“I am really bad at replying to texts.”
“I know.”
“And I don’t love surprise parties.”
“I know.”
“But the rest . . .” She smiled against his thumb. “Yes, please.”
He leaned into her ear. “I’m going to do the filthiest things to you.”
Her breath hitched. “You do have a ridiculous sex drive.”
“So do you.”
“So do I.”
He pulled back, and it was her turn to press a soft kiss against his thumb, even if her eyes were serious as she warned, “I’ll never be easy to be around, Eli.”
He knew that. He loved that. He wanted nothing more than to learn every inch of her, his complicated, mercurial dream girl.
He leaned in for a kiss. But before, he said, “I can imagine worse fates.”
EPILOGUE
RUE
ONE YEAR LATER
My voice was muffled by the pillow, dampened by my own gritted teeth, but I hated how reedy and desperate it still sounded when I said, “I hate this.”
“Really?” Eli remained motionless inside me, but the heel of his palm traced every knob of my spine, soothing my tremors. It made no difference, because his other hand was busy pinning my wrists to the mattress. “Because I am into it.”
Of course he was.
He had come.
Twice.
Inside me, wherever struck his fancy.
I, however, had not. It had been hours, and I was a trembling, unsatisfied mess. He got like that, sometimes—pushy and overbearing and everywhere, and I just couldn’t . . .
I groaned into the pillow.
“You’re really not enjoying yourself?” he whispered, this time against my ear.
“I’m not,” I lied.
“My poor girl.” He clucked his tongue, and I was going to kill him. As soon as he let go of me. And let me come. “Why is that?”
Because.
“Is it too much, Rue?” He nuzzled the curve of my throat, and the movement made him surge deeper inside me. I was swollen and used, and it felt so good, I might cry. In fact, I was already tearing up. “Is it broccoli, baby?”
“No! No. It’s just . . .”
“Just?”
I circled my ass against his groin, and his muted, amused grunt ended with him gripping my hip bone and holding me still. Asshole.
“Why are you grinding against me, sweetheart?” He kissed the ball of my shoulder. “We both know that you can’t come in this position, anyway.”
“Then why don’t you just let me move?”
“Because I can come in this position. And I’m trying to save myself for you.”
I whimpered—half plea, all frustration. “Please. I need you to—”
“I know exactly what you need.” His mouth on my earlobe was, briefly, all teeth. “You don’t have to tell me.” He tsked. “Come on,
Rue. I’m offended.”
“Then why don’t you—”
“Because I’m having fun. Want me to stop? Just say the words.”
I could have. I could have told him to put an end to this. I’d done it before, when it had become too much, when I’d felt like I was going to squirm out of my own skin, and he’d stopped without asking questions. I let myself contemplate the possibility: Eli turning me around, making me come with his mouth, rocking me in his arms for long minutes, until I pushed him away or fell asleep, whatever came first.
But as much as I hated this, I loved it too much to give it up. And why would I ask him to stop when I had other ways of getting what I wanted? A bit dirty. Manipulative, maybe. But resourceful. I knew exactly what the words would do to him, and mumbled them into the pillow to my own advantage.
Eli stilled.
Leaned his forehead between my shoulder blades.
Asked, “What did you just say?”
This time I lifted my head. Enunciated clearly. “I love you.”
It changed everything. I felt him shudder inside me. Tighten his grip around my hip bone. Take a deep, broken breath. Excitement bubbled within him—twelve months in, and the words hadn’t worn down yet.
“Okay, you know what?”
I shook my head against the pillow, shivering.
“I think I’m done playing. I want to look at you. Let’s just . . .” He let go of my wrists. Turned me around. It was a little dizzying, how quickly everything changed.
His eyes were locked with mine.
His kisses were deep.
His arms closed around my waist to scoop me up.
He was inside me again in a matter of seconds, relentlessly deep, but it felt completely different from before. This time, neither of us had anywhere to hide. This way, this way I really could—
“Hi,” he told me with a smile that I couldn’t physically return.
Instead, I solemnly replied, “Hi,” and then he was moving inside me and whispering sweet things in my ear, about how perfect I was, how much he liked me, the sheer improbability of my beauty, and that he knew, he fucking knew what I’d done, but he was always going to let me get away with it, because he loved to hear it so much. And then his fingers found my clit, and it was all over. I was coming this time, and he was holding still and then groaning and falling apart with me. Again.
“What are you thinking?” he asked afterward, the sweat cooling on our skin, his heart a steady beat under my ear.
I felt my lips twist in a shadow of a smile. “That this was a really nice way to start our vacation.”
My life might have changed, but I hadn’t. Which wasn’t a problem, because Eli seemed to be okay with the way I was—and that was that.
Whenever I’d imagined myself in a relationship, I’d envisioned an exhausting series of social niceties, facades to meticulously keep up, chitchat that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to produce even under duress. Eli, unsurprisingly, required very little of that. He allowed my silences, and had long conversations with me when I wanted to. He gave me space, but pulled me into his life if I gravitated away. He made fun of me, especially when I made fun of him.
Being with him had meant other things, too, like an unconditional acceptance in his group of friends, a growing relationship with his sister, a dog. But I had thought people overwhelming before falling in love with one, and still found it hard to navigate many interpersonal situations. As Tisha had put it, You don’t have to enjoy all the social shit just because you enjoy being with Eli. He’s so into you, I doubt he cares. After that, it had all fallen into place.
(I had to admit, however, that Tiny had grown on me.)
(I was ready to die for that beast, and I was not prone to exaggeration.)