Summary: Though their chemistry class is now over, the chemistry between James and Rose is just getting started. Together, they navigate the highs of new love and the lows of coping with past trauma to forge deep and unbreakable bonds of love and commitment.
Chapter rating: M
Chapter 14:
Rose barely had the strength to walk up the flights of stairs to her flat, but she made it. When the door was locked behind her, she dropped her backpack and keys onto the kitchen table and sank onto her couch, boneless.
What a fucking day.
Rose closed her eyes and rubbed the heels of her hands into them. Her head was throbbing.
Groaning, she grabbed her phone. She hadn't checked it all day, but she couldn't exactly go the rest of her life without looking at it. So she unlocked her phone and saw a notification on WhatsApp. Drawing in a deep breath, she opened the message, a reply to her demand of how he got her number.
From a mutual friend. I'm sorry, but I really wanted to talk to you, Rosie. Please, just hear me out.
The message was sent hours ago, directly after her message to him. Rose chewed on her bottom lip until she tasted the metallic tang of blood, mulling over what to say. She could ignore him. She could block his number and force him back into the box in her mind. She could apologize to James and tell him that Jimmy had texted her and it rattled her, but she blocked his number and she would be back to normal in no time.
But what if Jimmy found another way to contact her? He could borrow a friend's phone to text her. Or change his number. Her stomach rolled with the idea of waking up, unprepared, to another out-of-the-blue message from Jimmy. Maybe she should just get it over with—rip off the plaster.
"What could you possibly have to say to me after all these years? What makes you think I want to hear anything you have to say?"
Rose didn't think twice, and sent the message. Then she typed, "I didn't appreciate being blindsided like this. It's been three years. Don't expect much of a reply from me."
Her phone buzzed.
Please don't block me. Please. Please hear me out. There's so much I want to say to you. To apologize for.
Rose snorted. Apologize? It was three years too late for that.
Please don't block me.
"Why shouldn't I?"
Look, I'm trying to make amends here. Part of that stupid whatever-step drug and alcohol program.
That brought her up short. "You're sober?" Jimmy hadn't been a drunk, per se, but he'd definitely enjoyed going out partying, where a number of illicit substances were used and abused. Hell, she'd gone to a lot of those parties too. They'd been fun, at first, but attending almost nightly was rough, especially if she had to be up early the following morning to open the shop. She hadn't minded that he continued, as long as he was okay with the fact that she only wanted to go out with him on the weekends. But even those stopped being fun after a while, especially when she saw how absolutely wasted Jimmy got, and how he turned into a different person, one who didn't respect her or her decisions.
Been sober for six months now. So please. Let me make amends.
Rose nearly snapped back that she didn't owe him anything, least of all letting him try to atone for all of the hurt he'd caused. Why should he be absolved of that guilt, when she'd been doing her damnedest to forget Jimmy Stone and the life she'd had with him, the good and the bad.
But would this be the final closure she needed? If she let him say his piece and leave, would that also bring healing for her?
In her current state of mind, no, it wouldn't.
"I need time," she typed. "I won't block you if you promise not to message me until I tell you I'm ready. Seeing a message from you after all this time… It messed with my head today. And I need to take time for myself. I've worked so hard to forget about you."
I know. I'm so sorry, Rose. That's why I want to apologize.
"Not right now," she said. "I'll contact you when I'm ready. If you're serious about wanting to atone, you'll give me time and space. Though don't hold your breath."
Fair enough.
Rose waited, but nothing else was forthcoming. Was he actually going to abide by her wishes and leave her alone until she was ready to talk? Was she ever going to be ready to talk? Why should she?
But he was putting in the effort to make amends, to get better. He'd reached out for help. That was more than she could say; in the three years that had passed, she'd barely spoken a word of how bad their relationship had gotten. She hadn't gone into details with her mum, and she'd shared a bit of it with James, enough that he knew the gist of it all, but not everything. Nor had she reached out to a professional, yet Jimmy fucking Stone had?
Rose dropped her phone to the floor and fell back onto her couch, sprawling out across the length of it. She was so tired, but her brain wouldn't switch off. She tossed and turned on the sofa for the next hour before she picked up her exhausted body and ran herself a bath. With the water as hot as she could stand it, she slipped beneath the bubbles, groaning when the hot water soothed her tense muscles. She didn't necessarily fall asleep in the tub, but she drifted away from consciousness for a while, her mind blissfully quiet for the first time that day.
