worked our way upstairs, but remained on the floor, our bodies plastered to each other in front of the window. We were solidly in the wee hours of morning, the city that was usually pulsing and alive barely a whisper below us. I felt the new day despite hours between us and the sunrise. Penny and I had turned a page-hell, we'd thrown the book out the window. We were done with me claiming that I felt something more for her with the check looming in the distance. The incessant beeping of the timer on our relationship had been silenced. We got to choose our destination without an end in sight.
She snuggled closer, her body fitting mine like it was always meant to be this way. “I want to know more about you. The unabridged story of your life.”
“My life story?” I chuckled, sweeping my fingertips across her bare back. “The wedding is in a few hours, and it would take me weeks to tell you just how fucked up I am.”
She shuddered. “Don't remind me about the wedding.”
I swept my fingertips lower, skating toward the curve of her ass. “I'm sure your sister has you guys wearing something beautiful and sexy-”
“And she keeps reminding us of that gift every chance she gets,” she scoffed. “How grateful we should be that she's allowing us to wear designer threads that aren't completely hideous on her big day.”
I'd only gleaned who her sister was based on the bits and pieces Penny shared, but I had a feeling we wouldn't get along. It had very little to do with the fact that she was high maintenance...it was because she'd hurt my Penny. That was not something easily forgiven. “I'll be right there beside you. Whether she goes into diva mode, or that blonde tries to trip you up, whether you're in a designer dress or a paper sack, you’ll be beautiful. And you’ll be okay.” I propped my arm beneath my head. “I do have my preferences in the dress department though.”
“You do?”
“Mmhm,” My cock stirred, on the same wavelength. “No dress at all.”
“Oh my gosh,” she laughed, the sound of it wrapping me in its warm glow. “A bold choice, and I'm pretty sure my sister would go into cardiac arrest, but I'll save the nakedness for my boyfriend.”
Was it crazy that hearing that word without the word 'fake' attached to it made my heart beat excitedly? I didn't care if it was. I was embracing crazy. Embracing something good. “Your boyfriend is a lucky guy.”
“Don't I know it.” She nestled her chin on my chest and her hazel eyes rested on me, a smile in her gaze and on her lips. “Your girlfriend is pretty lucky too.” Her smile faltered slightly and she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. The way she bit her lip was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen, but this round was more pensive. Almost worried. “You're not the only one that's screwed up. We can be screwed up together.”
My mouth lifted into a smile. “That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me.”
Growing up, I was taught that men didn't share their feelings, so I learned to view them as an inconvenience. Something to get over or power through. All my baggage was carefully stacked in the darkest corner of the closet. It lingered, but I didn't shine a light on it. “When I finally fought back against the bullies that were making my life hell, my father sent me to military school. That's where I spent my formative years. It should have been enough to show me that there was nothing wrong with me, that there was something broken in my father, but I spent a lot of years trying to be the perfect son.”
She pressed her lips against my chest. “Nothing stings quite as much as a parent's rejection.”
The familiar digging in my heels whenever I felt that pain crept over me. I locked every muscle in my body. I could hear my father's voice in my head, calling me ungrateful, listing off all the ways I was lucky, reminding me that it was the women's job to whine and complain and it was up to the rest of us to get shit
She snuggled closer, her body fitting mine like it was always meant to be this way. “I want to know more about you. The unabridged story of your life.”
“My life story?” I chuckled, sweeping my fingertips across her bare back. “The wedding is in a few hours, and it would take me weeks to tell you just how fucked up I am.”
She shuddered. “Don't remind me about the wedding.”
I swept my fingertips lower, skating toward the curve of her ass. “I'm sure your sister has you guys wearing something beautiful and sexy-”
“And she keeps reminding us of that gift every chance she gets,” she scoffed. “How grateful we should be that she's allowing us to wear designer threads that aren't completely hideous on her big day.”
I'd only gleaned who her sister was based on the bits and pieces Penny shared, but I had a feeling we wouldn't get along. It had very little to do with the fact that she was high maintenance...it was because she'd hurt my Penny. That was not something easily forgiven. “I'll be right there beside you. Whether she goes into diva mode, or that blonde tries to trip you up, whether you're in a designer dress or a paper sack, you’ll be beautiful. And you’ll be okay.” I propped my arm beneath my head. “I do have my preferences in the dress department though.”
“You do?”
“Mmhm,” My cock stirred, on the same wavelength. “No dress at all.”
“Oh my gosh,” she laughed, the sound of it wrapping me in its warm glow. “A bold choice, and I'm pretty sure my sister would go into cardiac arrest, but I'll save the nakedness for my boyfriend.”
Was it crazy that hearing that word without the word 'fake' attached to it made my heart beat excitedly? I didn't care if it was. I was embracing crazy. Embracing something good. “Your boyfriend is a lucky guy.”
“Don't I know it.” She nestled her chin on my chest and her hazel eyes rested on me, a smile in her gaze and on her lips. “Your girlfriend is pretty lucky too.” Her smile faltered slightly and she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. The way she bit her lip was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen, but this round was more pensive. Almost worried. “You're not the only one that's screwed up. We can be screwed up together.”
My mouth lifted into a smile. “That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me.”
Growing up, I was taught that men didn't share their feelings, so I learned to view them as an inconvenience. Something to get over or power through. All my baggage was carefully stacked in the darkest corner of the closet. It lingered, but I didn't shine a light on it. “When I finally fought back against the bullies that were making my life hell, my father sent me to military school. That's where I spent my formative years. It should have been enough to show me that there was nothing wrong with me, that there was something broken in my father, but I spent a lot of years trying to be the perfect son.”
She pressed her lips against my chest. “Nothing stings quite as much as a parent's rejection.”
The familiar digging in my heels whenever I felt that pain crept over me. I locked every muscle in my body. I could hear my father's voice in my head, calling me ungrateful, listing off all the ways I was lucky, reminding me that it was the women's job to whine and complain and it was up to the rest of us to get shit
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