Page 42 of Ravaged With You

His eyes open slowly, and he watches as I continue to cross the room, then sit on the edge of the bed, just inches from his hips. I wait for him to tell me to go back to my room, but he surprises me by pushing himself up, then settling his back against the padded headboard. “I remember a lot of things. That weekend you lived at the kitchen table while you wrote that paper on—what was it?”

“Oh, man.” I let my head flop back as I groan. “Why are you torturing me? I hated that class. It sounded so cool in the catalog, but that stupid paper killed it for me. The relevance and meaning of sun imagery in Nordic mythology. I mean, ugh. Before I wrote it, I loved mythology. Now I cringe every time I watch an Avengers movie with Thor in it.”

He chuckles. “I learned a few new curse words that weekend.”

I tilt my head. “I do not believe that. But I do remember how sweet you and Mel were. You had your own classwork, but you still fetched me fast food and made me gallons of coffee. And the cake,” I add. “The cake was the best.”

I’d returned home after turning in the accursed paper to find a chocolate frosted sheet cake with You did it! spelled out in messy icing letters.

“The cake was easy, except for the fact that we had no eggs in the apartment. The writing was hard.”

“It was fabulous. One of my best memories.” We’d spent the evening drinking and playing Never Have I Ever, and sharing far too many secrets, most of which I don’t remember.

“Oh, I remember some,” he says, when I tell him as much.

I cringe. “Please tell me that’s not true.”

“That was the night we learned that you’d never been on the giving end of oral sex.”

I let my face fall into my hands. “I have no memory of saying that.”

“But you did. Do you remember what I told you?”

I look up, because now that he’s asked, I actually do remember it. “You teased the shit out of me and offered to let me practice on you. Mel was cracking up. He said he’d be willing to tape it if I tried. For instructional comment and critique. You jerks.”

“You were cracking up, too,” he says. “So was I, for that matter. I laughed so hard my sides hurt.”

“I miss those days,” I say softly.

He rubs the pad of his thumb lightly over my knee, exposed in the sleep shorts and tank I’m wearing. “True confessions?” I almost don’t hear him, his voice is so low.

“Sure.” My voice is breathy, and I’m not sure why. Something in his tone. Something signaling a change.

“I meant it. That night. That offer. I can’t tell you how much I wanted you to take me up on it.”

I swallow, then force a light-hearted giggle. “No way do I believe that.”

“Oh, yes. Hell, Jo. I’ve wanted you since the day I met you.”

“I—” I suck in a breath, suddenly far too aware of his touch. “Why didn’t you say something in college? And that night after you came back from overseas—the night we kissed—why did you pull away? For that matter, why didn’t you say something when I asked if you were okay with me dating Mel?”

I think I hear regret in his sigh. “What does it matter now?”

“No,” I snap. “You’re the one who opened this door. And you’re the one touching me right now. Do you even know what you’re doing to me, with just that stupid touch of your thumb? All the things you’re making me want?”

He doesn’t move his thumb, but he does meet my eyes before purposefully dropping his gaze. I know what he sees. My nipples are hard against my tank. And if he’d just slide that hand higher, he’ll find out that I’m wet. Please, please, just a little bit higher.

But he doesn’t budge. Instead he takes a deep breath, then starts speaking, his voice low, his eyes rising to meet mine. Worst of all, he pulls his hand away, stealing his touch.

“Before I joined the service, I was too stupid to say anything to you. And I told myself a fairy tale. That nothing would change while I was gone, and when I came back, I’d have the courage to say something. Like I was some storybook hero who had to go away to prove his worth.”

“You’re back now,” I whisper, but even as I say the words, I know he’s not finished with the story. Because he came back years ago. And despite that fairy tale he’s espousing, he didn’t claim me that night, back when it was only him and me, and Mel was just a friend.

Instead, he very firmly pushed me away.

“Things changed, Jo.”

I swallow rising tears, but manage a nod.