She stayed in the bath until the water was cool and her skin pruny. At least her head was a little clearer, and she wasn't on the verge of crying or vomiting anymore. That was a win in her book.
Getting dressed in more of James's clothes, she went back to her living room for her phone. There were no new messages from Jimmy, but there was one from James.
Thinking of you and loving you xoxo.
Her heart squeezed. How lucky was she to have such an amazing man for her boyfriend? All of a sudden, she wanted nothing more than to see him.
"Will you come 'round?" she texted. "I'm not gonna be good company. But sitting in silence with you sounds better than sitting in silence by myself. But if you don't want to, that's okay. I was really rude to you. I'm so sorry."
James replied almost immediately. You have nothing to apologize for. However, if it makes you feel better, apology accepted. 100% accepted.
Would you like me to bring anything? You didn't eat much. I can bring some ingredients to cook for you. Or I can pick up a pizza or something. Whatever you want, love.
"Pizza sounds good." It didn't, really, but no food sounded good.
I'll come by 'round six? Is that all right?
Rose glanced at her clock. Another two hours until she could see him. She wished he could come by sooner, but she couldn't ask any more of him today.
"Yep! See you then xoxo."
While she waited, Rose caught up on some cleaning she'd neglected, then she sat down to research a few topics for her composition essay. She hopped from one task to another to distract herself from her scattered thoughts. Her past and her present were colliding in ways she never expected. Jimmy was supposed to stay locked away in the box inside her mind until she decided to let him out. He wasn't supposed to break free and take over without warning.
And James. James was her happy place. Her home. He was everything she wanted in a partner, and was everything she never expected to find. He was gentle, soft, and tender, the exact opposite of what Jimmy had been.
Her relationship with Jimmy had been a wildfire—hot and heavy, thrilling, raging, all-consuming, out of control. He'd been her first love, her first everything. With Jimmy, she'd grown from a girl into a woman. Not just because she'd started having sex, but because she experienced love and longing and responsibility. She'd moved away from home and got a job to pay her own way in the world. She'd gained the independence that all teenagers had to find eventually, and she did it with a man she adored, and a man that adored her. And when things went bad, they'd gotten bad so slowly that it was like being submerged in water that was gradually getting hotter; she didn't realize she was being boiled until the damage had been done.
But James… James was a log fire in a hearth. He was bright and warm, cozy and familiar, sensual and eternal, a source of comfort she didn't know she wanted. He was her home in every sense of the word. He was the place she always wanted to go to at the end of every day. There was no uncertainty with him; she never had to wonder or worry about what mood he would be in. She never had to pretend with him.
How could she ever have thought what she'd had with Jimmy was true love? The love she'd had for Jimmy was a floating ember to James's inferno.
She was suddenly impatient to see her boyfriend; it took every ounce of restraint to not text him and ask him to come by sooner. She knew he was done with classes, but she also knew he liked to take Friday evenings to get most of his homework done so he could spend his weekends with her.
Finally, at exactly 5:59, there was a knock on the door. She flung it open. James stood in the corridor, his hair slightly disheveled; he smiled when he saw her, but the expression didn't meet his eyes.
"I bring offerings of cheesy, greasy goodness," he said, holding up a pizza box.
She snorted and stepped back to let him in. The pizza smelled delicious, and her stomach, which had had nothing all day apart from half of a small salad, gave a painful gurgle.
"You're a keeper," she said, trying to keep her voice purposefully light, as though she hadn't been in a bad mood all day.
"I do my best." He set the pizza box on the counter, then moved to her cabinets for plates. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," she admitted. "Not great, but better."
"Better is good," he said. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Will you be offended if I say no?"
James frowned at her. "Of course not. I know how annoying it is when people want to force you to talk. I won't press for anything you don't want to willingly share with me."
Her heart sank. He thought she didn't trust him to share things with him? Well, clearly he was right.
"Maybe later," she said. "I feel fragile. I'd rather not talk about anything right now."
James nodded and he took two slices of pizza, then dropped onto her couch. Rose also took two pieces and sat beside him.
In silence, they ate their food. Carefully, cautiously, Rose scooted closer to him until her hip was flush with his. He hummed and wrapped an arm around her waist, eating one-handed. Relieved by the invitation, Rose rested her head in the crook of his shoulder as she ate her own pizza.
