IN TOO DEEP
CHAPTER 25
What an amazing weekend, probably one of the best ones I've had in a long time. For once, there's no hours spent doing homework or having to cook for Kate back in our campus apartment so neither of us starve. For once, it's just simply decadently lazy. Blissful. Somehow easy and simple.
All Saturday, Christian and I spend our entire day in the Heathman master suite, just lying around in the bed, tangled beneath the sheets.
We do nothing but order room service and eat. Then we talk, and kiss, eat some more, and then maybe talk all over again.
But sadly, like I am noticing lately ever ytime I am around him, time goes too quickly. Before I know it, I'm waking on a bright and early Sunday morning where I'll have to leave and part ways with Christian until we see each other again.
I'll have to return back to the apartment and normal college life all over again. And I actually dread it. The mere thought, it leaves the faintest impression of a weird gaping hole inside the center of my chest.
Time is obviously not on my side, and it sucks. I find myself not quite ready for this to end yet.
Why can't the outside world just shut up and go away for a little while longer so that it's just me and him?
Why can't time stand still for once and work in my favor?
The bed moves a little on his side, making his wakefulness known to me. A little reluctantly, I turn on my back, peering over down at him. Just as my suspicions told me, he's awake now, just as I thought. Christian rubs his eyes, a loud yawn escaping him as he rests on the pillow next to mine. The luxurious silk sheets from the hotel- they've crumpled just inches below his belly button, making his nudity below the sheets even more visible to me. I flush at the thought of last night and what it had entailed between us, much like the evening before it. Now, sex isn't so much such a strange thing that happens in my view anymore. No, now it's completely liberating, completely enjoyable and exciting. Probably because he's made it feel that way for me. His nudity beneath the sheets suddenly brings an awareness into my state as well. I'm wearing no bra, no underwear. I'm as nude as he is and yet, the way it feels, my skin gliding against the cool silk sheets, the occasional way his bare skin would slap and slide against my bare skin...
Nudity doesn't seem to bother me much anymore either. At first, I had been so shy, so self-conscious about baring my body. Now, I've hardly given much thought into it. Now I feel completely at ease and free.
"Morning, Ana," he breathes suddenly as he peers up at me, his voice a little rough and deep from sleep.
"Mmm, a very good morning to you too," I murmur back softly, and then I have to press my lips together to try to stile the impulse to smile over the wicked thought that overcomes me, a thought literally out of nowhere. I wonder what he'd do if I tried to tie him to the bed, preventing him from leaving. I really do wish this weekend hadn't gone so quickly.
"What?" he asks suspiciously after a moment. Apparently me hiding my smile hadn't been so successful after all. "What's got you smiling over there like that, Anastasia?" His voice wavers a little with early morning cheer.
I hesitate while sitting up slowly propped up on an elbow, nibbling down on my bottom lip. Should I tell him the truth? Or would he think I've gone insane?
"I was just thinking how sad it is that it's already a Sunday and that we'll have to be leaving the hotel room very shortly," I murmur, not completely being untruthful. "The time's gone too fast and it isn't fair."
I'm not sure if he believes me or not that that's it. He stares at me for a moment longer, blinking slowly, his eyes glittering. Then he lets out a loud sigh through his nostrils and brings up his left hand, twining his fingers through the strands of his hair absently. "I know what you mean, Anastasia. It went fast for me too."
That wicked thought flashes in my mind again. I'm split between two sides; I want to do it, but on another hand, I'm a little... nervous to.
But then, I just decide, why the heck not? Why bother with feeling shy anymore?
Trying to stifle my grin and failing immediately while I'm at it, I get up on my knees on the mattress, tugging the sheet down slightly off of us. Heat flares around my face and bare chest as I meet and hold Christian's gaze while I move one leg over his stomach to the other side of him, until I manage to safely straddle him around the waist. As I plop back down safely and gently against his stomach, but on him this time rather than the mattress with my knees around him, I see his eyes are hooded as he watches my every move as I sit above him.
There, that wasn't so hard now, was it, on just following through on the first thing my mind tells me to do?
And Christian clearly doesn't mind me taking the initiative either... After closing his slack jaw and recovering from the shock, he reaches down with both hands, gripping my hips strongly in them.
"Sorry," I mutter without thought, my voice embarrassingly high and husky. "But it was either me sitting on you and straddling you, or me tying you to the bed to prolong this so that we don't have to leave yet. Since I couldn't think of anything to tie you up with, I settled for the first- and most easiest- option."
