Damn his beautiful earth-deep eyes. His soft lips pressed tense together. The slight shadow of beard she wanted to stroke.
“You’re so tempting.”
“Is that bad? I can’t dream I tempt you near as much as you tempt me. So don’t go condemning me for something you do a thousand times worse to me.”
Damn his smooth words. “I didn’t damn you.”
He sparkled at her. “Guess this is purgatory, then. You gonna be my salvation, Gill?”
“Hey.” She squeezed his arm. Damn his strong arms. “I’m the one who does word play. Why are you stepping on my territory?”
His beautiful eyes, brightening at her. Hell and damnation. “I don’t mean to presume. But I think you already know all about my presumption to your territory.”
“Right.” She separated her skin from his. Rolled discarded taco foils into a ball. “I do.”
He drained his beer. “You can keep me in purgatory if you have to, Gill. But just know that’s what you’re doing, okay?”
His words tumbled like rockfall against the flimsy shelter where she’d stashed her heart. She realized in a rush that everything she’d been thinking for days—for months—took Vic for granted. Everything in her list was her pros. Her cons. Her stomach full of delicious tacos.
But he was more than an offering on her altar, up to her to accept or reject. Yes, he’d put himself there, put the power of deciding in her. And she’d needed that. Needed to think about where she was, and what she wanted. To know that her decisions weren’t going to derail her plans.
None of that took him into consideration. Treated him like a whole soul that could ache for her response, be hurt by her delays. Recognized the risks he took by baring himself to her. For all she thought about her relationship with Anton, and Anton’s with Vic, she didn’t factor how Vic’s relationship to her mattered. She’d only placed safety nets for herself and her brother.
Vic, though. He’d given her his truth. Allowed her to back-burner it while she made her damn lists. Didn’t show except via one oblique statement that what happened next would change his life. Either way, his relationships shifted.
And the thing that felled her was how she stung for him. It was a hundred thorn jabs, made worse because she was the one who’d inflicted them. She hated that he hurt. That she hurt him. She wanted—needed—him to be able to be his joyous, unfettered self.
Gillian scooped all the little containers of salsa into a bunch. “How about we leave all this fire and brimstone down here and take ourselves up to heaven, eh?”
His heart boomed. Success. He almost let himself cheer. “I know you’re the pedantic one, but to be clear here: sex, yes?”
“Yes.”
“… But not just sex? You’re with me on this? In this?”
She wasn’t as quick and quippy this time, but still she said, “Yes.”
“Not to make you sign a contract or anything, but I wouldn’t mind getting more clarity on that yes of yours before we head upstairs.“
Gillian tossed one of her taco wrappers at him. “Thought you were raring to go.“
“Obviously. But also, once we go, I’m not gonna want to stop and talk about intent and so forth.”
“You have my consent, if that helps.”
“So I gathered from when you said just now that we could have sex. Though of course you can change your mind. At any point. Just shove my dick out of you and I’ll head off.”
“Sexy.”
“Yep. That’s what they say: consent is sexy. Far as I can tell, this is what that means.”
She sipped her beer, and took another taco. “Fine. What do you need to know?“
“Are we dating now?“ He had approximately ninety-six other questions, but that seemed the most important.
“Takeout and fucking is your definition of a date?“
“You don’t have to use belligerence as a shield, Gill. I know you well enough to get that I wouldn’t be here if your feelings weren’t somehow involved.“ He did his best to seem reasonable. Calm. “And I told you about my own feelings, so I know you’ve taken that into consideration, too.“
She looked away, a sudden move that startled him. She took another sip before meeting his gaze again. Everything about her expression was a war between open and closed. If he had his camera, he wouldn’t have been able to resist.
Instead, he waited.
“My feelings are involved, Vic.“ She was quiet as a distant chime, but it sounded like gongs in his chest.
He cleared his throat. “Thanks for the confirmation.“
“Don’t be a smart ass.”
“Can’t help it. My ass is real smart. You should check it out.”
“Planning on it.”
Fuck, but she made him lose track of himself. Not like he was so brilliant at locating his self to start with. He wanted to dive head-first into banter. Toy with her hair. Play footsie like a fool. And he would. He hoped. After they talked. “Okay, in your roundabout way you’re telling me we are a couple now?”
“Dating. Not a couple. Or, I don’t understand what you mean when you say couple. That sounds … committed, to me.”
Cannonball into a winter lake. Icy prickles casing him from his skin in to his core. “Do you want to date other people? Are you already dating other people? Cause I’m not, to be clear.”
“No. No, Vic. Don’t give me those eyes. I’ve deleted all my apps, okay? I wouldn’t have invited you over otherwise, not knowing what you wanted to try.”
“Okay. I mean, good. Thanks. Good. That’s what I hoped. And I hope you’ll tell me if that changes?” He sounded nine hundred times too young and cautious.
She nodded, and his breath got fuller.