Neither of them spoke, but at least it wasn't awkward. Rather, it felt like a normal date night, albeit without their usual banter. James's fingers absently walked up and down her side, then followed the strip of bare skin where her hoodie had ridden up her stomach. He circled that path of skin repeatedly, flexing his wrist and fingers to stroke from her belly, along her waist, then creeping towards her back. She shivered as, again and again, he brushed her hip, dipping his fingers just beneath her tracksuit bottoms to run his fingertips across her waistline.
Fuck.
Heat raged through her veins, an aching, desperate fire that consumed her and pushed away any lingering sadness and anxiety. All she wanted, in this moment, was to forget about everything apart from James and the love that they shared. She wanted to show James how much she cared for him, and how appreciative she was that he was in her life. And she wanted to be shown how much she was cared for in return.
Setting her empty plate atop his, she moved them to the floor then settled herself in his lap, her knees straddling his thighs. His hands went to her bum, resting there but not moving. He smiled up at her, and she couldn't help but lean in for a hug.
With how she towered above him, his face was level with her breasts; he nuzzled into them. She rested her cheek in his hair, then kissed the top of his head.
"I love you."
"Love you, too," he replied, squeezing her waist. "Very much."
Rose pulled back a fraction, far enough to cup his cheeks and tilt his face up for a kiss. She could taste the remnants of their dinner on his lips. James's mouth parted slightly for her, his jaw flexing in her palms as he chased her lips.
Their rhythm was slow and steady, a lazy back-and-forth, catch-and-release cycle they preferred. She took his bottom lip between hers, then he reciprocated. Whenever her tongue teased at the seam of his lips, he would return the gesture.
She hadn't realized how tense his body was until he lost himself in her, melting into the couch and cradling her further into his lap. She knew it was her fault. He had every right to be on edge after she'd gone and freaked out on him without explaining what was wrong. And she hated it. She hated herself for her bad mood affecting him.
"I love you," she said again, desperate for him to know, deep in his very soul, how much she cherished him. She couldn't begin to imagine how much worse today would have been if not for his solid, comforting presence in the maelstrom of anxiety.
Before he could respond, she caught his lips in another kiss, this one more frenzied than the ones they'd been sharing. She sucked on his bottom lip, scraping her teeth across it until he gasped and clenched his fingers hard into her bum.
She felt the way his entire body shuddered beneath her, especially when she threaded her fingers through his hair and tugged. The whining moan he let out made her core clench, stoking the fire blazing in her belly. Curiously, Rose rocked her hips forward into his. There was a definitive bulge between his legs—not fully hard, but well on his way.
"I'm sorry about today," she said between heated kisses. Fuck, he felt good. "I'm so sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry for."
But she did. She'd been an emotional wreck, and she couldn't even give him the courtesy of explaining. The least she could do was apologize, both with her words and her body. Rose pressed herself his burgeoning erection, slowly rubbing against it and loving that she could feel him getting hard beneath her, because of her.
He hissed. His hands grabbed at her waist, but rather than guide her into a slow grind, he held her still.
"Rose, wait. Stop. What are you doing?"
"Tryna kiss you. And other things. If that's okay."
Oh, God, what if he wasn't in the mood to make love? What right did she have to want to seek comfort in his body, in their love, after how poorly she'd treated him today? Why would he even want her in this way?
"Shit. Sorry," she mumbled, shifting her weight away from the front of his trousers. "I'm sorry."
"Slow down," he said gently, bracing his hands on her hips to keep her in his lap. "I need a quick check-in, though. You're obviously having a really bad day. And I need to make sure… You don't need to make it up to me, or anything. I hope you know that. You don't owe me anything. I'm not angry or upset with you. I'm worried about you. So please don't feel like you need to have sex with me or something to… well, for whatever reason. Having sex… making love… it's an activity we do together because we're in love with each other and want to express it physically. Yeah? It's not something to be used or bargained with."
James brushed her hair from where it had fallen into her face, tucking the strands behind her ears. She leaned into his touch, then turned her head to the side to kiss the inside of his wrist. He was right. He was absolutely right. But at the same time, he had it wrong. While she was guilty for the way she'd acted today, she didn't feel like she owed him sex. Not the way he seemed to be interpreting her actions.
