Page 92 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

For now, I’m all for practicing our baby-making moves. “Get back in here,” I call to her.

She gives me a saucy smile. “I’d like to lounge around a bit, preferably with you beside me. Hang out until we have to leave—read and soak up the sun. Maybe think about what we’ll do next time we’re alone.” She winks.

I grunt.

Fuck like rabbits is what we’ll do, but with her needing to get home soon, that won’t be tonight. Still, I kind of dig her plan. Spending the afternoon flirting and teasing, getting turned on just by the idea of knowing I’ll be sinking into her one day soon, no condom between us. I’m also craving more from her. Real alone time, without Max in hearing distance, so I can hear Sadie scream my name while I utter filthy words in her ear.

Regardless of when that happens, I’m guessing this was part of her day’s plan: infiltrating my waking fantasies until I’m putty in her hands.

TWENTY-SEVEN

“How can you feel this fucking good?” I pull my hips back and thrust forward, pushing into Sadie from behind, mesmerized. Those dimples above her rounded ass. The dip of her spine as she arches. All that marble-smooth skin. Heat barrels through me, that telltale sizzle gripping my balls.

“God, yes.” She matches my relentless rhythm. “Harder.”

“How hard, baby?” I dig my fingers into the curves of her hips and pump. The bed shakes. “Like this?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Louder, Sprite.” Max is spending his Saturday afternoon with Uncle E and Aunt Delilah. No one’s home but us—our first time with no one in hearing distance. We’ve made it our mission to be as noisy and filthy as possible. “I want you to fucking scream.”

The headboard smacks the wall. She pushes into me harder. “Fuck me with that fucking gorgeous cock, you fucking gorgeous man.”

I growl and slam into her, giving her what we both need, fighting my release. Which, in case you were wondering, is no longer a challenge. I’ve had plenty of practice improving my stamina, even without condoms, the past two weeks. Quiet sessions in the guest room downstairs. One impromptu car marathon where we left Max home with E and Delilah, who were over for dinner, and we pretended we needed to go to the store to pick up ice. When we returned without the ice, E shook his head at our flushed faces and muttered, “Amateurs.”

I lift Sadie so we’re both kneeling, her back pressed to my chest, giving me full access to her body. “Your sweet little pussy was made for me. So tight and wet.” I cup one of her breasts and circle her swollen clit with my free fingers. “Let me feel you squeeze my cock.”

I give her pussy a light slap. She gasps, and yeah. There’s that contraction I was after.

A few more strokes is all it takes. She knocks her head back, reaches over her head, and grips my hair as she shouts and moans and falls apart around me. I’m seconds behind her, grunting loudly, coming so hard I lean into her, my weight taking us to the mattress as I gather her in my arms. “Jesus, woman.”

She laughs, blissful and loose. “Can’t believe I said those things.”

“With me, you get to be whoever you want. Say whatever you want. No judgment ever.”

Rain pelts the roof. Our breathing slows and evens out. I pull her closer.

“Being with you again”—she rotates in my arms and strokes my cheek—“it’s like that saying: you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.”

I run my fingers through her hair, eliciting a sigh from her. “I’m not gone, Sprite. I’m right here.”

“Let me rephrase.” She traces a vein on my forearm. “Being with you again is the opposite of that saying—I didn’t know what I lost until I got it back. I forgot how free you make me feel. What it’s like to just let go—jumping off a cliff or being wild in bed. I’ve never felt as safe with anyone as I do with you.”

I rub our noses together, unable to speak through the burn in my throat. After what I put Sadie through, her feeling safe with me is everything. Safety is the feeling of home. It means trust—the number one predictor of relationship success, according to future psychoanalyst Olivia. But we still have a distance to go.

A few mornings this week, I’ve found myself pulling out the engagement ring I never gave Sadie, staring at it, wondering when we’ll feel solid enough for that next step. Which might still be a while. She’s gone out of her way to do things for me, like our impromptu cliff jumping, and smaller gestures like hugging me for no reason and pulling me into “our dance” after Max has gone to sleep. But she still hasn’t told me she loves me. I haven’t said it again since that first time, either, worried she’s not ready for that level of emotion.

I skim my knuckles down the side of her breast, loving this ease between us now. Her complete surrender. Still, I want more. I want everything with Sadie and Max, which means talking about the tough stuff too.

I kiss her nose and give her some space, needing to read her expression for this conversation. “You know I’ve been doing that book club with Max.”

She nods. “It’s incredibly sweet.”

“And fun. But the first book was a bit of a surprise, and I’m not sure if you’ve seen his blue sketchbook, the personal one he showed me on the first hike?”

When she shakes her head, looking less amused, I wind our hands together. I’m not sure if now’s the right time to discuss Max’s sexuality. I’m not sure there’s a right or wrong time or why I’ve kept quiet to date. I just suddenly need to share my thoughts with her. Work toward being better parents together, like Ricky suggested at the art walk. “Have you ever wondered if Max is gay?”

She doesn’t suck in a surprised breath or frown or tell me I’m being ridiculous. She nibbles her lip and searches my face. “I have, but I’m not sure. Why? Did he say something to you?”