That spine-tingling chuckle he gives me makes me feel winded. "So you chose holding me down with your temptingly soft body instead?" He sounds breathless, his eyes on nothing else but mine as he resumes caressing me with his hands. I don't think I'll ever enjoy anyone's hands on me like I do his. There's just no way.
"Yep," I whisper.
"Well, either way, I'm not complaining." He licks his lips, something heated building there in his eyes that makes me feel a little warm all over. "You can hold me down with your body whenever you like. For however long you like even."
For however long I like?
"I surrender."
I watch his face closely as he starts dragging his hands up, tracing his finger tips up and down the curvature of my spine gently. It almost tickles. An uncontrollable shiver convulses through me as he licks his lips again, his eyes roaming downwards past my chin. Even although I feel more comfortable with my body now, I still can't help the small niggling feeling to cover my breasts and my nipples as his eyes fixate on them. I suppose I'll never truly get rid of that one insecurity, no matter how positive he reacts over them.
"Your skin feels so good, and soft," he mutters, sort of distractedly, as he traces his fingers back down the length of my spine slowly. When he reaches lower to where my buttocks begins, the hollow dip there, I feel a surge of longing filter through me. "And it's all like that, too. Every part of you- it's so soft and smooth."
He moves back a little while grasping onto my hips, keeping me there, making himself more comfortable as he leans his back and head against the headboard behind him. He bends his knees and legs a little so that I'm a bit more supported with them behind me. Now he's made it so he is sitting up while I straddle him, but because I'm still a little higher and on his stomach, he's essentially getting a face-full of my chest and my breasts. Yet the look shining in his grey eyes, the look that overcomes him at the close proximity between my breasts and his face, you'd think he's at a buffet. Or more aptly that he's seeing his favorite, good old Frank Sinatra in person.
"It's a little disarming, how happy you seem to look every time you stare at my breasts," I mutter with a short laugh, unable to help myself. Well, it's the truth. It is disarming.
"Really?" I'm graced with another spine-tingling chuckle and a smile as he moves his hands, laying them on each of my shoulder blades, his eyes going right... there. To them. Again. "Is it really that disarming to you?" His brows arch.
"It is." I don't even know why he has to ask. "Really."
"I'm sorry, Ana, but..." He clears his throat hoarsely, his hands slipping down my shoulders to the front of me, until he finally strokes the skin beneath my breasts gently. "I can't seem to help myself." I can't stop the laugh that escapes me at his obvious enjoyment, at how much he's truly enjoying himself. The smile on his face, the humor in his eyes, it's infectious. "I just love these." Without warning, he bends forward with his head, until the tip of his nose is barely inches from my right nipple. His breaths fan across my nipple, warm and steady. "But I'm sure I've already expressed enough by now just how much so that I love these..." He doesn't even prepare me for it when he opens his mouth to capture my entire nipple in it, his tongue warm. Oh... wow.
Instinctively my hands raise until I rest them in his hair, digging into the short strands of his scalp, holding him there.
I mightn't like my breasts but... with the way he suckles, the warmth and vibration it sends straight through the delicate skin on my nipple as he hums his appreciation throatily. It feels so good. Yes, so I mightn't like my breasts but the way he makes me feel so good with them, the way he pays them attention the way he does... As he releases that nipple, he does it to the other one, and a pang of sharp, hot longing darts through me. My back arches automatically, pushing my breasts into him, my long hair spilling wildly down my bare back, my fingers tightening around his head.
"That's definitely one way to start making me like- and even feel comfortable- with my breasts," I gush out, realizing how hard and heavy I'm panting.
"Well, you should be comfortable with them." He's practically speaking to my nipple.
"That's easier said than done though," I murmur shakily. "Don't you remember being my age and having body hang ups?" Surely he never did though. His body is faultless, even with the puckered scars on his chest.
"Of course I did," he breathes back with a tremulous chuckle. "I recall a time there where I wouldn't ever take off my shirt." Him telling me this, I find it both sad yet reassuring.
As Christian releases my nipple and leans back to peer up at me, he's breathing and panting just as hard as I am, I realize. Evidently just as affected as I am, things quickly turn into another.
All he has to do is hold me up a little with his hands grasping around my hips, "Stay where you are," and then he tilts with his pelvis a little, until he's finding me and he's entering inside me with me still seated on him.
