I need him.
I need him any way I can get him.
“Okay, Zo?” he asks, and I remember I’m supposed to nod.
I nod, agreeing.
And then he slams in deep so I can feel the pull in my hips, slams in so deep, he brushed a new bundle of nerves inside of me that’s never been hit before.
I moan.
I moan loud, no worries about being on the side of the road, being in broad daylight, being cramped in the tiny back seat of my Jeep.
“Fingers. Clit. Now,” Zee says through gritted teeth, eyes on where he’s pulling out again.
I do as he asks.
My clit is already so sensitive, as soon as I put my fingers there, I’m close, like it’s just been one never-ending orgasm I can’t control.
He pulls back and slams in, and my head tips back, a moan caught in my chest, but my fingers keep moving.
Two, three, four slams, and I’m on the brink.
Already.
But really, orgasms always seem to be right there when it comes to Zander.
“Get there, Zoe,” he says.
I’m right there.
I’m right fucking there.
And then I look down.
Look at where my hand is, where he’s disappearing in me.
And then I fall.
I scream his name, sound stopping in my ears altogether, but I don’t miss the low groan of my name Zander lets out, nor do I miss the way he throbs inside me as he comes.
And I don’t miss how yet another small, irrevocable part of me leaves me as he cleans me up and helps me put my sweats back on, kissing my lower belly as he does.
I’m wondering just how many pieces I’ll have left for myself when this trip is over.
THIRTY-ONE
WILLOW
-ZOE-
Eventually, we head back on the road, stopping for the promised coffee, and I can’t stop smiling.
It’s like a night under the stars with Zander was everything and more, taking away all of the worries of reality and giving me what I need to live in a fairy tale.
Or maybe it was the three orgasms.
It most definitely could be the three orgasms.
“Okay, so we’re headed for Florida today, but tomorrow, I’m not sure what the plan is. We can go to the beach, or we can go to Disney.”
“Disney?” I say, my voice squeaking a bit.
“That’s what you wanted as a kid, so I put it on the roster. I just wasn’t sure if you still wanted to go.”
I went to Disney exactly one time when I was eight years old. My parents scraped and saved for what I imagine was years to make it happen and it was, in fact, the most magical week of my life.
But Zander . . .
There’s no way in hell Zee actually wants to go to Disney.
The man is football and beer and working on his car.
He is not happiest place on Earth, and Mickey ears, and princess waves.
“No,” he says, the Jeep bumping along another backroad, interrupting my train of thought. “No. I told you, we’re done with that. You play that game with everyone else, but not me. Never with me, Zo.”
I don’t answer.
I don’t argue, either.
Partially because I know there’s no use.
And partly because it’s been nice not basing my opinions on other people’s likes or dislikes.
So instead of arguing, I nod.
“Okay,” I say, fighting back the people pleaser who wants to say, Whatever you want! “Disney, if I get the choice.”
“That’s my girl,” Zee says, and the shiver that runs through me with his words is visible.
He smiles the smile of a man who knows a woman’s body and the effect his words have on said body.
I shake my head and roll my eyes.
“You’d really spend a day at a theme park targeted for little kids just because you told me you’d take me when I was twelve?”
He sighs and smiles like he can’t believe I still don’t get it before he answers.
“I’d go anywhere with you, Zo. Disney it is.”
THIRTY-TWO
EVERYTHING HAS CHANGED
-ZANDER-
We make it to Florida and stop for the night at a chain hotel right outside Orlando, fucking as soon as we walk in the door then ordering take out and fucking while we wait for it.
After we eat, we fuck again because, apparently, I’m making up for lost time.
I remember once, when I was in my late twenties, I thought that maybe I just needed to have sex with Zoe once, that it would be enough to get her out of my system.
I see now that would be impossible.
A lifetime of fucking Zoe would still never be enough.
At midnight, though, I don’t get a chance to ask her her question.
Instead, the little hand I’d been watching draw shapes on my chest sleepily as I daydreamed about what that one finger would look like with my ring on it moves to my bicep and squeezes.
Once, twice, three times.
I can’t fight the smile when her head tips up to me, a small smile of her own on her lips.
“It’s midnight,” she whispers.
“Mmm.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“That’s my line,” I say, my hand moving her hair over her shoulder.
“Well, I’m stealing it.”
So, I steal one of hers.
“Only if I get to ask one, too.”
“Deal,” she says, and I think she moves to try and sit up, but I hold her tighter, the arm on her waist keeping her down.
If I can have her skin on mine, I will.
I watch her eyes roll and feel her head on my chest like she knows what I’m thinking and that I’m crazy, but she doesn’t argue.
“You want pets?” I ask.
“What?”
“Pets. Do you want any?” She shrugs, and I feel it against me rather than see it.
“I don’t know. I don’t think about it much. It’s hard living in the city because I’d want a dog to have space to run around, but that’s impossible in New York without a boatload of money.” A tiny yawn. “And I’m too lazy to go to a dog park all the time, especially when it’s cold out.”
Zoe hates the cold.
Always has.
“So, you want a dog?” She nods.
“And a cat, I think. A little one. Like those squish-faced ones?”
“Got it. So a dog and a squish-faced cat.” Her head moves to look at me, and in the dim light, I can see her smile.
God, it’s pretty, that smile when she’s not stressed about the real world or about how people will interpret her words. When she’s not worried if she’s living by some crazy standard she thinks other people have for her.
“Your turn,” I say, my voice low when she doesn’t ask.
Her body tightens.
I think she spoke on impulse and now is second-guessing herself.
“I’ll use it tomorrow,” she murmurs.
“Ask now.”
Silence takes over, her breathing steady, and I wonder if she fell asleep, but then her little voice rings through clearly in the dark room.
“How many kids do you want?”