16. Everleigh

Chapter sixteen

Everleigh

D arius’ eyes widen. Because, yeah, I just went there. Way the hell out of the friend zone. Alarms are blaring for me, too. “I can’t lose the company, Ev. It’s everything my dad worked for. He built it from nothing, and he wanted it to be passed down to us. I can’t get locked out or do that to my brothers and sisters. It’s not about the money for me. I have a degree, and I’d be okay even if I had to bike to work every single morning. But if we didn’t have that agreement hanging over us…if we weren’t running on borrowed time and were just two people who met and liked each other… if I said I was thinking about kissing you too?”

I’ve got to be honest here, yet again, even if it kills me. “I’ve been thinking more about your nipples.”

“Ahh.” He takes that in perfect stride.

“And the peanut butter thing. And what we did in the kitchen.”

“Okay.”

“Can I kiss you, Daddy D?”

“For the love of jelly, do not call me that.”

I tumble into him, and he catches me. His arms wrap around me and stop my descent into him, transforming it into something else as he pulls me close and tips my face up. His kiss is a crush, a relentless energy that flows through me and makes me feel alive. He kisses me until I can’t breathe. And when we stop, we’re both breathing like a herd of elephants after a stampede.

“Can you do that again?” I whisper raggedly, pleading and begging. “Can we do that again? Because that was really good. Can we do it again if I take my pants off, and you take yours off, and—”

Before I can say anymore, he claims my lips, his tongue hot and furious against them. I groan and let him in, my hands sweeping to the back of his neck and holding on. He’s trembling, but I know I’m shaking too.

I think it’s been a long time for both of us, the incident in the kitchen notwithstanding. I worked myself half to death, and I didn’t have time for a love life. I might have dabbled here and there, but there were nothing more than stolen moments at the peak of pure frustration and later my own fingers because I couldn’t actually be bothered with trying to fit dating into my schedule on top of everything else. And Darius? He’s been alone for a long time, too.

That’s not the only reason this feels so good and so right, though. It’s part of it, but not nearly all the pull. I wanted to come in here tonight. I’ve wanted to come in here for days. I’ve wanted this so desperately since the kitchen. To taste him again, make him feel good, and come under his skilled hands and mouth.

Darius’ hand traces a pattern down my tank top, and he stops at the bottom, hesitating. “Is this okay?”

I wriggle into his touch, aching for more. I’m not wearing a bra, and my nipples are practically shredding through the fabric. He’s not wearing a shirt, and holy god, he smells delicious. He feels delicious. I’m almost at eye level with his nipples, which is optimal for making me feel like I’m already two seconds away from a climax that’s stimulated through visuals alone.

“Yes, it’s okay.”

He leans in, tugging my shirt off. It’s almost there, at my chin, when he balances wrong, and it pretty much rips off because he’s pulling away, or falling away, or something. I can’t see because my damn shirt is blocking my view of what’s going on, but I reach for him and catch only air. The shirt finally gives, wrenching off my face hard enough to make my nose and chin burn, and I see Darius wobbling on the edge of the bed. He tries to right himself and get his arm back under him, but it gives way—the shoulder that he says has no power in it. It doesn’t support him, and he tumbles down. I grab for him, and his hand closes around mine, which results in me plummeting off the bed to land right on top of him. He spreads his legs in a move that is pure reflex, and I land there, safely between them. I don’t knee him in the junk a second time, thank god, but I do look up at him, my laughter already bubbling out.

“Are you okay?” He’s purely concerned and furious with himself. As I slither my way up his chiseled torso, his hands wrap around my arms, and I have zero complaints about that contact. I’m not wearing a shirt either now, so it’s skin-to-skin contact, and skin-to-skin with Darius feels incredible.

The air goes electric as I look down into his dark eyes. They’re painted gold under the lamplight, but even still, his pupils are quite huge. They’re lovely eyes. The most lovely set I’ve ever seen. Even when they’re clouded with uncertainty.

“I’m good.” I wriggle against him, straddling him as his hands land on my hips. “In fact, I think it’s a great time to do the rug burn challenge.”

“What the hell is that?”

“I just made it up. There are so many other silly challenges, but this one would be good. I know it. It’s basically a challenge where we see who can get a bigger rug burn by fucking each other into the rug.”

“Aaahh!” he gasps, his voice all garbled.