He's hard and ready, and apparently his displays of appreciation over my breasts have easily readied me for him. It's painless and quick as he fills me, and then he starts to move, pushing in, out, and it doesn't take me long to follow the rhythm he's began.
It begins to feel good at once and I groan, tossing my head back, my fingers tangling in his hair. He uses my head-falling back to his advantage, a low grunt of his own escaping him as he strokes his nose into my throat, before beginning to use the slippery, hot flesh of his tongue.
It's definitely a nice way to wake up on a Sunday morning. But it's only going to make having to leave that much harder in the end when the time comes...
...
Like multiple times throughout this weekend, I end up dozing serenely, curled up in his arms, my head resting against his chest in the silk sheets. With my ear pressed up against his warm chest the way it is, I think, if I focus hard enough, if I listen carefully enough, I can start to hear his heart beat. How smoothly it pounds in tempo, how it's like music within it's own right.
One of his large hands is in my hair, his fingers smoothing back the strands gently, soothingly. He tucks a strand behind my ear, then does it with a few other stray strands. And then I have to smile quietly against his skin as his thumb strokes and plays with my earlobe a little.
"Do you know what I'm doing right now?" I whisper, hardly caring how half-asleep and incoherent I must sound to him. But apparently he must be able to understand me anyway.
"What are you doing, Ana?" His voice reverberates through his chest, sending me buzzing with vibration.
"I can hear your heart beating in your chest," I admit. "I'm listening to it."
"Can you hear my insides and bones creaking too?" The way he asks it, sort of laced with lightheartedness, I know it's meant as a joke. I don't get it though.
Although reluctantly, I tilt my head upwards a little to look up at him. I find he's staring down at me contemplatively as he brushes my hair with his fingers, his head propped up high on the pillows. I raise my eyebrows up at him in question wryly.
"And what about the cobwebs?" he murmurs next, but his face distorts with playfulness. "Can you notice cobwebs inside of me too?" He elaborates a second later with a shaking voice filled with laughter, "Rickety creaking bones and cobwebs from old age?"
It took me a moment too long to realize Christian was joking about his age. Him and his self-depreciating humor.
"Ha-ha." Reaching up with my hand, I slap him on his arm lightly. He goes out of his way to feign hurt over it, but the light in his grey eyes tells me he's still teasing. "Very funny. You know you aren't that old."
"Are you sure about that?" He mutters wryly. "I wouldn't be so sure if I were you. Besides, compared to you, I'm practically ancient."
"Ancient? You wish." It's both irritating yet funny, how self-depreciating he is, especially when it comes to his age. But I know he's wrong.
I stare at him, watching his mood deflate a little somehow. The humor gradually fades from his expression, from his eyes. "I think we better unfortunately make a start on getting dressed and getting ready to leave sooner or later," he says, any traces of teasing gone. He must see the expression that comes across my face at the mention because he sighs and nods in response. "I know, Ana. I wish we could spend another full day here too, but we can't." He sounds disappointed. Uneasy at the thought, even. "I have to be back for work tomorrow. And you have to get back to the campus for your classes tomorrow, after all."
"I know, I just don't want to."
"Me neither, but come on..." Before I can protest, he wiggles his way out from beneath me, standing from the bed, entirely naked with his glorious back and buttocks facing me. As he bends down to grab some clothes, I can't help the small huff of amusement that escapes from me. Unfortunately for me, Christian hears it. He pauses from gathering a fresh pair of his underwear and trousers to glance over at me questioningly. "What?"
"Cobwebs and creaking bones, did you say?" I mutter teasingly. "Well, have to say Mr Grey, there's nothing creaky or cobwebby about that fine ass of yours."
"Fine ass?" He repeats in astonishment, and then he makes a show of deliberately facing me with that 'fine ass' of his as he steps into his underwear. And this is so good, so much fun. The playfulness. The teasing and making fun of himself. Christian grins at me as he steps into his trousers. "Was my ass still 'fine' after that little floor show?"
"Definitely," I murmur without missing a beat. "Maybe even more so."
"So next weekend? Friday, same place?" Christian changes topic as I finally force myself out of the too comfy bed. He sounds uncertain, but also hopeful, like he's unsure whether I've changed my mind or not yet at the same time really hoping I haven't. Why he would suspect I would ever change my mind, I have no idea. Of course I'd want to see him again. I'd happily spend every single day with him if I could. Which, sadly, isn't realistic. And probably would never be. "Here, down in the foyer, 5.30?"