"I'm not trying to use it like that," she said, trying to collect her scattered thoughts. "I'm not… I don't know how to explain it. I want you, James. I need you. I need to feel you, to touch you, to love you. I need…" I need you to love me. I need to feel loved. To feel safe. To feel cherished. "I want to be with you in this way that's only ours. And I do feel bad for how I've acted today, but that's not why I'm doing this." Not entirely, at least.
James's eyes scanned hers for long enough that she was sure he was going to push her off his lap. But he didn't. He took her face in his hands and pulled her down for another kiss, this one the gentlest of the night.
"Let's take this to the bedroom, love." He planted butterfly kisses all across her cheeks, her chin, the bridge of her nose. "Let me love you. Let me kiss your body and let me share mine with you."
Rose would have been content to let him have his filthy way with her on the sofa, but when he said it so romantically, she couldn't deny him the luxury of a bed.
Leaving their dirty dishes on the floor, Rose guided James down the short hall to her bedroom. Wasting no time, they stripped out of their clothes and fell onto the bed together in a tangle of limbs. James's lips and fingertips touched every part of her, worshipping her and loving her. He whispered words of devotion and comfort into her skin until Rose was on the cusp of crying. How could such a beautiful person love someone like her? Didn't he deserve so much better than someone who couldn't even tell him why she'd been so upset?
"Stay with me," he murmured into her collarbone as his fingers painted a roadmap of desire up and down her thigh. "Stay with me, Rose. Stay out of your head and be with me here. I love you."
His touch awakened her body until it was singing with heat and pleasure and a raw, all-consuming need. His fingers between her legs teased and stroked her, readying her. Not that she'd needed much coaxing; the sheer closeness of his body, the slide of his skin against hers, was more than enough to spark that wet, throbbing, delicious heat between her thighs.
They remained on their sides when they finally joined together, their fronts flush against each other. Rose wrapped her thigh around his hip, curling her leg around the back of his to anchor their lower bodies. One of her arms was beneath his neck, and she fisted that hand through his hair; her other hand leisurely explored his back, holding his upper body to her.
She buried her face into his neck, breathing in the scent of him as they began to move. He smelled so good, and felt even better. With every thrust of his body, every caress of his hands, Rose could almost forget her foul mood.
"Oh, Rose," he gasped when he moved a certain way that was particularly pleasurable for him. "Oh, love. My love."
She whimpered, tears burning behind her eyes for seemingly the dozenth time that day even as the coil in her stomach tightened. Fuck, this wasn't going to last much longer.
"I- I love you," she managed to say before her tears spilled over. She squeezed her eyes shut to try to keep them back, not wanting to alarm James or to pull him out of the moment. He was getting close too, she knew, from the slightly frenetic pace he'd set and the low, guttural grunts on every inward thrust.
His hand moved between them to the place where they were joined. He rubbed her in time with his movements, and she was lost. Her nails bit into the soft skin of his back as she clung to him, crying out her release in a choked sob. Her body thrummed and pulsed with ecstasy and heartbreak, joy and misery, pain and pleasure. James was all around her, holding her as tightly as she held him, and her heart ached with how much she loved him.
James was still moving, thrusting hard and fast into her, chasing his own pleasure now. Trying to help him over the cusp he was dangling on, Rose tightened her inner muscles around him. She scraped her nails down his back then grabbed his bum, squeezing, letting her nails dig in ever so slightly in the way she learned he loved. She could feel the tension, the strain, the flex and relaxation as he thrust and thrust and thrust…
"Ohhh, fuck," he rasped, his breath coming in choppy pants.
His hips stuttered then arched deeply into hers as he released inside her with a string of groaned curses. Moaning, he held her impossibly closer, her name a prayer on his lips. He trembled and convulsed in her arms, even when the sensation of him throbbing within her subsided.
She removed her hand from his arse and instead placed it on the small of his back, pressing her palm to his skin. Rose kept her face tucked into his chest for a long time after, not wanting to move from the cocoon of his arms. Her body was flushed with endorphins and lingering pleasure; she never wanted to lose this feeling. She didn't want to go back into her own mind.
"I love you." He nuzzled his cheek into the top of her head, not in any sort of rush to move either. "I'm so sorry you're out of sorts today."
"I love you, too," she answered, kissing his collarbone. He shivered in her arms, so she did it again. "Thank you for being here with me."
