I slide in and out. The heat has built into a raging, fiery tornado that spins around us, making me dizzy. I’m not sure I’m breathing right. My penis tightens but I try to hold back, wanting to feel like this for as long as possible. I don’t want to lose this connection we share, not until I absolutely have to. Part of me wishes that I could just stay inside her, to never leave this warm bubble of happiness that surrounds us.
Every other time we’ve had sex, I’ve been so angry, chasing only the pleasure. But now
my heart is singing, so happy to be feeling her, and I can’t get enough of it.
But everything has to end some time. My stomach clenches and I know I’m close. I clutch Jessica’s hips and my thrusts speed up. Her movements are clumsy now and when her body shudders with a sharp cry, I know she’s tumbled over the edge, spinning into the pleasure that’s engulfed us. I thrust several more times as her body clenches impossibly tight around me, chasing my own orgasm, before white covers my vision.
For a long moment, I can only feel the pleasure that steals my breath. When it starts to fade away, my vision returns and I try to catch my breath, my body shaking.
I can’t believe how different this has felt. I swallow heavily and pull out of Jessica, who looks up to grin tiredly at me.
“Bed?” she asks.
I can’t help but laugh.
“Bed,” I agree.
We can talk about all this in the morning. Right now, as we slide under the covers and Jessica snuggles in beside me with a contented sigh, I’m happy just to lay here and remember how good everything is.
Somehow, I know everything will work out eventually.
I wake up, fading nightmares blinking across my vision. It’s dark and I don’t quite know where I am. Then I hear Jessica beside me, and memories of the night before flood me. I remember taking her on the date, learning so many different things about her. Then we returned to her apartment and we had sex, both of us unable to bear another moment without touching each other.
It was a wonderful night. The only regret I have is everything I didn’t know about Jessica. As we dropped off to sleep, I knew that I would like to go on another date with her soon, to explore this growing feeling between us.
So why do I feel like this? My heart is tight in my chest, and I roll away from her, not wanting to look at her. I remember the nightmares from the night before, the same one I had the other day, of Jessica’s accusing face and her threats to remove Owen entirely from my life.
That’s not Jessica. Despite everything she didn’t know, or the suspicions that she might still hold because I haven’t told her anything yet, she hasn’t once denied me the right to see Owen. She even still wants me, as she’s told me more than once.
But nightmares are nightmares and, despite knowing that they aren’t real, they hold a tiny sliver of truth in them.
Because once, Jessica really thought that I could be a murderer. She went behind my back, collected all the worst pieces of evidence and then disappeared before she even thought about asking me about it.
The Jessica I know now is different to three years ago. She’s more tired, but she’s also calmer and slightly less prone to jumping to such drastic conclusions without talking in through first. She’s making the effort that she didn’t put in three years ago. She’s matured, just as I have.
But what’s to stop this happening again? We were together for two and a half years last time. Despite not knowing each other nearly as well as we thought we did, she owed it to me to at least talk to me. How can I even contemplate having a relationship with someone that did something like that to me?
I swallow the lump in my throat. Suddenly, the room feels far too small. I need to get out of here, now. Carefully, not wanting to wake Jessica, I slide out of bed. Then I flee the room. I can’t stay here, looking at Jessica’s peaceful face and knowing what she did.
Maybe it’s because it’s early. But if I’m feeling like this now, then maybe I’ll feel like this tomorrow, or the next day. Part of me wants to make a relationship with Jessica work. The rest of me wants to run in the other direction.
Instead, I’m just stuck in one place, with no idea what to do next.
I find all my clothes, putting Jessica’s on the couch so she can find them when she gets up. Then I flee. As I do so, I pull out my phone. I contemplate what to write.
And then I know. I can’t do this. This is not how a relationship works. I can’t settle down in such an intimate relationship with Jessica, not while so many issues are hanging over both our heads.
I send the message, feeling guilty that I’m not telling her this in person, and get on my bike. I don’t want to be here, but I don’t want to be home. I want to ride as far away from here as I can, and then I just want to walk. I need the air.
Then, maybe, I’ll be able to figure out what to do next.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Grant
I’m a coward.
A fucking coward.