"I'd love to, of course. You really don't need to ask though. Just tell me when and I'll be there."
"I just thought I'd ask, in case."
"In case I end up changing my mind?" I turn to look at him while getting dressed into a clean shirt. I guess asking wasn't necessary, because the instance I look at him while he pauses from buttoning up a crisp, clean black business shirt, I know that's exactly what he meant. His face says it all.
"Well, you never know, Ana." He shrugs. "Something could always come up. You might have other things you need to do."
Other things I need to do? Like what? Does he really think I'd skip the chance to see him again, even if I have other things- like homework and school- to do, especially with how much I've missed him? But before I can ask, Christian moves around the room, walking towards the bathroom while carrying his toothbrush and a clean jacket.
"I'm just going to go quickly use the bathroom and brush my teeth. Be right back, honey," he murmurs, closing the door behind him. My cheeks flush; A delayed reaction from the term of endearment that has fallen effortlessly from his mouth. Honey. Is it pathetic how much I actually enjoy him calling me that?
Distracting myself despite how giddy I feel, I move around the room, trying to make it somewhat as neat as it was before we occupied it all weekend. I pick up all our clothes, stowing mine into my bag messily. Then I take a bit longer, folding his neatly. The shirt he wore when I first arrived to meet him at the foyer of the Heathman, his light blue dress shirt. I stroke the soft cotton fabric with my fingers, then bring it up to my nose, inhaling the cloth in deeply. Hmm, I think it almost smells like him, how he naturally smells. A hint of his cologne, and his natural masculine musky scent.
I wonder if he would miss it if it disappeared. But surely not; Knowing him, he must have lots of pairs of business shirts. He wouldn't miss just one, would he? Besides, if I'm going to have to wait a whole week until I can see him again...
Before I lose my courage, I unzip my bag, hastily pushing it into there before he can so much as even start to exit the bathroom and notice I've taken it. I find I want something of his, even if it is something small and lousy, like one of his shirts. I just need something physical, even something that he's worn, something to hold on to. I wouldn't admit it to him, of course I wouldn't out of fear of what he'd think or whether it is childish of me or not but... I can see myself cuddling it during the night.
Quickly, I move around again, pulling up the sheets on the bed, trying to make it less messy. I grab the pillow he laid on, shaking it to neaten it and straighten it out of lumps. As I do, something falls from beneath it onto the floor near the bottom of the bed. His cell phone.
As I pick it up, I accidentally end up touching the screen as well. It lights up, illuminating an alert that he has received a message from somebody. He mustn't have heard it go off because we were too preoccupied. Even by merely seeing the alert, it says who the sender is, as well as a bit of the text.
And it's... her. My heart seems to stop to a dramatic halt in my chest.
I couldn't remember your working schedule and whether you were busy on Sunday's or not, but please call me back when you have the time available to you Christian. There is something I urgently need to speak to you about.
It's from her. The fact that it says ELENA above the message says it all. His ex. Kate's mom. She's tried to get into contact with him, she wants him to call her back as soon as possible.
I gape at the text before the screen goes black, then I force myself to place his phone carefully on the dresser beside the hotel room bed.
Suddenly, I notice I feel a little ill and nauseous as the realization dawns onto me. He's still in contact with her and she needs to discuss something with him. What if she has decided that she misses him and she wants him back? What if she has broken up with the new partner and wants Christian back into her life?
Taking a deep breath, I try to think it over logically. Maybe I'm overreacting? Of course they are still in contact.
They have a daughter after all, something that permanently ties them together. But it's just the thought- her sending him a text, begging him to contact her because they need to discuss something. And how I'd seen a while back how much their divorce had effected him mentally, how upset he was due to it...
I know he says he feels he's happier now, now that he's started this with me. But what if it isn't enough? What if she did decide she wants him back? Would he take her back easily within a heartbeat?
I don't even want to think about that, because deep down... inside, deep in the heart of me, I think I know that there is a real likelihood that yes, he would take her back if she ever wanted him. How can I even begin to compare with her? Me, just essentially a kid, someone at college?
They have so much history together, so many years of marriage. History that started before I was even properly born. She was his first love, his first everything, as he told me once. How can I even compete with that?
