At his house we were like a platonic married couple. He pressed his mouth to the back of my neck before going to sleep every night. But with the exception of that one kiss, he barely touched me. That was as intimate as it got. He even made an effort to keep his hips away from my ass when he spooned me at night. There was only affection between, friendship…until there was more
Prom rolled around.
“Has anybody asked you?”
We were both studying, seated on opposite ends of the couch, my socked feet on his lap. I looked up from my textbook and found his gaze on me burning brightly. It was kind of embarrassing how easily he could turn me on with a single look.
When I didn’t answer, his eyes narrowed on me. “Who? Who asked you?”
“Why does it matter? I’m not going anyway.”
One of the guys on the tennis team needed a date and asked me to go as a friend. I said I would think about it and he told me not to think about it too long because he was going to ask his cousin if I said no.
“You’re not going?” He looked confused, a little hopeful but mostly confused. He and Crystal had been voted prom king and queen. He didn’t understand what it was like not to have a single friend to party with. He’d never been anything other than popular. I shrugged.
“I’m gonna take you out,” he stated as a matter of fact. “I want you to dress up, and we’ll go out. Anywhere you want to go.”
I didn’t want his pity. It annoyed me. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.” He rubbed my feet. My toes flexed involuntarily when he ran his thumb along my arch. It took me a minute to realize he was seducing me. Having been with Crystal for so long, he had no shortage of experience where as I had practically none. Zach wouldn’t have known the definition of seduction if the dictionary hit him in the face. One side of his lips kicked up in a wicked grin. It was the first time he looked like himself since the accident. “Are you saying no?”
I couldn’t help but smile. He could make a dying woman smile if he put his mind to it.
I bought a dress. He picked me up at my house, showed up with a dozen white roses and everything––went all out. I thought white was a weird choice but I kept it to myself.
What was he trying to say with the white? Was this only a gesture of friendship? The white messed with my head. Then I took a good long look at him, so handsome in his navy suit, and I forgot all about the white flowers. And something in his eyes was different. The way he looked at me had changed. I didn’t know it at the time but it was ownership.
He took me to a fancy restaurant in Oklahoma City. He held my hand as we walked in, playing gently with my fingers. All throughout dinner I couldn’t stop thinking about how good that felt and how good those fingers would feel elsewhere. We ate and joked and laughed like we always did. The loss of his parents wasn’t on his face for once.
He placed my hand on his thigh as he drove home and my heart nearly exploded––along with my female parts. He was whipping me up into a frenzy without even trying.
“Maren…” he said after he pulled into his parents’ driveway and parked, his expression serious as he looked out the windshield of his father’s BMW. “I want to kiss you so bad it hurts.” He turned to me then. Those whiskey-colored eyes fell on my lips and he did it, brushed his against mine gently, softly until mine parted.
And that first kiss…it was like coming home. There was nothing strange or unfamiliar about it.
Things escalated quickly. In seconds I was crawling onto his lap and my hands were fisted in his hair. His hands were on my breast and ass. He pulled away and scanned my face. “Are you okay? Is this okay?” he murmured into the dark space of the car as if he had something to apologize for.
Okay? Are you on crack? I remember thinking. I’d waited all my life for him to do all those things and more to me. He couldn’t have been that clueless.
Apparently he was.
I didn’t give him the chance to second-guess what we were doing. Nodding and smiling, I said, “Let’s go inside.”
We stumbled through the front door with his hands cupped around my face, kissing. Senseless, endless kisses. He pushed me down on the couch and stopped to rip off his suit jacket.
“Maren…” My name always sounded like a plea out of his mouth. He didn’t need to beg; I would’ve given him anything.