I flush. Yeah, that was probably too much. I run my hand down his abs, which have been carved out by the hands of god, I swear, and trail my finger over the waistband of his sweats. I can feel how hard he is, how thick and long, and I’m straddling him, but not in the right spot. I have to scoot lower for that, and I make sure I don’t hurt him by accidentally bending things wrong. I scoot way back, hovering over his knees. Then, I tug at his sweats until they’re low enough that I can take him out.

I’ve unfortunately heard the term BDE before, which is extremely crude and not at all attractive to my way of thinking, but seeing Darius’, um, member, I finally get it. And it’s not at all unattractive on Darius. A little bit intimidating, maybe. Okay, fine, a lot intimidating because I didn’t expect to barely be able to wrap my hand around the base of him. Or that he’d be like…long enough to destroy me. Big is an understatement, and there’s most certainly a charged energy in the room.

“Holy shit,” I gasp, trying and failing to catch my breath and salvage a small amount of composure and dignity. “Uh, this is rather, um, shocking.”

“Jesus, Ev, your eyes are so huge right now. And not in a good way. I’m sorry. I was going to warn you. You can just put it back if you want. It’s all good.”

“It’s not all good! Put it back? What are you talking about? I don’t want to put it back!”

“Oh, I think I read the situation wrong. You just looked horrified when you saw it.”

I press my lips together because laughter right now would probably be misunderstood, and Darius’ happy stick would probably be offended. “I’m not horrified. A little surprised, maybe, but in a good way. What can I do to make you feel good?”

“Oh god, please don’t ask me that,” Darius groans.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m way too close already. You’re half naked, and you’re beautiful. You’re straddling me and holding my dick in your hand, and it’s heaven already.”

“Are you okay if I’m on top?” I’m trying to ask him if this is okay because this is what he needs since his shoulder gave way on the bed there. Is he okay? I don’t want to come out and ask him directly because I feel like I’ll embarrass him.

“More than okay. Is it okay for you?”

“If you promise not to wreck me with this beast,” I reply saucily.

His cock likes being called a beast, I guess, because it throbs in my hand and freaking expands, which I didn’t know was a thing. Well, apparently, it’s a thing. A very hot thing. And I’m on fire between my legs. Hot and aching and soaked and ready for this.

“Darius?”

“Hmm?” he murmurs.

I stroke my hand down his cock, and he groans. “I’m not…the whole sham marriage thing…I’m not infertile. I’m also not on any sort of birth control. Do you have condoms?” He freezes. But his cock doesn’t freeze as it’s still throbbing in my hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s just that…whatever we’re doing, we’ve only known each other for a couple of weeks, and no matter what we decide about how this should go, I think we’d like some time to get to know each other before we consider anything else. I…I’m just trying to be responsible. I’m not trying to say I don’t…I’m not trying to friend zone you again. Because that was so painful. So, so painful. I don’t think I can put myself back in that. It was torture, okay. Bad torture. I’m sorry. I’m making this super unsexy, aren’t I?”

He groans again. “Does it look like I think this isn’t sexy?”

Alright, so it doesn’t. He’s achingly hard, I’m achingly ready, and I need him inside me like fucking yesterday. “So, do you have condoms?”

“Yeah, in the nightstand. I think so.”

“I fucking hope so,” I reply.

“Me too.”

I leap up and race to the nightstand and let out a sigh of relief after digging around because I find one condom that looks extremely old. A quick check under the lamplight says it expires in a week, thank god. Good timing. The best timing— oh my word, that was a close one kind of timing.

I bring it over, and I’m not sure about what I should do with it. I mean, I know what I should do with it, but if I do it wrong, and I only have one shot, and it rips, I’m going to lose my mind. My vagina will hate me for life, and I don’t want her to hate me at all. I’d rather have a happy va-jay, so I give it to Darius, and he unwraps it with the same amount of care and reverence, and somehow, somefreakinghow, it fits on his monster cock just right. Where does he shop for those things? In the big and tall section?

“This might not be fair,” I inform him as I frantically tear my pajama bottoms off. I still have boring cotton panties on like the first time because, again, I wasn’t exactly planning for this. I kind of wasn’t not planning either, but wearing lace just felt wrong. Maybe another night. I’ll save that for another night. Or no panties at all because, yes, I can do naughty too.