"Anytime. I want to share everything with you, Rose. The good and the bad. Even if you don't want to talk about it, I want to be here with you. Like you are for me. And maybe there's nothing wrong. Maybe you're just having a bad day. I still want to be here with you, to make you feel a little less alone."
And there it was. He'd given her an out, if she wanted to take it. She wouldn't have to explain Jimmy to him, if she didn't want to.
But she did want to. Or, at least, she thought she did.
Between the exhaustion of the day and that marvelously overwhelming round of sex, however, her mind was fried. All she wanted to do was hold and be held by James, and not say anything that wasn't a profession of her love for him.
Hopefully soon she would be able to have the mental energy and strength to tell him about Jimmy. She wanted to tell him everything. Everything. She wanted to tell him how wonderful Jimmy had been when they'd first met, because he had been wonderful. She wanted James to know the person she'd fallen in love with. She wanted to tell him in excruciating, painful detail how it all fell apart. And she wanted to tell him that she was slowly realizing she never dealt with the aftermath of the breakup. Most of all, she wanted to heal and get better, and for James to be right beside her as she did so.
Just… not tonight.
"I'm glad you're here," Rose said, squeezing him tightly, near tears again with how very much she loved him.
"Anytime," he repeated. "Would you like me to stay the night, or would you prefer to be alone?"
"Please don't go," she said, even as she hated herself for how selfish she was being.
"Good, because I'm rather comfy here," he said, sighing deeply.
"Oh, wait. The cats. You can't stay."
"They're fine. I… er… When you asked me to come over… Well, I didn't want to presume, but I'd hoped… I stopped by my house to feed the boys before coming over here. Just in case."
Rose's heart swelled in her chest; even though she'd been an awful girlfriend today, he had taken precautions to ensure he could spend the night with her, to spend more time with her.
"I'm glad you're here," she whispered, untucking her face from his chest to look up at him.
His cheeks were still a bit flushed and he had that post orgasm glaze to his eyes. She brushed his hair off of his forehead, then wriggled up a few inches so her face was level with his. He automatically shifted his head back, giving her more room on the pillow.
Nose to nose, Rose scanned his features, tracing the dusting of freckles along his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. His day-old stubble darkened his otherwise pale cheeks, and she lifted her fingers to caress it, enjoying the scrape.
He hummed, his eyes fluttering shut. Rose walked her fingers across the planes of his face, tracing the shell of his ear then ghosting down the curve of his jaw to his neck. She could just barely feel the steady beat of his pulse at his neck.
She caressed his cheeks again then brushed the arch of his eyebrow, continuing higher to run her fingers through his hair. It was beautiful, so soft and strong; she could play with it for hours. If they ever did have children one day, she hoped they inherited his hair.
"That feels nice," he murmured, the words rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest, reminiscent of a cat's purr.
"For me too," she replied, continuing her ministrations.
Rose leaned down and caught his lips in a soft kiss. He clumsily returned the pressure of the kiss, but was interrupted with a seemingly involuntary sigh whenever she lightly scratched at his scalp.
"God, that feels good," he repeated as she moved her kisses to his neck.
She laved her tongue and teeth across his skin, shivering as his stubble tickled her lips. The quiet moans he let out every few minutes began to send heat between her thighs, despite the fact that she'd been thoroughly satiated barely ten minutes ago. A quick glance down told her James was rather enjoying her touches.
"Sorry," he muttered, having realized what she'd noticed. "Bloody thing always pops up around you."
"I'll take that as a compliment," she teased, flashing him a genuine grin. There was something intoxicating about being able to arouse him with simple touches.
"It'll go down on its own," he promised.
Rose hummed noncommittally, unsure whether she wanted to do something with James's renewed arousal, or whether she was content to continue as she'd been. The heat between her thighs was a dull ache, one that could either burn itself out or one that could be fanned to life. She didn't know which she would prefer—or what he would prefer—so she continued caressing James's hair and kissing him.
She should have known that they wouldn't be able to stop. With every passing minute, James grew harder until he was twitching lightly against his belly. Seeing how worked up he was getting only served to heighten her own arousal until it was an insistent throb between her legs.
"Again?" she asked from where she was making a pink mark that would fade by morning at the side of his neck.
He arched his head back, giving her more room. "If you want to."
Rose frowned. He'd been quite passive for most of the evening. Was he actually a willing participant, or was he going along with it for her sake? Was she using him?
