Delilah
The radiator ticks twice, and I open my eyes to the same ceiling I have been waking up to for four years.
What’s interesting this morning is that there’s a soreness between my legs that may affect my ability to walk, and an arm across my waist.
Jasper is asleep on his front with his face turned toward me, one hand spread flat over my stomach like he put it there deliberately.
It’s still dark, a blue-gray light beginning to push through the gap in the curtain, which means it is early.
The whole room smells like him now. Cold air, clean soap, and something warmer underneath that I only ever caught for the first time last night when I pulled off his shirt.
And sex. My whole apartment probably smells like this now. A combination of sweat and cum and each other.
I lie very still and wait for panic to engulf me.
Only it doesn’t.
I go through the full list of things a sensible woman ought to be horrified about at this time in the morning, starting with the fact that I have slept with the cousin of my best friend's husband, and finishing at the fact that I am due at work in under an hour.
Nothing happens. My heart carries on doing its ordinary thing.
Down on the street, a car door closes, a gull squawks, and the man who has been the quiet center of the better part of my entire year sleeps beside me with an eerie silence.
Last night comes back in pieces, not in order. The counter, and the way he lifted me onto it like I weighed nothing. The floor. My bedroom. The way he worshipped every part of me like I was the only woman in the world for him.
He is on the side of the bed nearest the door, and something soft turns over in my chest.
"You're staring," he says, without opening his eyes.
"Well, I’ve never had someone else in my bed."
His eyes open at that. Gray like Eduards but somehow completely different. This close I can see specks of blue in them.
I have the sudden, urgent thought that I have not brushed my teeth and no plan whatsoever for what to do about it. "Morning."
"Morning."
He shifts onto his side, and his hand slides from my hip to the small of my back and gathers me in, and any anxiety about teeth becomes a distant memory. He kisses me like we have all day, and when I make a small noise against his mouth, he makes a lower one that I feel through my entire body.
"You have to be at work," he says, against my jaw.
"In fifty minutes," I agree.
"That's plenty of time. How do you feel?"
"Sore," I respond. "Spent," I add. "I still can’t entirely feel my legs."
"What else?" he asks. "Up here." He kisses my forehead.
"I’m trying not to think or feel anything beyond the physical. Wouldn’t want to scare you off." I roll my eyes. I’ve had minimal experience with men but it’s enough to know they don’t want commitment.
He frowns.
"Maybe I didn’t make myself clear." He rears up onto his knees, and pulls me into the center of the bed. "Last night, I filled you with my cum—"
"More than once," I offer, cutting him off.
"—more than once." He lifts my legs back and looks right at my swollen core. "I also told you that you are mine now. I understand you possibly didn’t hear that, so I’m telling you now." He swipes a finger, then two between my pussy lips and I shiver.
"So I’ll tell you again," he adds, lowering himself into position between my thighs and looking up my body at me. "You’re mine. Every bit of you." His tongue licks through the space where his fingers just were. "It’s not just sex, Delilah. It’s everything."
Ten minutes later I’m in the shower wondering what the hell I’m going to do.
Obviously I’m going to go to work, feed the cats, bake a cake, prep the pastry case and the coffee machine.
But how the hell am I going to tell Sammie I spent the night with her husband’s cousin and he made me believe in the multi-verse because I’m pretty sure that’s where I went.
I brush my teeth, and watch Jasper in the mirror as he moves around my room straightening things and finding odd bits of his clothing.
Even when he is soft he is thick and long. When I look at him now, all tall and tattooed and huge, I wonder how I managed to survive what we did in the night.
I shake my head with a laugh and spit out the toothpaste.
He walks me to the café, helps me open up and feed the cats, even though he is still a little nervous around them, and then he tells me he is leaving to fetch his car from the park.
That’s when I remember the guy.
"You never told me what was going on in the park last night," I say, preparing myself a cup of coffee.
He hesitates for a moment, but must decide I can handle whatever he is going to tell me.
"He was following you. He had syringes in his bag loaded with what I’m guessing is some kind of date rape drug."
My hands stop mid tamp and I turn to him.
"No, that can’t be."
"Have you ever seen him before?" Jasper slides his phone across the counter and I lean closer to look at the blurry image of a man. "Do you recognize anything about him? Maybe he has been a customer…"
I shake my head, no. "Why were you even at the park?" I ask.
He takes a slow breath and puts his coffee down.
"Last November," he says slowly, "I was coming back from the city and I saw you cross the road by the bandstand.
It was dark, and there was nobody else in the park, so I pulled into the lot to make sure you got to the gate safely.
" He looks at me steadily. "Then I did it again the next night.
After that, it just became part of my day. "
"Every night?"
"Most nights. If I'm not stuck in the city."
"Since November?" I say it out loud to hear how it sounds. "Why did you never say anything?"
"Because at first, it was about your safety," he says simply. "Then it became one of the best parts of my day. Seeing you wind down helped me wind down." The muscle in his jaw moves once.
"You sat in the cold," I say. "For six months watching me run in the park."
"Bill was right yesterday, so many women assume they're safe because they’re doing the same thing they’ve always done and it’s never been an issue before.
It’s like a type of survivor bias. But last night…
" he trails off. "Besides, it's good security," he adds.
"The café belongs to Eduard's wife. Anyone wanting leverage would start there. "
He looks at me for a long moment, and something in his shoulders comes down about an inch.
I round the counter and take his face in both hands, which requires me to go up on my tiptoes and him to come down to meet me.
"That is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me," I tell him.
He winces. "It’s not sweet, it’s security."
"You keep telling yourself that," I say, grinning. "For months I've been standing behind that counter thinking you barely noticed I existed, and it turns out you've been sitting in a parking lot making sure I’m safe on my runs." I’m laughing now. "You could have just asked me out."
"I could have," he agrees. He kisses my forehead, then my mouth, unhurried, one hand at the back of my neck. "I was working up to it."