That sick feeling only seems to become more intense when I hear the bathroom door open. Immediately I'm petrified, petrified my expression will somehow give me away, that he'll be able to read what I saw and what I'm thinking simply by just glancing at me. But as I bend down, pretending to be distracted with putting on my shoes, I don't think he notices. In the corner of my eye, I see him crouching down, grabbing his bag of belongings as well. It's only when I see him pat down his sides and his trouser pockets, that he finally speaks, breaking the silence.
"Ana, have you seen where my phone has gone by any chance? I can't remember where I put it last?"
Oh, shit. Crap. Trying to seem casual about it, I get to my feet while shuffling past him, reaching for his phone that I set down on the table. "I found it tangled in the sheets while I tried to make it up again," I explain, handing it to him. I'm not sure how my voice sounds, but I think it's convincing. "The screen lit up when I grabbed it. I think you might have gotten a text too." There, that's it. That's all I'll mention. I'll just see whether he takes the bait and mentions the text from his ex willingly. If not, fine.
I hear him heave out a heavy sigh. When I risk a glance up at him nervously, I notice Christian looks rather frustrated, the corners of his mouth pulled down into a frown, his grey eyes squinted as he scrolls with his thumb, reading the text from his ex wife. He doesn't appear overly happy that she has made the attempt to reach out to him. It's a good sign, right?
I can't resist asking about it, even if it seems like I'm prying or not. Besides, I have a right to know, don't I, considering everything we've done and what has started between us lately? "Are you both in contact with each other a lot?" I ask, a little reluctantly though. I'm not sure how he'll take it.
He brings up an arm, running his fingers slowly through his hair as he finally meets my gaze. If I'm not mistaken, I think I see a little bit of wariness in his eyes, in his expression. Is he afraid himself of how I'll react? "Not really all that much. Probably about once every three months or so, maybe even more," he explains, his voice low. "Katherine usually lets me know if there's something her mother needs. And, as you know yourself, the last time we had contact face-to-face was when we both attended the graduation ceremony for you girls. She reaches out and texts me now and then, depending on if there is something she feels I need to know regarding Katherine." Hmm, so could that only be why she is contacting him now? She wants him to call her about Kate?
I thought I would feel better hearing that. That I would even feel reassured somehow. Weirdly, I don't at all.
"And do you think that's why she's asking you to call her?" I murmur, though it takes all I have to keep my voice normal. "Because of something to do with Kate?"
"I don't know, Ana. I won't be sure until I call her and find out what she wants." He doesn't sound happy or too bothered that she's made contact either way. He shrugs once, shutting his phone off. He tucks it securely in the back pocket of his trousers. "I'll call her later and find out then."
"You can call her back now, if you want?" I hear it the second I say it, and I feel my cheeks redden in embarrassment. My voice cracks, and at last it seems to fail me in a super obvious way, showing my insecurities, my fear over him hearing from the ex wife. I clear my throat, dropping my gaze to my shoes, before finishing, "Don't let me stop you. I've almost got all my things ready to leave."
Moving past him while avoiding his eyes as much as I'm able to, I focus on grabbing my bag while letting the long strands of my hair fall over the sides of my face protectively like a curtain. It's better this way. I can't risk him seeing my face in case he notices something is easily off about me. I lift up my bag, flinging the strap around my shoulder, my stomach in knots with nausea still.
"Ana, what's going on in your mind?" My body stiffens and freezes at the sound of his voice. "I can sense that something's going on with you?" His voice is quiet, concerned.
God, am I that obvious? Can he truly read me that well even without so much as having to look at me? Am I that transparent to him? Apparently so.
His tone is my undoing, making my eyes blur. "I hate that you seem to be able to read me so easily," I mutter weakly, a short miserable laugh escaping along with it.
He must have moved closer to me, because before I know it, he's reaching down, grabbing onto my hand in both of his. He guides my hand up towards his face, gently turns my hand over by the wrist, and bends down, planting a tender kiss into the center of my palm while his other hand and fingers gently smooth out my fingers and strokes them. Then he lays another kiss against my palm, and my heart seizes up painfully. It's a feeling I've never felt before, one rather impossible to describe. His actions seem to add weight to my despair and all of the millions of emotions dashing through me, yet the sensation of his finger tips brushing against mine, combined with his chapped, warm lips on my skin, it makes me feel confusingly mushy as well.