“But, listen.”
Like he wasn’t memorizing each syllable and gesture. “I’m listening, Gill.”
She put her hand back on his wrist. “I’m up for exploring this. All this heat between us. In bed, obviously. But out, too. You’re already someone I like, that’s not news, but I’m not promising we’re starting any kind of long-term situation here. I can’t …. We can’t. We don’t know enough about what we’re like past the chemistry and the flirting and the basic comfort of having been in each others’ lives for so long. Maybe it’ll be all unicorns and dandelion fluff. But maybe we’ll burn hot for a couple of nights and find that’s all there is to it.”
Victor kept himself steady, because: it was what he’d expected, right? Between her caution and her pragmatism and her whole thing about relationships that he wasn’t sure if she’d ever considered had a bunch to do with the gender roles in her and Anton’s family …. This was about as far uphill as he was ever likely to get with her, at this point.
Only at his most imprudent had he fantasized about some grander declaration from her. He smiled. Like Gillian Linette Bellamy was one to swoon.
“I like the part about burning hot.”
“Vic.”
“I do, though. Also the part where you noticed we have chemistry. Not sure what dandelion fluff has to do with anything, but, Gill? Joking aside? I’m grateful you’re willing to give it a try. I know leaps of faith aren’t your style, believe me. I get all that. So. I’m glad. It’s what I hoped for. You’re what I hoped for. Thank you.”
And she shoved back her chair and ignored the stack of papers that fluttered to the ground and grabbed him by the hand.
They were kissing by the time they reached the landing, stripping as they sped up the stairs. Frantic heartbeats and flying garments and there—there was her bed. The one place he wanted to be. And the one person he wanted to share it with, tumbling at him. Head spinning, feet fumbling, heart thumping as they fell together into her room, onto her bed, kissing through to his every nerve ending.
No one kissed like Gillian Bellamy. Back in college, that one stunning night, they kissed and he knew it was special, never mind trying to tell himself it was his relative inexperience. Her relative experience. But it wasn’t all skill—though good hellfire, was she skillful. There was a frisson with her, a snap and snarl and sweetness that went straight to his blood. Not just his heart, not just his cock, not just his heated neck or wobbly knees. Every platelet and scrap of hemoglobin glowed with joy from kissing her.
And it wasn’t nostalgia for that college night. It wasn’t the remnants of a childhood crush. It was her. And him. It was them, and the way she parried when he thrust, the way he nipped when she moaned.
She gleamed like precious metal as they stripped off the rest of each other’s clothes. She glinted and grinned while extracting condoms from her bedside. She glowered when he stopped them. Stood, impatient, when he said, “Wait.”
She couldn’t doubt he meant it as a pause, not a halt. Not with his erection straining towards her while he was still wearing his damn socks, so much in a hurry were they to be together.
He bent to peel them off, which just showed her generous spirit when she didn’t laugh at his awkwardness. He balled them and tossed them out towards the hall, taking a centering breath and forcing himself to not stare at—or touch—the perfect globes of her breasts. Or the curve of her belly. Or the arch of her neck.
“Needed to look at you. At your eyes.”
He wasn’t explaining himself so well, but maybe … maybe how she’d also known him for two-thirds of his life made the difference. She nodded and switched on the bedside lamp. Weird how he hadn’t even noticed they’d been operating in near darkness until then.
He cleared his throat and let himself step close enough to feel the sizzle coming off her skin. “I mean it, you know?”
Somehow his being inarticulate didn’t stop her from agreeing. “I know. Me, too.”
“Even though ...?”
“Even though.” She glanced past him towards Anton’s house, which was, this time, a relief.
“He knows, too.”
The look she gave him.
His heart skittered but he told himself to stay centered. “How I feel. He’s known, of course, but lately. We’ve talked. He ….” How to say the right words? Vic took in the strands of her hair he’d disrupted, the disarray of their far-flung clothes. “He picked out my shirt for Evan’s bachelor party.”
Gill let out a slow, sweet breath. Reached to trace along his shoulder and bicep. “I liked that shirt.”
His voice was tighter than before. The syllables crunched out. “Hoped you would.”
She licked her lips and he surged forward. Led by his cock, impatient to encounter any scrap of her skin. But also led by his heart, because: two-thirds of their lives. He knew her expressions. He caught the words in her eyes, telling him she wasn’t twisted with worry about Anton right then. She trusted his thick-tongued attempts to explain how they had her brother’s blessing, and also they didn’t need any such blessing because this was just between them. And how he knew she craved it anyway, because one of the many things they’d watched each other do for two-thirds of their lives was to shield Anton from any number of the worlds’ hurts.
And then.
Then they were on the bed, and his heart was racing and her breathing was fast, and she said his name. Just that. “Vic.” Not even his full name, but it was the one thing he needed. The one syllable that showed she needed him in the same intense, shattering way he needed her.
He rolled under her, and he soared.