“What’s not fair?” He stops with his hand on the base of his shaft. He’s a master with that condom, thank goodness. It’s firmly on, and it looks ready to roll. He’s actually looking at my face with a good amount of concern when he asks that question, which just shows that he’s the nicest, most considerate person on the planet. Because he’s not asking my boobs what’s not fair. Or my soaked panties.

“If you’re going to be the one on the bottom, then you’re going to win the challenge. You’ll probably get some great rug burns, which will look amazing on your perfect, sexy butt cheeks.”

“You haven’t seen my butt cheeks.”

“I know, but I know they’re sexy because they look incredible in any pants that you’ve worn.”

“Are you saying I have a nice ass?”

I swallow thickly, and my body feels like it’s going to explode. “I’m saying you have a very fine ass, Mr. Anderson Daddy D.”

“Oh my god, woman,” he exclaims.

“Is that an invitation to shut up and get on your cock and a promise that you’re going to change things up at least a few times to give me a chance to get some rug burns too?”

“Lord, Ev, I’m going to last half a second and waste this condom if you keep talking like that.”

“Half a second seems fair. I’ll probably come in less than that time because, uh, it looks big enough to reach all the spots with a single swipe.”

“Please.” He closes his eyes and throws his head back on the floor with a groan. “Just please.” He looks tortured and also incredibly hot with his sweats pulled down just a little, trapping his dick with his hand wrapped around it still.

It’s my absolute pleasure to undress him, so I take my time with those sweats. They come off easily enough, exposing the most beautiful, muscled legs I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing. A nice ass doesn’t even begin to describe what I know his buns will be like. The ass of supreme asses is more like it.

“You’re built, Darius. Very nicely. And, um, kind of hung too.”

“Seriously,” he mutters. He’s panting now and extremely red in the face. That condom looks like his dick is going to go all muscle-man on it and bust it down the middle, but I don’t want that to happen. Because if that happens, I’m screwed. Vagina hate, remember? Definitely not a good thing.

If he hadn’t already rolled the condom down his ginormous length, I might be tempted—more than tempted—to take him in my mouth. I’d like to make that a reality, and I think he can tell what I’m thinking, probably because my eyes just became a few shades rounder and my cheeks a few shades wetter…I mean redder—wetter is for my panties—because his hands reach for mine. He pulls me a little closer, and then I’m straddling him again. He gently shimmies my panties down, and I lift one leg and then the other to get rid of them. I feel very bare and exposed, and the room might be warm, but it’s nothing compared to my superheated lady bits, so it feels kind of cold.

Darius’ whiskey gaze warms me up fast, and he’s looking at me like he remembers all too well that I’m his favorite meal, and he’d like to have me again. I’d be super okay with that because this isn’t a one-off. I’m taking what Heather said to heart. We both want this. We want each other. We’re not just lonely people. We’re two people pulled together, and this isn’t just a random way to kill time or scratch an itch. I’m here because I want Darius. Because I’ve seen under the layers, down to the hurt he hides from everyone else, and he’s seen under mine because I chose to show it to him. Because he’s kind, he has a huge heart that no one has taken care of in a long time, he can laugh and bust a killer dance move, he doesn’t hate my family’s fiery demon cat, and his assistant is basically his best friend, which is not sad. It’s awesome. Most people with lots of money are jerks. But not him.

“Hey, are you going somewhere on me? Because if you don’t really want this, I swear it’s okay. I’ll just get up and walk it off. Straight to the shower.”

When he says walk, I know he doesn’t mean walk, no matter how good he might be at walking. Damn it, I’m never going to think of walking as walking again. I’m always going to think of Darius in the shower, stroking his massive cock. That’s something else I’d like to see. Even with a shortage of condoms, there are a lot of things we can do that are super hot, and I want to try them. I want to try them all. I’m putting my name down on a list to sign up for anything and everything kinky we can dream up and are both okay with doing. But right now, we have a condom, so right now, we’re doing this. Right now, I want him more than almost anything I’ve ever wanted, and if I don’t have him right freaking now, I’m pretty sure insta-death will become an insta-reality.

“I’m sorry. I was thinking about how amazing you are. Not about…” I drop my gaze to his dick, which has a life and mind of its own and is at full mast. When he was talking about there not being room in his pants to accommodate himself in a state of arousal, I get it. I really get it now. “Okay, I was thinking about that too. But mostly, how incredible you are as a person, and how I really appreciate that and don’t want this to be a one-time thing. I’m here, Darius. I’m really here.”