"If regrets are starting to surface for you over what we are doing," he murmurs softly into my hand, breathing over my skin, "I would prefer that you talk to me about it openly instead of holding it against me, honey."
Honey. Gah. That, and his seemingly automatic conclusion that I must be regretting this...
"It isn't that at all, Christian. It has nothing to do with regrets or anything like that at all," I mutter, a lump in my throat. How can he still think that after everything we have said to each other? Haven't I made it clear enough?
"Then what? What is it?"
Words fail me. I mean, how am I even meant to begin to explain it? My worries that now that the ex has made contact, that it means she's wanting him back? That I'm worried that he still loves her and that what they had and whatever we have, it could never compare to that?
"Are you upset then?" he breathes, somewhat confidently with his guess. Again, I hate that he seems able to read me so clearly. How is it that he is able to do that? "Has the fact that she's messaged me made you upset in any way? Is that the reason for this?"
I can't even seem to find my voice. All I am able to manage is a small nod while refusing to glance in his direction, my eyes building with blurriness and moisture.
I hear him sigh again; A sad, desperate sort of sigh. He's still holding onto my hand, he hasn't given it back to me yet."I won't lie to you, Ana, but... we'll always be a part of each others lives, me and her." His voice is gentle, each word carefully measured and emphasized. Like he desperately needs me to understand. "Elena and I, it's... complicated. We'll always be a part of each other's lives because of what we have together, which is Katherine. Nothing can erase that."
But does that mean that, if she ever were to ask for him back, would he go running immediately to her side without a second's thought? Forget what ever happened between us, because... it means nothing compared to what he had with her?
"So Friday?" I murmur, forcing us to talk about something different. I don't want to burden him due to what is probably my own childish fears and insecurities. What if it only serves to push him away easier because he doesn't want to deal with my immaturity? "I'll meet you here, in the foyer, on Friday, at 5.30 then?"
...
"So you had a good weekend?" Kate asks me the instance I get inside.
She's on my tail, following me to my room for details; I find walking in front of her, with my back to her helps with easily maintaining the lie.
"Yeah, I did. It was good. Things are definitely seeming a lot better with my Mom now that I'm at college and I'm not living with her."
"That's cool then. Cool that you two are finally getting a long a bit better, I mean."
"Yeah. How was your weekend?" I drop my duffel bag on my bed, unzipping it.
"Pretty boring and lonely without you. All I did was catch up on a few things that are due tomorrow."
"Which actually reminds me..." I mutter, pulling out my hairbrush and toothbrush. "...I have something for English due tomorrow that I need to do a few finishing touch-ups on." As I go to pull out all of my clothes carelessly, I pause, a sensation like ice sliding down my stomach hitting me as I spot it crumpled in the bottom of the bag. Christian's blue business shirt I stole. Shit. Luckily, I stop myself in time, leaving it in there. While I know the shirt could very well belong to anyone, the fact that it's Kate's fathers, I don't want to take any reckless chances in case she recognizes it. "Anything else happen while I was away?"
"Actually, I forgot to mention it to you but one of the guys in my class and I exchanged numbers," Kate admits, a little breathlessly though sounding proud of herself. "We've been texting all weekend. I think he's keen on doing something."
"Really? Wow?" In all the times I've known her while growing up, Kate has had a few crushes and casual boyfriends here and there, nothing too serious. But it doesn't surprise me she's met a guy at school; She's gorgeous, after all. "Do I know who this guy is?"
She bites down on her lip, thinking that over contemplatively. "Hmm, I don't think so. But he's really hot. Names Craig Richardson."
"OK, well, if his name is Craig Richardson then he definitely doesn't ring any bells." I definitely don't know of any Craig Richardson's in any of my classes so I mustn't know him. "I definitely don't know who he is then."
"He's about six foot, blonde." As Kate eagerly describes him according to his physical features, I notice how lusty-eyed she gets. Usually Kate doesn't get this way about anyone easily. He must mean a big deal to her then. "He asked if I wanted to get a bite to eat tomorrow. He also may have mentioned about heading back to where he lives with his buddies in their dorm."
"Do you think you will go back to his with him?"
"Maybe. I mean, I kind of want to. I wouldn't mind, you know." Suddenly she seems all coy and breathless. Definitely uncharacteristic of Kate. "Do you ever feel the same way? I mean, now that we're in college, now that we're eighteen, do you ever feel like you just want to get it over with?"
