Chapter 22 #2
He groaned again, leaning over her as he deepened the kiss so much that she gasped. Was it a gasp? She couldn’t even identify the sounds she was making, hungry and deep and so desperate she should have been embarrassed. She wasn’t, though. She could never be embarrassed with him.
She wrapped her legs around his hips, feeling how hard he was between her thighs, his calloused fingers running up her back.
“I missed you so much,” she whispered, pulling at his hair, trying to get closer, trying to get inside him, to get back to that place she loved most.
He leaned back enough to meet her eyes again, while his hand went lower, pushing off his boxers so there was nothing between them.
God, it was the echo of a memory, so like that first moment they were together.
But this time he entered her slowly, carefully, as if he were afraid she was made of glass.
“Are you all right?” he murmured, still against her.
She didn’t answer, only brought her mouth to his, swallowing his moans in her own as his tongue danced with hers.
He began to move his hips, the slow drag of him like torture.
She let her head fall back, letting sensation take over.
Her confusion and anger and worry were still there, but they were overshadowed by the building tension in her core.
It tightened every tendon in her body as he continued his unyielding pace.
“Tell me you missed me again,” he whispered into her hair. “Tell me you missed this.”
“I missed you,” she cried out, eyes squeezed shut as her head fell back. “I missed this. God, Freddie…”
His hand came up to push some hair from her face, a delicate motion. “I missed you so fucking much, Annie.”
A muted whimper was her only response, but it was enough.
His thrusts became hard, and his grip on her skin tightened.
Then he leaned forward, nipping and kissing the length of her neck, whispering unintelligible things into her skin.
But it didn’t matter what he was saying; she could only focus on the building tension in her muscles.
She moaned. She was close. So very close…
The orgasm was like a bomb detonating in her body, a surge starting at her core and exploding out to every limb. She cried out and Freddie leaned back, watching it bloom across her face.
She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the feeling. How had she gone so long without this? Without him? She felt right and whole and suddenly there was nothing to hold back. Her muscles seized and her body exploded again, like sensation and light were shooting through her veins.
“Fuck… Annie…” Then he groaned, the sound muffled by her hair as he leaned down, then thrust into her again and again as he came.
His breath was ragged on her skin, and she held him tightly until his body finally went limp.
She raked her hand through his short hair, letting it tickle her palm.
She could almost forget that eight years had passed since they had been here.
It would be so easy to get lost in the immediacy of his body, his smell.
He turned his head, watching her profile for a long minute as his breath steadied.
“What’s that look?”
She turned to look at him. “What look?”
“Like you’re already thinking about something,” he finally said.
She could tell him, list the concerns and worries and questions already beginning to bubble up in her brain. How this would work, what happened now… but she didn’t want to. She wanted to stay lost for a little bit longer.
“You’ve got some new moves,” she replied, suppressing a smile.
He laughed. She could barely hear it, but the vibration of it went through her body and made her shiver.
Then he leaned back and swept his fingers delicately across her cheek.
Even in the dim light she could see the new lines around his eyes.
The deeper creases in his brow. But still, he was familiar.
So familiar and real that for the first time in days she felt calm.
They lay in bed for hours. At some point he got up, the blanket wrapped around his waist as he went to the kitchen and grabbed food, which really only consisted of a bag of pita chips and hummus, then they curled up again, eating and talking and laughing until they finally fell asleep.
In the middle of the night they woke up and made love again.
Anne wasn’t even sure which of them initiated it, whose fingers began to venture over first, but suddenly it was all-consuming, their lips and tongues exploring every inch of each other’s bodies, like they were making up for lost time.
It was hungry and desperate, and perfect. It felt perfect.
Anne woke up the next morning to Freddie sitting up beside her in bed, staring at his phone.
“Good morning,” she murmured, smiling.
He looked down and smiled, too, easy and relaxed. “Morning.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost ten.”
Anne’s eyes widened. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept past eight o’clock.
Freddie watched her expression and chuckled. “I know, I can’t believe it, either.” Then he leaned down and kissed her forehead. “What do you say we throw on some clothes and grab some breakfast?”
