Update because Nan asked and I adore her.
62.
Tension released.
Sated.
For now.
In Edward's bed, under white sheets. They're so soft. I never want to leave.
It's a strange thought, but it's there. I'm not exactly in my right mind. I've been thoroughly fucked by the man I claim to hate.
Yet this yearning feels nothing like loathing.
He's next to me. Not quite spooning or snuggling, just tangled. Limbs and lips never too far.
I stare at the dark wood ceiling.
"I love your house."
"What's your place like?" he wonders.
"Smaller. Cozier."
"Can we go there next time?" he asks.
I'm smug. Elated. "Next time?"
63.
"Is that presumptuous?" he asks seriously, expression almost endearing.
"I have been known to think of you as a presumptuous asshole," I tease, kissing him.
He doesn't look surprised. "When?"
"When you barged into my office that morning."
Recognition flashes in his eyes. "I hated not knowing where you were. You rarely call out. Seemed like it was because of me."
His honesty spurs mine.
"It was. I was spiraling. Confused about the way you made me feel…"
Now that we've let our guard down, we're being more open, it seems.
I have a question I've been dying to ask.