Her meaning hits me instantly. "You mean have sex?"
"Yeah, have sex," she rolls her eyes at me. "Lose our virginity. I kind of do feel like it's time. Plus, I can tell Craig is keen for it. I heard from one of the girls that he's already done it with this other girl he shares Bio class with. Do you think you'll do it this year? Maybe even with Jose?"
Holy crap. I try to seem unaffected by what she's telling me as I start sorting out all my things, organizing them back in my drawer. "Um, I don't know, Kate, but probably not." Kate doesn't know it, of course she doesn't, but... my virgin status is no longer. What's more, I've had sex probably over roughly five times now (not that I am counting every single time it happens).
What makes this conversation with her all the more unsettling, isn't the fact that it's unexpected and not something I expected to discuss with Kate as yet. Of course, we have been best friends for a very long time and usually there aren't a lot of conversations we don't have, especially about things personal and particularly thought-provoking. But it's mainly due to the fact that I have in fact already done what she's speaking of and, what's more, it's with someone particularly close to her. It's a difficult and dangerous topic to wade my way through.
"But do you like Jose? Because you have to know he likes you, right?"
"Yeah, as a friend and a fellow student," I murmur uneasily. "Jose and I help each other out with assignments we have difficulties with, that's it, Kate. And besides, he isn't really my type."
"Uh-huh. So Ana Steele suddenly has a type she's into, does she?"
Oh, god. "Um, I guess so," I murmur weakly.
"So what's your type then?"
Older. Handsome. Your father. "OK, well, I guess I don't really have a specific type of person, Kate," I say, stumbling around for an answer. She's really put me on the spot and in an awkward situation. "But I guess someone sort of... clean looking?" Clean looking? What? What a random way to put my foot into it.
"Huh. And so Jose isn't 'clean looking' enough for you?" she laughs, calling my bluff.
I shrug my shoulders, feeling my cheeks redden traitorously.
"Well, I definitely think he's into you-"
"-I don't think so, I'm not into him in anyway whatsoever." There's just your father. It's always been your father, right from the very first moment I laid eyes on him. "Kate, can we drop this, please?"
She stares me down for a very long, very uncomfortable moment. But then, to my relief, she finally surrenders, laughing again. "Fine, Ana. Whatever you say." She leaves it at that. Thank god.
...
Later that night, in the comfort of my bed, in privacy in the room by myself all in the dark, I lay on my side, my head half on the pillow, half tucked under the soft cloth of Christian's light blue business shirt that I stole in the morning. I rub my cheek against it, sighing longingly, inhaling it in in compulsive gasps.
It smells like him, still even after all these hours. A musty, pleasantly masculine smell. I'm not a smoker, of course I'm not, but... I imagine this is what it must be like. The scent lingering from it of his skin, of all that's purely him, it's my nicotine, something addictive, something I cannot get enough of, with each deep inhale in through my nose. It's probably sad and pathetic, what I'm doing.
But it eases it. It eases the tiniest little ache that has formed inside my chest. One filled with sheer missing. It's only been a couple of hours and yet I miss him already.
Not even just the smell of him. But his voice.
The way he looks when he wakes of a morning, hair unkempt and slightly messy, bright grey eyes dozy and half-asleep. The softness of his elbows compared to the rest of his arms, the slight prickliness of the finest of hairs on his forearms.
How the muscles beneath his biceps stretch and elongate beneath my hands grips on them as he holds me down on the bed. How even just cupping my face with his hands, they are so large and his fingers are so sinewy and long that its like he swallows me whole with them, yet his touch is all gentleness, all tenderness, like I'm something delicate, something made of porcelain and special.
How stretched and contently full I feel when he's inside of me, intimately. His little grunts and groans, the low sexy sounds of them coming from deep in his throat.
Inhaling in his shirt, remembering him, our last moments from today enter my mind...
"You ready to head out?" he asks me as he gathers his bag, flinging the strap over his shoulder. "Are you sure you've got everything you brought with you?"
I nod, joining him out of the room slowly. He closes the door to the hotel room up securely behind us and follows me as I lead the way to the elevator, reaching down to press the button that will send it up to our floor. A silence passes between us as we patiently wait. It only serves my mind to run wildly as I desperately try to do something to fill it.