"Do you want to?" she pressed.
"I always enjoy making love with you."
Not exactly an answer, but he rolled onto his back and urged her astride him, where she rocked and moved above him, against him, as they made slow and lazy love for the second time that night.
oOoOo
James didn't get much sleep, and any sleep he did manage to get wasn't restful. His mind refused to shut off—despite the haze of post-orgasmic endorphins—worried as he was for Rose. Her behavior today had been… heartbreaking. He was no stranger to mood swings, but he had never seen Rose in such a state. He had seen her upset, crying, angry, and everything in between, but never afraid. And she clearly was afraid of something. Or at least extremely stressed.
It had gutted him when she'd broken down in the food court. He'd been offended, at first, by her assumption that he wouldn't pay for her food, upset that she thought so little of him. Beneath that was fury at Jimmy Stone; from the glimpses of her ex that Rose had shared with him, Jimmy had done quite a bit of damage before Rose managed to get free of him. And James knew, without a doubt, without Rose needing to tell him, that Jimmy had probably held a grudge once—more than once—and had refused to pay for something for Rose after they'd had an argument.
He hated Jimmy for that, and he suspected he would always hate him for that. But James wished he knew how he could work Rose through her lingering trauma and insecurities. It killed him to not know what to do. He ached for her. There was a genuine, physical pain in his chest, made worse because he didn't know how to help her. Would it be better to leave her alone to sift through her thoughts, or to ask her about it, and press her to talk? But he knew sometimes that talking was the farthest thing from helpful. How many times had his mood been made worse when his aunt or teachers or therapists tried to force him to open up? How many times had he exploded in anger, telling them all to fuck the hell off and leave him alone? How many times had he screamed or cried into a pillow in an attempt to release the boiling rage and helplessness that had threatened to eat him alive?
And how many times had his mood been calmed by a friend willing to just sit quietly with him? The night Rose had come to his house with soup and a willingness to sit with him watching lighthearted movies had done more for him than an entire day of lonely brooding. She hadn't pressed him to talk, but she made it clear that she would listen to him if he wanted or needed to. He was fairly certain he was in love with her by that point, but that night was when he knew, without a doubt, that he loved her as more than a friend.
He wished Rose would feel as comfortable confiding in him.
Wait, no. That wasn't fair. He knew Rose was comfortable with him. He knew she trusted him.
And yet… and yet there was that small part of him that was upset that he had spilled his guts to her about his parents, but she wasn't doing the same for him.
He knew it wasn't fair, though, so he desperately tried to quash that little voice in the back of his mind that told him that she wasn't being as open with him as he was with her.
Instead, James held her closer. Not that they could get much closer. He loved spending nights with Rose, but he had to admit, trying to fall asleep with her on her full-size bed wasn't nearly as comfortable as them sharing his queen-size. On one hand, he loved being able to hold her so intimately, but on the other, it would've been nice to be able to sprawl out a bit more without worrying about falling off the edge of the mattress. Or accidentally smacking her.
Rose, at least, seemed to be sleeping well. She'd barely stirred in his arms and her chest was rising and falling steadily with her deep, even breaths.
As he watched her, his throat swelled shut. He loved her. God, he loved her more than he'd ever loved anyone. More than he knew he could love someone.
Suddenly he didn't care that she hadn't told him what had upset her today. He didn't care if she never told him. He just wanted her to feel better. He wanted her to wake up with a smile and to know how loved and cherished she was. He wanted her to know that he was there for her, and would always be there for her.
He nuzzled his nose deeper into her hair, breathing her in. The scent of her soothed him, and managed to quiet his thoughts enough to let him drift out of consciousness.
It wasn't a deep sleep, and he awoke far earlier than he wanted to. A glance at the window, where pearly gray light was seeping through the blinds, told him it was before sunrise. His full, cramping bladder forced him out of bed, though, and rather than go back to bed with Rose, he quietly tiptoed to her kitchen to make breakfast.
Her cupboards were getting pretty bare, and he frowned. She could afford groceries, couldn't she? He knew her hours at work were drastically reduced, thanks to classes, and he knew she tried to make time for him too; he would have to make sure she knew she could work more hours if she needed the extra money. While he wished he could spend every waking and sleeping hour with her, he knew that wasn't feasible. Or healthy.
