Page 77 of All Our Almosts

“I’ve had like nine years of foreplay, Andy. I just want you. Now. Please.”

He groans like it’s the best thing he’s ever heard, then reaches towards his nightstand to pull out a condom, tearing it open and rolling it on.

Our eyes lock as he positions himself between my thighs again.

I nod, hand cupping the side of his face. Then finally, slowly, he pushes inside me.

I moan as I take him in, I can’t help it. He’s so big and my body is a livewire, and even without moving another inch it’s the best sex I’ve ever had.

Then he captures my lips again as he starts to shift forward, gradually, savoring every inch of pressure. And it’s incomparable.

“Andy.” His name feels heavy on my lips. “God.”

My body rolls into his, nails pressing half moons into the back of his neck. My eyes flutter closed and I know he’s watching me, but I love it, need it.

“You are—” he says as his mouth moves to the hollow of my throat “—so perfect.” He’s thrusting in and out at a languid pace, teasing us both. “You feel so fucking perfect, Soph. Like you were made for me.”

My hands roam over his shoulders and back. “Maybe I was.”

His groan is anguished as he starts to kiss farther down my body, reaching my breast, dragging his tongue over my nipple with torturously light contact that has me writing under him. When I beg for more, harder, he only switches to the other side, repeating the same torment until my moans are loud enough to wake the dead.

With every sound we make, every kiss we place on each other's bodies, it’s like we forget ourselves a little more, until we’re nothing but sensation and raw, searing emotion.

“In my wildest dreams,” he’s saying, “I never believed I could really have you.” His breath traces the pulse in my neck. “I still can’t believe it.”

Then he’s finally thrusting faster, giving us both what we so desperately need. His rhythm is punishing as I pull his body deeper into mine.

“God, Andy, I love you. I love you so much.”

Then he’s coming, pulsing inside me as he presses his fingers where I need them most, and I’m gone too, falling over that edge with him. We kiss through each wave, coming down together until we’re both gasping for breath.

Our hearts begin to slow, and we meet each other’s eyes with tentative smiles. Then it turns into full-fledged grins, and suddenly we’re both laughing. A relieved, contented, intimate laugh.

It feels so good—to know we’re still ourselves.

Andy is still inside me as his forehead comes to rest against mine. He brushes the hair from my face, then kisses me once more before pulling out. He offers to grab something to clean us up and I thank him.

Only once he’s left the room do I realize what I said. I said I love him. Which, to be clear, I do. And he knows that. We say it all the time. But it definitely feels different to say it while we’re having sex...

Oh my god. We had sex. And it was amazing, life-ruining sex. The kind of sex where everything else will just be downhill from here on out.

He walks back in the room with a washcloth for me and a stupid happy grin on his face. It makes my chest squeeze. I love his dimples. I love him.

The thought terrifies me, but I make the active choice to put a pin in it. Today, I just get to be happy.

Once we’re both cleaned up, Andy crawls back into bed and pulls me into him, tucking us both under the top sheet. I rest my head on his chest and he kisses my hair.

“Andy, that was… oh my god.” He chuckles, and I feel the resonance against my cheek. “I mean, I’m retroactively jealous of your exes.”

He trails his thumb over my bottom lip. “I was actively jealous of all of your exes while you were together. I think I win.”

Warmth spreads across my cheeks as I nestle back into him. I want to burrow into this moment and never leave. But even reeling from his words, a little sliver of doubt makes me say, “Okay, but can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

I try to bend my voice away from accusation. “If you were jealous… I mean, if you wanted to sleep with me for so long… why didn’t you ever take me up on my offer?”

“What are you talking about?” he asks without a trace of malice, peeking down to find my eyes.