I really don't want to have to leave, I don't want to have to say goodbye just yet, but I suppose we have no choice. At least it won't be long until we can hopefully be together again. Friday, here at the Heathman again, like he said.
I glance over my shoulder to look at him while we wait, finding him already looking back at me. He holds my gaze for a moment, and it feels like there's this weird shifting in the atmosphere between us, a strange crackling tension there. But then our moment is broken as the elevator dings gently, signalling it's arrival on our floor.
The doors slide open, and Christian gestures with his hand for me to go in first. I spin around, resting my back against the wall as I watch him enter himself. He presses the ground floor button to the foyer, then steps back a few paces so that he's resting against the wall near me as well.
That shift in atmosphere I begin to feel as we wait in silence again. His closeness, the way he's leaning inches close to me with his shoulder... I become aware of it more than anything else in the entire world. The silence we share in the elevator, it feels weighed down with the sadness of leaving each other, of having to say goodbye until we meet again. My heart feels heavy, a despairing lump in the back of my throat. I wonder if he feels it too.
I see his head turn in the corner of my eye, and I turn mine as well, meeting his gaze. His eyes shine back at me, something intense and meaningful in their depths. And then they lower, falling to my lips for a brief moment, before returning to my eyes again. is he trying to tell me something? Is he asking something secretly of me?
"I need to..." He finally speaks, breaking the silence between us, "Can I kiss you goodbye?"
"Yes, please," I whisper needfully, my own gaze dropping down to his mouth. His lips are slightly parted, his tongue between his teeth. "But you don't really need to ask when you already know the answer to that, don't you?"
A spine-tingling chuckle, his eyes glinting in response down at me.
Since we're alone all by ourselves in the elevator, neither of us needs to hesitate.
We move like magnets, me stepping forward, him stepping back towards me. We collide, and I'm swept back into the wall, his hands catching me around my face as he pushes me up against it. A hiss escapes through his teeth and parted mouth- sharp, violent- and then he's bending down while I'm leaning up on the balls of my feet, polar opposites. His mouth lands on mine and without wasting a second of it, we move together, our lips starting a hard, frenzied rhythm.
It's noticeably different than how it's been, his actions at this time compared to all the other times we've been together, certainly all this weekend in the privacy of the master suite; It's rougher, more forceful, illustrating the lack of time and the desperation we have to take full advantage of the opportunity before it all has to end and we go our separate ways.
Despite the heaviness of the duffel bag on my shoulder and the way it restricts the movement of my arm, I somehow manage, bringing up both arms, my hands finding his hair, stroking through the soft strands on top of his scalp, trailing down past each of his earlobes, the side of his face and his jaw. As I reach his neck, it happens.
With another ding, the elevator brutally interrupts us and alerts us to our arrival on the floor to exit the hotel.
I'm the first to break off the kiss, arching back against the wall, panting heavily. I meet his gaze as I do and Christian stares down at me, his eyes luminescent with something akin to how I feel- regret that it's had to end so suddenly, as well as irritation. He's panting just as hard, and he licks his lips as he reaches up to squeeze one of my hands one last time with his fingertips in what feels like a silent goodbye. For now.
"See you Friday, right here, 5.30" he manages, sounding winded and restrained. There's an edge to his voice that I haven't heard before also; It sounds dictatorial, like he's telling me between the lines that I better remember to come or else.
"Of course," I get out once I catch my breath.
He exits and I follow, though feeling unsteady, all sensation in my legs and toes seeming to have vanished. He stops to give me one last look, and I think I hear a low groan passing from him before he regains his own sense of equilibrium.
We take different paths; Me, straight to the doors out of the hotel, Christian to the reception desk to return the keys from the room. And that was that.
I inhale through my nose again deeply, filling my lungs with the comforting smell from his shirt. God, already I feel like I'm dying to be around him again. Hopefully Friday comes fast.
Hey all my lovely readers.
I am so sorry for taking long to update, I had to stop for a while to allow proper recovery so that my finger would heal, but it's working fine now.
Thank you all for your PM's of encouragement and your reviews, I promise I will not ever abandon this story. Now that I'm a lot better and life has settled down with it's craziness I'll be updating regularly again.
Hope you enjoyed this one. I know I promised a jealous Christian but he'll be coming next chapter, sorry. :) IF YOU HAVE ANY SUGGESTIONS ON WHAT YOU WOULD LIKE TO HAPPEN FEEL FREE TO LET ME KNOW