He managed to scrounge up enough ingredients to make pancakes from scratch.
When he flipped the last pancake, he heard the toilet flush. He peeked down the hall and saw Rose step, bleary-eyed, out of the loo. Like him, she hadn't bothered to get dressed and paraded naked down the hall towards him.
"Morning," he said, letting his gaze wander up and down her body.
"Mmm, mornin'," she replied through a yawn. "Smells good."
"I thought I'd surprise you with breakfast," he said. "Wanna have breakfast in bed?"
"To eat food, or something else?" she asked, her eyes twinkling.
His knees wobbled. If she was teasing him, flirting with him, she must be feeling a bit better. He didn't know what he would have done if she'd been in the same despondent mood as yesterday.
"Food first," he said, "then we can see about the something else."
Despite the fact that he'd found his pleasure twice the night before, his body began responding to the prospect of a repeat performance. His skin turned warm and his groin went tight. Rose smirked and glanced down; he knew she could see him beginning to stir.
"Delicious," she purred.
"Stop that," he whined. "I really do want to eat first. I'm starved."
Rose winked at him, but dutifully turned her attention to the food.
James cracked a few eggs into the pan while Rose went to her fridge for orange juice, splitting what was left in the carton between two cups.
"You need to get some groceries," he said lightly. "Are you all right with cash?"
"Yep. Just been putting it off. I was planning to get some after work tonight."
"Oh, bugger, I forgot you work today. What time? Noon to seven?"
Rose nodded.
"I can drive you there, and pick you up tonight so you don't have to take the bus with bags full of groceries. If you want."
"That sounds nice," she said with a small smile. The expression slipped when she said, "I… I'm sorry about yesterday."
James stayed quiet, hoping it would encourage her to keep speaking. He focused intently on the eggs, though, knowing it was often easier to talk when you weren't being watched.
"Thank you for spending the night with me," she said, and his heart fell. "It was nice to have you here. I'm sorry I wasn't good company."
"You've done the same for me," he said, keeping his tone even. "I know life isn't sunshine and rainbows. The plan is to spend forever with you, so I know there will be times when you or I—or both of us—will be in shit moods. I'll never abandon you during a shit mood, unless you tell me you'd like to be alone."
Rose let out a sigh, her shoulders relaxing. James, meanwhile, ground his teeth together. Why didn't she want to talk to him?
"Thank you," she repeated.
He nearly jolted when Rose came up behind him and wrapped him in a hug. His skin sparked beneath hers, at the sensation of the front of her body pressing into his back and bum. She locked her arms around his hips and squeezed.
"I love you so much, James," she murmured, kissing the center of his back between his shoulder blades. "More than I can tell you. I'm so grateful to have you in my life." She kissed him again. "Thank you for understanding. It's nice to know that someone else gets it. That you know what it's like to have your thoughts all twisted up in your head. They barely make sense to me, so trying to tell someone else… Thank you."
James's irritation left him in a great gust of shame. He relaxed his jaw and reached down to give Rose's hands a soft squeeze. Of course she wasn't purposely not sharing her feelings. Of course she wasn't.
"When your thoughts untangle themselves," he said, caressing her wrist bone with his thumb, "I'll be here to listen."
He felt more than heard Rose's heavy exhale. She continued peppering kisses from shoulder blade to shoulder blade as she whispered, "God, I love you."
"I love you, too," he answered. "Food's ready."
With a parting kiss, she stepped away from him. He plated their meal and gestured for her go back to the bedroom. She bit her lip and winked at him, then picked up their glasses of orange juice and led the way down the hall. His eyes zeroed in on her naked body, from her shoulders to the planes of her back to the valley of her spine and the subtle dimples above her bum. It all looked so inviting, so smooth and so soft. His hands began to tremble as he felt himself getting hard. He wanted to touch her, to hold her.
"Like what you see?" she asked innocently when they'd made it into the bedroom.
There was no hiding his reaction. "You're beautiful. I love looking at you."
She beamed, her whole face lighting up. "Food first. Then more looking."
"Just looking?" he asked, making a show of checking her out from head to toe.
"Well," she drawled, "I guess there can be some touching, too."
He waggled his eyebrows at her, then joined her on the bed. She had kicked the blankets to the floor and propped the pillows along the wall at the head of the bed, giving them something to lean against.
