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“I want—” I turn wet strands of her hair over in my fingers, then I tuck them behind her ear and tilt her neck so her face is turned up toward mine. I kiss her jaw, her lips, her neck; I sink my face into the curves of her chest and plant a kiss there that I’ll come back to nurture later. I breathe into her skin my secret, hoping it’s enough. Hoping I’m enough. “I want you, Gwen. As much as you’ll let me have.”
She leans back, opening her neck to my mouth, and fumbles with my towel. “Good,” she says, letting it fall.
We move together onto the bed while we kiss, lying down next to each other, and I pull the covers up to keep her warm. We kiss and touch like this for a while, naked and nearly so, and I feel like I could come just from the way she exhales when I move my mouth to her shoulders, the way she digs her fingernails into my back when I nibble her ear, the way her body feels against mine when she wraps her leg around me.
I touch her, and her nails dig deeper, now tangled under my arms and coiling up to my shoulders. She shudders, and I’m filled with need. “Baby, I want all of you.” She stretches an arm to the side, swatting at the nightstand drawer until she connects with the handle, and pulls out one of the condoms she tucked in there earlier while we were getting ready for our date.
She grips me and rolls it on while I massage her with my thumb in slow, intentional circles, responding to the way she responds to me with her hands, her writhing hips, her uninhibited whispers of pleading for more, her arching back. When she slams a hand against the bed and twists the sheets in her grip, biting her lip, I pull her on top of me.
Gwendolyn
“God, that’s good,” he whispers as I keep coming undone around him. He props himself up on his elbow, using his free hand to bring my mouth to his, then expertly unhooking my bra and letting it fall away. “You’re perfect, Gwen.” He rocks into me, bending his knees to move me forward, until the lines of our bodies are so entwined you can’t see where mine ends and his begins.
It’s a steady, slow rhythm: soft, soft, deep, anapestic, repeated while I’m on top, after he rolls me over, buries his face in my chest and draws me into his mouth. It’s perfect—enough to tip him over the edge. I contract my muscles and he bites his lip and groans as he pulls out and hovers over me, his forehead pressed against mine, our huffing and panting mingling, mutually and deeply satisfied.
He excuses himself, disposes of the condom, and comes back in a pair of tight boxer briefs. Meanwhile, I’ve slipped into his button-down from our date. “That looks infinitely better on you than it ever did or will on me,” he says before he deposits one more kiss on my lips, his eyes open, smiling into mine.
“Personally, I think you should just give up on clothes. This— ” I gesture to his abs, his toned arms, “this works for you.”
“And this is probably more comfortable for you.” He hands me one of his T-shirts, tortured and tattered into sleevelessness. I make a show of unbuttoning the shirt seductively, and he hoists me up so I’m standing on the bed. He flings back the fabric like curtains and nuzzles into my stomach, a trail of heat from his breath running from my navel down. I gasp when his lips greet my skin, and I push off against his shoulders.
“We have all night, Sawyer.”
“Hopefully more than one, though, right?” He lifts me down off the bed and watches while I trade one of his shirts for the other.
“I told you, I want to try.” I sit, taking his hand, tugging him toward the spot next to me. “About earlier...”
He swallows and shakes his head. “You don’t have to tell me anything. You’re here. That’s enough for me.”
I appreciate that he doesn’t need all the details about my conversation with Tristan, but I need him to know my realization. “I was wrong the other morning.” Confusion tugs at his eyebrows. “I don’t want to be a fling that means nothing, that maybe you talk to your buddies about over beers. I don’t want to be this fleeting thing. I want to be enough. I want to be memorable… part of your story.” I twist back a lock of his hair and cup his face in my hand. “I don’t want to try, Sawyer. I want—I need us to be together.”
“You need it?” His brows pinch, and I have a flashback to yesterday when I propositioned him.
“Not it. You. Not as a distraction. Not some quick fix for my issues. I need you because you’re you. Because I’m better with you, and I don’t think I completely ruin you.”
“I want you, Gwen. So much,” he says through a snicker. Want. “I need you, too, if you’re curious,” he adds, reading my mind. He pecks my shoulder, running over the skin with his finger. “Your shoulder’s already peeling.”
“Hm. Shame. Maybe I need to find someone who’s better at applying sunscreen.” I rise and he yanks me back into his lap, smothering me in kisses.
“Or, you need to not be so stubborn and take your shirt off next time so I can actually get it where it needs to go.”
In one swift movement I strip out of his tank top and dangle it over his head. “This better?”
“Perfect.” He twitches against the inside of my thigh, and a mischievous smile tells me it’s time for more.
“I lied to you.”
Not exactly what you want to hear when you’re tangled in a mess of linens and limbs, sweaty and wet, coming down off the high of mind-numbing sex. I try not to startle at the admission, but with my chest pressed against his side and his fingers stroking the length of my spine, any little jerk is noticeable to him.
“When I said Nan didn’t tell me anything about you, that wasn’t true. She told me about you that first night, after your event, though she never told me it was your event. She said she’d met the nicest girl for me, a total firecracker, and I should have gone in with her instead of waiting in the bar down the street.” He shifts, letting his nose rub against mine. “Then when Maggie told her you were single, she started planting seeds, saying how smart, funny, and beautiful you were…”
“She said all those things? Sounds like I’m dating the wrong Dawson.”
He pulls back, beaming ear to ear. “Dating, huh?”
“Of course. I don’t do flings.”
There’s one part on my side that is extra sensitive, where the slightest touch tickles, and he goes after it. I squirm, squeal, roll over so my back’s to him, and pull his arms around me. He is a very, very big spoon, and being nestled into him is my new happy place.
