Love the One You Hate

We don’t move a muscle as our chests rise and fall.

“Maren,” he whispers.

“Hmm.”

His hand comes up to brush my hair away from my face, but I can’t work up the will to open my eyes. He laughs and sits up. He’s still inside me and I don’t mind one bit, but we can’t stay fused forever. He lifts me up and off him and sets me down on the blanket so he can wrap it around me. I rest my chin on my hands as I hear him bustling around the room. When I finally pry my sleepy eyes open, he stands above me, not so different from the way he looked when he first walked in. Sure, his hair is mussed from my hands and his bow tie hangs askew, but other than that, he could be on his way to another black-tie function.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks as he loops his arms around me and stands with my weight in his arms.

“I’m not thinking. I’m dreaming,” I say, resting my head against his chest.26NicholasI carry Maren up to my bedroom so we can rinse off and climb into bed. She’s wearing one of my t-shirts and lying on one of my pillows, already half-asleep when I reach out to tug her toward me. She’s tired and compliant, so when I drape my arm around her waist, she curls into me more.

I don’t sleep very much that night, too aware of her in my bed: every sound she makes, every time her body moves, the barest touch of her skin against mine. I consider waking her up twice with a kiss, but I force myself to close my eyes and try to nod off. Sometime near dawn, I give in to the urge to have her again. I skate my hand up underneath her shirt and feel her smooth skin until she starts to stir. She moans when my hand cups her breast, and it sounds drugged and needy. I reach for a condom in my bedside table and am inside her before she blinks her eyes open and looks up at me in the dark room.

“Nicholas,” she whispers as I spread her legs and push in deeper.

I kiss her, pouring myself into her as my hips roll and thrust.

It’s over before I want it to be, a slice of heaven that dissolves before my eyes.

We sleep again after that, and when I wake up, Maren’s not in my bed.

She’s downstairs with my grandmother by the time I shower and join them for breakfast. I have no idea where her head is at, and I feel like I’m walking on eggshells as I fill my plate and sit down across the table from her.

She glances up and smiles at me, an expression filled with all the memories of last night and no regrets.

I smile right back.

My grandmother is reading the paper, telling us about an upcoming art festival, but Maren and I are having our own private conversation.

She must have showered before she came down this morning. Her long hair is still damp, with natural waves forming as it dries. Her face is makeup-free, so there’s nothing competing with her green eyes. Her lips are a soft pink, and I’m staring at them as she brings her bagel to her mouth for another bite.

“Nicholas, don’t you think you’d like to attend?”

I have no idea.

“You haven’t been listening, have you? I swear you’re on another planet this morning.”

Maybe I am.

She whips her paper back open in front of her and Maren shakes her head at me, trying to get me to behave, but I can’t. I’m a fool for her.

The V-neck of her dress cuts low down her chest, revealing a little red mark on the swell of her right breast. She follows my gaze there and frowns menacingly, reaching down to tug the fabric higher to cover it.

I left that mark on her with my teeth.

Her blush tells me she remembers the moment too.

“What do you two have planned for today? I assume by the googly eyes that you’ve got something up your sleeve?”

“I want to take Maren sailing.”

Maren’s brows arch. “Oh? I seem to remember you thinking I’d be dead weight on a sailboat.”

I smirk. “We’ve both said a lot of things we regret in this dining room.”

Cornelia hums. “Maren, you really should take him up on it while he’s feeling generous. I know you’ll love it.”

Maren shrugs then and pushes back from the table. “All right. I guess it can’t hurt.”

It can hurt though.

Me—physically.

Maren throws on shorts and a white button-down before we leave the house, but as soon as we’re out on the water, she unbuttons her shirt so she can get some sun. Her red bikini distracts me from every task I set my mind to. I retie lines twice. I ease the sails when I’m supposed to trim them. I accidentally defer to a give-way vessel so that we’re both confused about who’s supposed to have the right of way. They’re all rookie mistakes that have me feeling like a fool, but Maren doesn’t notice.