They were pressed hip to hip, thigh to thigh as they ate. The sensation of so much of her skin brushing across his did nothing to calm the erection that grew more insistent as they ate. Rose noticed too, and as a result, she leaned against him and rested her cheek on his shoulder, letting her breath puff at his ear whenever she wasn't busy shoveling more food into her mouth.
She finished eating first, mostly because he kept forgetting about the food on his plate whenever the sensation of her breath on his neck and ear shot delicious shivers down his spine.
Rose set her plate on the nightstand beside the bed, then she lay down beside him, her head at his hip. She propped her head into one of her hands while her other hand began tracing shapes onto his thigh.
Her fingertips wandered tantalizingly close to where he was aching with desire, but she never touched him. She continued the teasing torture while he finished eating. There were a few bites left on his plate when he could no longer focus on the food.
"Please," he whispered, clumsily setting his plate atop hers on the nightstand. "Touch me."
Rose looked up at him, her eyes burning with her own arousal. But rather than sit up and crawl into his lap, as he was expecting, she shifted down a few more inches, then leaned over his lap.
"Shit," he squeaked when she slotted her mouth over him.
She hummed around his length, making his body convulse as a sharp, intense bolt of pleasure tightened his gut. God, it felt amazing. While her tongue and lips teased the tip of him, her hand leisurely pumped the rest of him; the dual sensation was enough to white out his vision and make his ears ring.
His heart hammered in his chest, frantically pumping blood and endorphins through his body as his pleasure mounted.
"Rose, fuck, I'm sorry, I'm not gonna last if you keep this up," he warned, the telltale tingle already growing at the base of his spine.
She hummed around him again and he groaned, clenching his fingers and toes to try to stave off his release.
"Please," he croaked.
She pulled off of him, and he didn't know whether to whine in relief or disappointment.
"S'okay," she said, then she absently swirled her tongue over the tip of him. "You can come."
"You don't want me…?" He gestured vaguely towards her lap, ears burning when she giggled.
"You can reciprocate," she promised, winking. "Sit back and enjoy. Unless… you don't want to come like this?"
"God, yes. Please." He loved being inside Rose, but there was something addictive about the sensations of her mouth and hand on him at the same time.
She grinned and slotted her mouth over him once more. James struggled to keep his eyes open to watch her pleasure him. His body was shaking apart, the tightness behind his navel almost unbearable.
He lost the battle with his eyes when she drummed her tongue across the sensitive underside of his erection. His head thunked against the wall and fisted his hands in the sheets.
"Feels so good," he hissed, his hips straining with the effort of remaining still.
She hummed around him in answer and he whimpered, the pressure in his belly flaring.
"I'm gonna come," he managed to grit out.
Just in time, too. The heat burned through his lower body, expanding outwards. Rose bore down on him, stroking him firmly as she hollowed out her cheeks.
A rush of pleasure thrummed through his veins as he squirmed on the bed, releasing helplessly into her mouth with a grunt of relief and satisfaction. His heart raced in time with the tingling throbs of pleasure as Rose worked him through it.
"God," he rasped, his vision swimming.
Rose had let go of him by now and was smiling up at him from the pillows.
"I love doing that," she admitted.
"Why?" he asked, dazed.
He slid down the bed until his face was level with hers and caught her lips in a gentle kiss of thanks.
"Why do you like going down on me?" she asked with a shrug. "Probably the same reason I like going down on you."
Oh. He'd never thought of that before. He loved going down on her because he loved giving her pleasure and making her feel good; it never dawned on him that Rose might enjoy giving oral for the exact same reason.
"Well, thank you," he said with another kiss.
"You are very welcome. And thanks again, for bein' here with me. I know you said I don't owe you anything, but still. Thank you."
"You are very welcome," he said. He leaned over for another kiss, and he used his upper body to push Rose down into the mattress. He trailed his lips down her neck to the hollow of her throat. "You don't have to be at work for another couple of hours." He scraped his teeth across the angles of her collarbone. "How should we pass the time?"
"You're off to a pretty good start," she said, her voice breathy. She threaded her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp while he trailed kisses all along her chest. "Wouldn't mind if you did this forever."
"That can certainly be arranged," he murmured into her skin. Then he settled himself between her thighs where he spent the next half hour teasing her with kisses and caresses before finally letting her fall over the edge and into oblivion.
As always, if you've read this chapter, I would love to hear from you.