Meg. You already told me that."
"I was messed up long before we met." I half-smile. "You've talked to my parents. There's no hope for me to be normal and well-adjusted. I stuck with you because it was exactly the kind of fucked-up I needed in my life. I have a new boss now, you know. He's nice. He's really nice and reasonable and I'm crawling out of my skin in that fucking job. I miss you."
An eyebrow goes up. "A new boss?" he asks, suspiciously.
I giggle softly. "He's sixty-five years old, happily married, with three kids."
"I don't trust him," Adrian growls. "He's got eyeballs, doesn't he?"
Sighing, I scoot in close again. "Focus. Did you hear me? I said I miss you."
"I heard you." He holds onto me tightly, silently, for a moment.
"I don't want you to be an asshole," I tell him. "That's not what I need from you. But I do want you in my life. I want you to push me and challenge me, as long as you let me push back. You need somebody to call you on your shit. I won't be your conscience, because that's fucked-up and condescending and I deserve better than that. But I will stand by your side. And when you tell me to, I'll kneel at your feet. Because I want to. Because I like the way it feels when you look at me that way. Like I'm the only thing in the world that matters."
I take a deep breath.
"I love you, Adrian. I sincerely hope you won't hold that against me."
He chuckles softly, and some deep sense of relief bursts inside my chest.
"You know what this is going to be like, right?" He kisses my forehead. "We're going to fight all the time. When there's nothing to fight about, we're going to fight about how long it's been since we had a fight."
"Uh huh." I snuggle against him. "And then we'll fuck it out of our systems and start over the next day."
"Sounds exhausting."
"I hope you're up for it." I grin, lifting my face up to his, and he meets me halfway. Our noses brush against each other.
"The real question is, are you?" He slides his hand down to the small of my back, a gentle possessive touch. "The noises you were making earlier, I thought you were gonna pass out. Or maybe expel a demon. Are you sure you can take that kind of stress every day?"
"You're so fucking pleased with yourself." I hook my leg around his hip, feeling him twitch and harden at the silent invitation. "I swear to God, it's like you never made a girl come before."
With a sudden burst of movement, he flips me onto my back, and I squeal with surprise and laughter, only to feel my voice break into a moan as he slides into me again, so slow and perfect. Five heartbeats pass before he's buried deep, and I let out a throaty laugh, my head thrown back into the pillows.
"Promise me you'll never stop talking to me like that," he whispers, not moving. Not yet.
"I promise." I swallow hard, feeling like my heart's about to escape from my chest. "So long as you never stop doing this."
"Like I could." He smiles, starting to move in a slow, deliberate rhythm. My whole body tenses, and I whimper softly, wanting so much more, harder, faster.
"Is this okay, baby?" He looks at me with concern. He thinks I'm still sore. Ha. Well, I am, not that's not the problem. It's a sweet ache, and it makes everything even better.
"Yeah," I whisper. "More." And that makes him smile.
"I gotta be gentle with you from time to time, sweetheart." He kisses me swiftly. "Otherwise you won't appreciate it when I'm rough."
Curling my fingers around the back of his neck, I pull his face to mine. "Listen to me. This is very important. Okay? I want you to know this." My breath catches in my throat as my body warms and melts to him. I whisper into his mouth: "You. Are. The. Worst."
"I am," he murmurs against my lips. "But at least I love you."
Chapter Nineteen
INBOX
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Face down, ass up.
I'll be home in an hour.
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Okay, Pitbull.
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LINK: YouTube - Summer of 69 - Bryan Adams
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LINK: YouTube - I Would Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That) - Meat Loaf
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LINK: YouTube - Liar - Mumford and Sons
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