Say Yes (Nostalgic Summer Romance)

We spent years in that embrace, or perhaps only mere minutes — time had warped into something immeasurable with him inside me, his eyes locked on mine, hands wrapped around my shoulders and pulling me against him as he flexed deeper and deeper with each thrust. I kissed his forehead, his cheeks, his jaw, his neck before capturing his lips, only to start all over again.

When I leaned into him, closing the gap between us and pressing my naked breasts against his chest, he held me to him tighter, his pace quickening, hands helping me ride him faster and faster.

Suddenly, he stopped me at the top with a hiss, a grimace of pain on his face before he muttered. “Condom.”

I left him long enough to hop off the bed and scramble for my purse, pulling a condom out and quickly rolling it on him. As soon as it was fixed tight, he pulled me into his lap again, helping me slowly lower down and take him inside.

“Goddamn, Harley,” he said. “You’re even tighter.”

I could feel it, too — like the break had made my body tight with the need to feel him inside me again, with the need to release.

Again, his pace quickened, but when I tried to close my eyes and surrender to the feeling, he shook his head, framing my face between his hands and holding me steady.

“Look at me,” he husked, flexing deep.

His eyes locked on mine, his hands sliding down again to grip my hips tight enough to bruise as he helped me move. Up and down, up and down, again and again as his eyes looked deeper into mine. His jaw tensed, lids fluttering, and then with a longing groan, I felt him spill inside me.

I clenched around him, too, fighting to keep my eyes open as I watched what I did to him, and he watched what he was doing to me. Every sense was overwhelmed with him, with the way it felt to have him inside me, to have him hold me, to have him look at me with such passion and desire it was palpable. He shuddered inside me with the last of his release and I clung to him with the exit of mine until we were both sated and trembling, drenched in sweat and holding onto each other for dear life.

It was the most raw and intimate connection I’d ever felt.

Those three heavy words were there again, dancing on the tip of my tongue, begging me to open my mouth and let them free.

I swallowed them down.

But when Liam lifted his forehead from where he’d pressed it into my chest, sweeping my hair aside so he could look up into my eyes, I could have sworn I saw those words reflected in his gaze, too.

Instead of speaking, he pulled me down for another long, slow, purposeful kiss.

And with that, all the rules were broken, all the lines were crossed.

We were in new territory now.

The Art of Living a Lie

Liam held my hand on the train ride home the next day, but he didn’t say a single word.

He looked out the window the entire trip, eyes flicking between the trees as they passed, and although he held onto me, he felt light years away.

I so desperately wanted to talk to him, to bring up what had been said in the throes of passion to make sure I hadn’t imagined it all. He had said he wanted more, too, hadn’t he? He had said he wanted all of me, that he needed me… right?

It was a childish thing, to want the verbal affirmation again, but I did. I had to know I wasn’t crazy. I had to hear the words from him in broad daylight, had to know they were real.

“You okay over there?” I asked when we were close to the Florence station, squeezing his hand in mine.

He turned toward me with his brows furrowed together, a deep line between them. But his expression smoothed when he saw me, and he leaned over to kiss my forehead before answering, “I’m okay. Just tired.”

I nodded, and then he was looking out the window again.

When we made it back, we filed off the train with our suitcases in hand, and opted to walk to campus, even though it was a good twenty minutes. It was still faster than trying to get a cab, and cheaper, too.

“Want to come back to my dorm?” I asked after about ten minutes of silence. “It won’t be the same as Elio and Antonella’s cooking, but I’m sure Angela could whip us up a mean peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

The corner of Liam’s lips lifted marginally. “I’m actually pretty tired,” he reiterated. “I think I just want to get some rest. Class starts back up tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Probably best.”