his hands coming down on the back of my chair, his arms caging me. “This thing between us is not about two kids, PTA meetings, and four dogs in our future.”
“Four dogs. That’s a lot. I do want a dog though.”
“Emily.”
“I don’t need PTA meetings. This thing, as you call it, is a one-night stand, Shane.”
“That’s not happening.”
“What’s not happening?”
“This is not a one-night stand. Neither of us will be done with each other that fast, and we both know it.”
“You can’t decide what we are on your own.”
“You’re running, but not from me.”
“Let me up.” I shove on his unmoving arm to try to break free. “Damn it, Shane.”
“Do you want this to be a one-night stand?”
“I’m not capable of more right now.”
“We’re keeping it simple. We’re going upstairs to my bedroom to fuck.”
“And tomorrow?”
“We’ll fuck some more.”
It’s just sex and he’s upset right now. Come tomorrow morning, he’ll be over this. “Fine,” I say. “Then why are we talking?”
His eyes glint and the next thing I know, he’s lifted me off the stool, scooped me up, and is crossing the living room to carry me up a long set of wooden steps. Heading, I assume, to his bedroom, a man on a mission, to fuck everything out of his system, and no matter what he just said, I’m pretty sure that includes me. There’s no reason to worry he’ll see too much, or want too much. He is just reacting to his family drama, and no one understands that more than me.
At the top of the stairs, we enter a room shrouded in shadows and he doesn’t turn on the lights. He sits me on a bed, and then he’s gone, leaving me to eye the one thing I can make out clearly in the room. A giant wall of more windows, the sky now black, as if clouds have wiped out all light. The way Shane and I both want to wipe away the darkness. You’re running, he’d said, and it hadn’t been an accusation, but rather a statement of fact.
The sound of a condom package tearing has me twisting around to find him standing at the edge of the nightstand, naked—like the way he makes me feel inside. He comes back to me then, joining me on the bed, and my shirt, his shirt, is gone in a flash, his hands replacing it. His tongue and mouth are everywhere. And when he finally turns my back to his front, and he is inside me again, his body wrapped around mine, our pleasure colliding, our bodies collapsing in release, he holds on to me and he doesn’t let go. And he doesn’t hurry away, nor do I try to move. We just lay there, in the darkness, together, and therefore we are not alone.
* * *
I blink awake from a now familiar nightmare, jerking to a sitting position, my hand at my throat in the midst of panic and terror. Forcing air into my lungs, I become aware that I am in a bedroom and in bed alone, but it’s not mine. It’s Shane’s bed, and the autumn scent of him is everywhere around me, even on my hair and skin. A chill runs down my spine, reminding me that my nightmare is a product of the reality I’m forced to hide from, when I just want to face it and make it go away. That, and I’m naked. I grab the blanket, tugging it to my chin, the sound of rain splattering on glass calling my attention to a wide expanse of windows hugged by curtains to my left. The room is cozy, my memories are not.
“Stupid nightmare,” I murmur, glancing at the clock on the nightstand, noting the time as six thirty, which must mean Shane is already up and getting ready for work. I’m shaken by the idea that I hadn’t noticed he’d left the bed when I can’t afford to be that oblivious to my surroundings, but then last night comes back to me, and good lord, I’d fallen asleep with him still inside me. And now I’m here and he’s not and it’s the awkward morning after. Unless … he’s not even here. That would certainly wipe out the awkward part and I both hate and love that idea. Whatever the case, Shane isn’t here, and that means I need out of this bed and into my clothes.
Scanning the room, I take in the details I couldn’t see last night: An oversized