Chapter X
X
Lucy
Once we’re both naked on his bed, I slide down his body to go down on him—it’s never been my favorite activity, but the idea of being as generous with him as he’s always been with me is a turn-on.
“Wait,” he says, surprising me as I smooth my hands up his legs. Is it already obvious that I feel a little awkward?
But he just turns me onto my side, then tucks a few pillows gently under my head and shoulders so I’m propped up off the bed.
He runs a hand up and down my body as he gets up on his knees near my face, positioning himself perfectly in front of my mouth.
“This way I can see you better. And I can touch you too.”
A thrill runs through my body. This is already so much better than what I had in mind.
I take him in with my eyes and hand first as his palm glides over my hip.
I lick him, then I look up, and he’s grinning down at me.
His fingertips slide between my legs and find my clit, and I have to lie back, already overcome.
This no longer feels like something I’m doing just for him.
I feel eager, ravenous for him, and I take him into my mouth. His groans only amplify my full-body stimulation, and I let out my own moan when his fingers sink into me at the same moment that I pull him deeper into my throat. Within minutes, I climax with him inside my mouth.
I writhe in my ebbing waves of pleasure as he slides out from my lips and away from me.
With my eyes squeezed shut, I’m barely conscious of him hurrying to get a condom on.
I feel him climb on top of me, our bodies now aligned, and I claw at his chest, not yet sated.
I open my eyes, still recovering as he looks down at me, waiting for my signal.
I manage a little nod, then I feel all of him pound deep inside of me.
I let out a gasp of ecstasy not suitable for a shared apartment, and he places a gentle hand over my mouth.
I bite into the flesh of his palm, and we lock eyes as he rocks into me with all his weight.
Then I squeeze my eyes shut again as he thrusts over and over, until he comes with a grunt.
He collapses onto me, his heart pounding wildly. I feel like I might faint. I see only him, and my mind is completely, perfectly blank.
James
“The leftovers,” Lucy whispers as I play with her hair.
I don’t want to get up, but she pushes me off the bed, and we sneak back into the kitchen in our underwear.
I hold out a Tupperware, and she carefully packs up half the food.
“I’m stealing this. Don’t tell James,” she explains to the container in a stage whisper.
When we make it back to my bed, we both sprawl on our stomachs, our noses turned toward each other, so close they almost touch. “What are you thinking about?” she asks. I feel caught, and she must see it. “The restaurant?” she guesses.
I nod. “You’re still thinking about the leftovers.”
She laughs. “True.” After a long, quiet moment, her gaze shifts, as if she’s trying to see inside my brain. “So a loan is still step one, I’m guessing?”
I love that she’s so set on helping me figure this out, but I’m not fully sold on this idea.
Making the whole bottom floor of my grandma’s house essentially a public space.
Remodeling. And what if the restaurant failed?
I’ve always been someone who holds on to old things. This goes against all my instincts.
But I also meant what I said—my grandma would be pissed at me if I didn’t at least explore this option. She would have loved Lucy’s gumption.
“There are like four or five equally important step ones,” I say. “Zoning, permits, licensing—but yeah, a loan is up there. If the house can become the restaurant, it would definitely be a much smaller ask. I could reapproach the same banks.”
“Could you ask your parents for a loan?”
I give her a tight smile. “I mean, I think they could afford it. But they’re kind of weird about money. I wouldn’t want to ask.”
“What do they do?” Her voice goes up like she’s embarrassed not to know this already.
“They’re elementary school teachers. Been at the same school together since they met.”
“That’s pretty romantic.”
I let my shoulder roll backward, creating a little space between us.
“It might have started that way, but they’ve had their share of tough years.
When I was ten, my dad left for a week. But he came back.
They always find their way back.” I slide a finger under the strap of Lucy’s bra, avoiding her gaze.
“I love them, and I think they’re happy.
They like simple things, which I’ve always kind of admired about them.
He gardens. She crafts.” I hesitate. “I guess I’ve just always wondered what their lives could have been if they had let each other go.
” My mind jumps to Lucy’s mom and her completely opposite sort of existence.
“Teaching isn’t as exciting as being a makeup artist.”
“An internationally sought-after makeup artist.” She raises a brow.
I put on a faux-serious look and a deep voice to match. “Of course. The very best.”
“That’s right.”
“I’d love to see pictures of her work sometime,” I say, and she responds with a soft smile.
“Have you thought about what you’ll do? If you can’t open your own place right away?” she asks.
I search her face. She’s asking about my future. About my parents. Maybe her guard is just down temporarily, but it’s intoxicating.
“I’ve thought about it, yeah.” I shift my body forward so that our noses actually touch. “I think I’ll still move back, try to find a job somewhere, though it might not be in a restaurant.”
“No. You belong in a restaurant.”
“It would be temporary.”
She shakes her head, her nose rubbing against mine. “Unacceptable. You must make delicious, life-altering food. Always.”
Thank god she likes my cooking. “Well, in that case . . . I don’t know. It might make the most sense to turn the house into a rental for a few years, build up some savings. I could stay in New York and keep refining my skills before heading back.”
“Stay here?” She seems startled.
“Yeah. Maybe. Why?”
Her cheeks flush, and she breaks eye contact with me.
“Sorry. I just—” It takes her a moment to find her words, which is very unlike her.
“When my clerkship is done, I’ll probably come back here.
To New York. I’d be traveling a lot for work, hopefully, but this will probably be my home base.
” She shifts like she’s suddenly uncomfortable.
“I haven’t decided for sure,” she hurries to add.
I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. Multiple times. “Oh.”
She’s coming back here? The clerkship is only ten months. That’s nothing. If I were to stay, we could—
“I might go to Chicago,” Lucy interjects, as if she can hear my thoughts. “I’m not sure.”
Right. Get a grip, James. You’re fantasizing about a possible future with a woman who has no intentions of staying in one place, and none of the places she wants to be are in Oregon.
Even if she did come back to New York, sticking around here would mean delaying my own dream.
And to what end? There’s no future where the lives we want intersect, not for more than a season.
I put on an easy smile. “This house idea could work. You might have cracked it.”
She curls close to me and closes her eyes.
I think I love her is the last thought I have before I fall asleep.