“I’m not going anywhere either.” He’s gentle and tender as he lifts my hips easily and helps me straddle him. The expression on his face is one of fierce concentration but also serenity. Like he feels this is so, so right. I feel the same way. I feel like I was made for him.

Well, I’m about to find out.

I guess I have my doubts about that .

Not internally, with matters of the mind and heart and soul, but more of the more pressing physical matters that are, I guess, also kind of internal. Anyway, I’m just going to shut up now.

“We can go slow. You set the pace. I won’t move at all, I promise.”

I grasp his shoulders and lean in for a hot kiss. I want to kiss him deep into the floor, but he’s too strong and meets me halfway, and I don’t even push his head down an inch. I’m not disappointed, though. I like him muscly and kissing me back with just as much crushing force and desperation as I give him.

“That sounds like it would be boring and painful for you,” I say as I taste his lower lip, biting down gently and running my tongue along it. He tastes like mint and man, and I am intoxicated—so drunk that I would probably fall over if his hands weren’t steadying me.

“Alright, but I won’t move until you tell me you’re okay. And if you want to change positions or take a break, let me know.”

“You’re scaring me,” I tell him.

“I just don’t want to hurt you.”

I kiss along his chin, which is quite stubbly because it’s been almost a full day without a shave, and I love the burn of stubble on my tongue, so I kiss a line to his ear, letting my lips in on the fun. It’s delicious. He’s delicious. And perfect, perfect exactly the way he is. I kiss his ear for some reason because I’m struck with the inspiration to do it, and his hips jack off the floor a few inches and come down hard. Either he’s ticklish at the lobe, or he likes it. I kiss beside his ear, along his neck, and he rolls his hips up again. Maybe he’s just really far gone like I am at the moment, and everything feels sensitive and worked up.

He doesn’t tell me to get on his cock and be quick about it, he doesn’t give me commands, and he doesn’t guide my hips there. He does keep his hands near my waist, but he’s just steadying me, just holding me, not demanding in any way. He really does let me set the pace.

Which I do as soon as I’m brave enough to get myself into position. I’m soaking wet and dripping down my thighs, which normally, I’d be a little bit mortified over, but in this situation, it’s only going to help. I guide him with one hand until his head is at my entrance. I can literally feel him throbbing there, which makes me bold and wild enough to sink down just a little. He parts me and stretches me, and this is only the narrowest part of him. He’s soaked, too, and I can hear our panting breaths and the sounds our bodies are making. I can also smell us, and it’s all perfect and hot.

I grasp Darius’ shoulders, hanging on desperately as I take more of him. It hurts. It really freaking hurts, but even as the twinges of pain jar through me, there’s the soothing warmth of pleasure to offset the wild panic that he’s not going to fit, and I’ve made a monumental mistake, and that the new challenge is going to be getting to a phone to call for an ambulance.

“Are you okay?” His eyes are open and fixed on my face. He’s been watching me, and I’ve had mine closed, concentrating on being careful and going slow and steady and on how amazing it all feels. I don’t think it’s weird that he was watching me. In fact, I think it’s hot.

“Yeah.” I lean in and give him access to my breasts. He delights me and makes me gasp by sucking one nipple, then grazing it with his teeth. It creates a straight arrow of pleasure straight to my clit that makes me cry out. “You’re kind of extra,” I pant.

“Is that a good thing? Extra as in…”

“Just extra. Don’t people say that all the time?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even have social media, so I’m not up on my lingo.”

“That’s okay. Extra for you is good. You’re extra everything,” I say to Darius.

“As long as it’s good,” he replies with a chuckle.

I adjust the position, sliding down a few inches to take more of him. It already feels like this is as far as I can go, and even though it has to be torture for him, he’s not moving. Another rocking motion forward and a small grinding motion back, and I find I can take a little bit more and then a bit more. I feel like this is the best feeling I’ve ever known, and I’m going to explode into oblivion. I feel like nothing could be better. It hurts, yes, but it also feels amazing.

I don’t see it coming, but I guess I kind of should. My climax bowls me over out of nowhere, coming at me like a mad monkey chasing an errant banana. Maybe I shouldn’t be talking about bananas right now or thinking about them, but of course, when I close my eyes, there’s an array of colored bananas there—dancing ones in every color you could imagine, including stripes and dots and houndstooth and chartreuse.