She was about to agree, because honestly, pancakes had never sounded so good, but she paused as her mind snagged on something she was supposed to do, an obligation she had marked down for today…
And then she remembered: She was meeting Theo at Monkford Café in an hour. They were supposed to go over the final documents for his show and a role for her in his company.
“I can’t. I have a work meeting in a little bit.” Her head fell back as she groaned again. She really wanted those pancakes. “How about tomorrow?”
“I can’t,” he said with a heavy sigh. “I have a work meeting, too.”
“Look at us. We’re so busy and important,” she said with a smile.
He chuckled, leaning down and ghosting a kiss over her lips. “And chivalrous, which is why I’ll let you have the bathroom first while I make us coffee.”
Her brow furrowed. “Oh, I only have a percolator—”
“I went to school for environmental engineering, Annie. I can figure out a percolator.”
For a second, she didn’t move, trying to think of what to say. But then he gave her another look, and she could only turn, hiding a smile as she retreated to the bathroom.
She took her time washing her face, brushing her teeth, detangling her hair, all while listening to Freddie moving around in the kitchen.
Is this what it would have been like if she had gone with him to Argentina? A shared space they navigated together? The din of spoons and mugs and the occasional muffled curse? The sounds were so comforting and welcome that she couldn’t believe she’d ever lived without them.
And you’ll have to do it again as soon as he leaves, she reminded herself. They’d have to talk about their relationship, too, what last night meant, their expectations, where this was going and—
She caught her reflection in the mirror then, her blue eyes bright, her blond hair now pulled back.
Stop spiraling.
This moment was perfect, and if that’s all she would get with Freddie now, that would be enough. She had to appreciate that.
With the resolution on repeat in her head, she opened the bathroom door to find Freddie dressed and in the kitchen. The percolator was disassembled in front of him and there were coffee grounds spilled across the Formica countertop.
“Okay, turns out I don’t know how to work a percolator,” he said, frowning.
Anne laughed, reaching for the filter. “Matriculately challenged is right.”
She took over but he didn’t move, standing close as she filled the tank, twisted the top back on and put it over the small burner on her oven. A moment later, she poured the coffee into two mugs, then added milk to both and a spoonful of sugar to his.
“You remembered,” he said as she handed the coffee to him.
Oh God, she had. It wasn’t even conscious, just muscle memory.
“Well, how could I forget?” she said with a shrug. “Every time your mom saw you do it, she reminded you that your grandfather had diabetes.”
He chuckled to himself. “I like to live dangerously.”
She smiled, too, but hid it under the rim of her mug as she took a sip. Freddie watched the motion, his gaze locked on her lips before blinking away.
“So what’s your meeting tomorrow?” she asked, taking a sip of her coffee.
He shrugged one shoulder. “This green tech company wants me to come on board and run their sustainable farming division.”
Anne paused. It didn’t sound like something Freddie from eight years ago would ever have been interested in. But she wasn’t in the position to question. Not yet.
“What about you?” he asked. “I didn’t think Sophie was in the city today. What are you two working on?”
“Oh.” She blinked. “No. Actually, I’m having coffee with the showrunner on Divorce Divas. He started his own production company and I’ve been helping. I think he wants to talk to me about coming on board, maybe working on his new show.”
Freddie frowned. “Why?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why meet with him? I thought you hated TV?”
Anne’s mouth fell open, but it was another moment before anything came out. “I did. I mean, I do. But it’s where I have the most experience. And I need a job, so—”
“You have a job. Sophie asked you to be her partner.”
“Right, but I don’t know if that’s the smart choice right now. For me.”
His expression had lost all its humor. “Yesterday you said you wanted to do it.”
“I do. But I can’t base a huge life decision on how much I want it. There are other factors that need to be considered. For instance, my mom told me that fifty percent of floral shops close their first year and—”
Freddie let out a bitter laugh as he put his coffee mug back on the counter. “Your mom is still making decisions about your life?”
Anne’s eyebrows pinched together as an old forgotten anger poked at her chest. “My mom never made decisions about my life, Freddie.”
“Didn’t she?”