“I’m sorry,” I pant, wrecked and probably looking like a hot mess after the climax tears through me. “I didn’t mean to let that happen.”

Darius just grins at me, a soft, boyish grin that makes my heart and lady bits trip all over themselves. “Don’t be sorry. That was amazing.”

I rock my hips gently, testing out all the newfound sensitivity and how it feels to be so full that I have to grind my teeth against immediately coming again, and he groans. This time, I watch him. I watch as his eyes close, and his jaw clicks. I watch as he fights for control. It’s beautiful on him, and I want to see him lose it.

“It’s okay.” I smooth my fingers over the scars on his shoulder and do the same on his other shoulder with the perfect skin. “You can move now.”

He doesn’t open his eyes, but a vein near his temple throbs, and a muscle in his jaw spasms again. I can feel him throbbing inside me. I’m so wet, drenching us both after my climax, that it’s now so much easier to have him all the way inside me. I think that happened while I was seeing strange bananas and vibrant lights.

“I might last for all of a hot minute,” he groans. “Christ, you’re tight. You’re so tight and so wet. Even with the condom on, I can feel all of you. I could feel you when you came, clenching around me and squeezing my dick so tight that I nearly lost it.”

“Oh my god,” I moan.

“Sorry. Yeah, okay. How much do you want me to move?”

“Enough to get at least one rug burn,” I tell him.

“Okay. Can you brace yourself? And please tell me if it’s too much.”

“I will,” I assure him.

“Okay.”

His hips flex once, and I yelp. “Wait!”

“Gah!” His eyes fly open, and his hands leave my hips, going over his head as he flexes his fingers in a signal of surrender. “I’m stopping right now. I’m so sorry.”

“No, it wasn’t that. You feel amazing, honestly. So, so good. You’re not hurting me at all.” He relaxes beneath me, but I can still feel how hard he is inside me. The dichotomy of that threatens to blow my brain apart. “I was just wondering if you maybe wanted to change positions or something. Or if this is okay.”

“This is more than okay if you’re okay.”

I kiss him, taking my time. “It’s okay,” I whisper against his lips. He tangles his hand in my hair and brings my face down to his, hard, crashing our mouths together so he can really claim mine. I love being kissed like this and love the way it kind of hurts, and it’s messy and skilled all at the same time, and so, so perfect. It kind of feels a little like he’s claiming me, but it feels a heck of a lot like he’s asking to be claimed, too, and I’ve never had that with anyone before.

All the intimacy we had came before this, but this is a new level—a physical level that’s beyond even just that. This man knows my secrets, and he knows the hardest parts of my life. I’ve seen him ashamed, gripped by panic, crying, and also his eyes glittering with joy. I’ve seen his generous heart laid bare for me and even for my family, heard him laugh, seen him trying to open a damn jelly jar, and watched pleasure roll through him as he gave it all to me. We shared all that before we shared this, and it’s like we were naked long before we were actually naked, but being really naked is crazy wonderful, too.

Still kissing me furiously, Darius guides my hips gently. He uses one hand on the front while the other is splayed across my back, and I feel so perfectly steadied like that. So perfectly one with him and so perfectly his. He matches the rolling motion, thrusting with me, never giving too much, and not being pushy. He’s polite, a gentleman, and thinking that makes me want to laugh, like snort-laugh, but thankfully, all it translates to is a whimper against his lips. He eats the whimper as I feed it to him, making it his own.

I lean forward a little more and grind my clit against him. I can feel him moving inside me, not just pulsing but thrusting and hitting spots I definitely haven’t discovered on my own. I haven’t been particularly adventurous when it comes to this. In combination with the roll of my own hips and every movement grinding against my clit and sending a thousand white-hot sensations through me, I’m nearly finished.

I throw my head back, straightening up and rolling my hips over and over. I’ve probably gone full-on wanton, but at this point, I don’t care. I’m aware of my loose hair trickling down my back and Darius’ powerful body moving in tandem with mine. He’s all pent-up energy and unleashed strength, and he’s doing it for me, keeping himself in check for me.

“I can feel you pulsing around me,” he groans, talking dirty to me again, telling me the truth, and making me so damn hot that I’m an inferno of flames. I grasp his hips tightly with my thighs and dig my heels into the floor. My knees are scalded by the rug, and I never thought it would count, but maybe I’m earning some points, too. My fingers dig into Darius’ chest, and at this point, all I can do is hang on against the onslaught of pleasure rolling up, curling up, and roiling inside me, a storm about to crash over me that I can see coming this time.

I do see it coming, but the storm gets to me long before I expected it would. It cracks over me, dousing me in a deluge of rain that is hot—so, so hot.

I’m coming over and over again, the heat battling me, or maybe I’m battling it. My body is closing around Darius, pulsing around him, and breaking around him like the storm is breaking over me. He’s thrusting harder, and I can feel him through the haze of pleasure and the thick soup of my brain. I can hear him roar as he comes, and he’s all tight heat inside me. He’s still throbbing so deep that I don’t think he can get any further. The condom keeps me from feeling all of his release, but it still steals my breath, experiencing how glorious he feels below me and how he fits in every way despite all my doubts earlier.

I let all the pent-up emotion I’ve been keeping in for all these years spill out of me on a long exhale before I fold myself forward, collapsing onto Darius and pressing my forehead against his. His hands caress my back, soothing me silently and asking me if I’m okay. I nod just once against him. Our foreheads are kind of clammy together, but I don’t mind it in the least.

He gives me a few minutes to recover, and he’s so careful in helping me off of him. He’s still hard, which is crazy. He circles my waist with one arm and lifts me up. I can’t believe his strength as he hoists me into his arms and sets me down gently on one side of his bed.

“Can you stay for a minute?” he asks.

“I’ll stay all night if you’ll let me.” I didn’t mean to say that, but we don’t have much of a night left anyway since it’s probably four or five in the morning now.

“I’ll be right back,” he says.

He goes into the en suite bathroom to clean up. I hear water running, and then he’s back with a warm washcloth in hand. My thighs are soaking wet, and my knees are indeed a bright, glistening red. I’m so sore between my legs that I could scream, but it’s a good scream and a good kind of soreness that I’ll probably feel all day.

“It’s okay. I don’t need that.” I’m content to just pull the sheets over myself and let the soreness linger.

He goes back into the bathroom and comes back empty-handed. I’m so happy when he gets into bed that my throat closes up, and my nose burns with unshed tears. I know this is like post-coital bliss or whatever term people use for it. Afterglow or whatever. I’m just being sentimental because of the orgasms.

I know that’s a lie. I don’t have to tell myself lies, and it’s okay to let myself do this. I think.

“We need to talk,” I whisper as he slips his arms around my waist and pulls me close. I tuck my bare bottom up against his groin, and he groans and then groans again when I wriggle away and come back. I realize maybe that isn’t the best position, given he’s like petrified steel at the moment, so I flip onto my side, draping an arm over him and placing my cheek on his chest. “Should I take care of you?”

“Like right now? In that way?”

“Yeah. And you know what way,” I say.

“No.” He runs his fingers through my hair, gently finger-combing the strands. “You’re exhausted.”

“But that feels like it probably hurts.”

“I’m okay. We’ll talk in a few hours after some sleep. Is that alright?”

That’s probably for the best since we’ve already said a lot. My heart is pounding, but the rosy, warm sleepy feeling is already sucking at my consciousness. I want to close my eyes, keep my head on Darius’ chest, and just listen to his heartbeat in silence for the rest of my life. “That’s alright with me.”

“Okay.” He does one of those side-kiss things that catches my hair and ear. He keeps his arm around my shoulders, and I keep listening to his heartbeat and deep breaths.

I need him. I seriously need this man, and not just for six months. I want to know him so I can need him more, and I want to need every bit of him with every bit of me. I want to be an us, and I want everything the agreement was supposed to keep us from wanting. What would it be like to think about forever with someone? Eternity? A family? Life, babies, love, the future, the hard and the good…just doing it all together.

It’s too much. I’m too exhausted to process any of those thoughts that honestly shock the hell out of me. I came in here because I wanted to talk, and part of me wanted to talk and also wanted this to happen, but I just thought maybe we could be more than friends and get to know each other and be open to keeping our options open in a life-is-too-short kind of way. I didn’t think I would be bombarded with whatever that thought was and those feelings that swelled within me to accompany it.

Morning is a better time. Sleep will fix my mind so I can tell what is just blissed out aftermath and what is real.

“You’re amazing,” Darius whispers sleepily right before I feel his breathing change, and then he’s gone, wrapped all around me and sleeping soundly.

My heart responds immediately, beating rapidly.

You’re pretty damn amazing too.