That’s when I roll until I’m over her, her eyes drifting shut with pleasure at the orgasm that’s just out of reach.
“Look at me, Zoe,” I say, my breath coming in pants as I slowly fuck her.
She doesn’t look at me.
Her eyes are somewhere on a wall behind me, avoiding looking into my own, slowly drifting shut then opening again with pleasure.
But it’s not the pleasure that’s keeping her eyes away from me.
It’s what she doesn’t want to see.
I know this better than I know most things.
Somehow, I know in my gut that Zoe knows if she looks at me right now, as I thrust into her slowly, she’ll see something that will undoubtedly scare her.
Something that she’s, for some reason, convinced herself she’s not ready to see, but it’s so long past due at this point.
“Fuck me, Zander,” she moans, her legs tightening around my hips, her dull nails digging into my ass.
But I shake my head.
I won’t.
I can’t.
“I’m not gonna do that, Zoe.”
A frustrated noise comes from her, and I smile.
“What are you doing then?” she asks, and with that, I move one hand from the bed next to her head and move it to the side of her face, my thumb cupping her chin until she’s forced to look at me.
And it takes over her face.
Pure fucking beauty when she sees my eyes.
Sees what I’ve been trying to tell her, to show her, for a week.
For years, if I’m being honest with myself.
I’m so fucking in love with this woman that I can’t breathe.
“I’m making love to you, Zoe.”
“Zander—”
“No more Zander. No more pretending. This is real, Zoe. Us? We’re real. If you wanna play pretend, just know you’ll be doing it for the rest of your life. I’m not letting you get away from me, Zoe.” I mean that.
I might have an uphill battle in front of me, but I’ll be pushing that rock up that hill until it becomes my goddamn gravestone.
“Zander—” The word is scared, still tinged with lust and unfulfilled pleasure, but scared all the same.
My words terrify her.
But there’s no more time for kid gloves.
“You’ll never hurt. You’ll never feel lost because I’ll always be holding your hand. You’ll never be alone. Never again. I’ll make all of your dreams come true, Zoe. I just need you to give me the chance.”
I keep staring at her, waiting for her response.
But she doesn’t argue this time.
I pull out slowly, entering her just as slowly, and she moans low, eyes drifting shut.
The thumb under her chin moves, pressing on her neck just enough to have her eyes shooting open.
“No. You keep your eyes open. They do not close, not this time. You’re gonna watch what you do to me.”
“Zander,” she moans, tightening around me.
And I wonder in the back of my mind what’s doing it to her—the hand? The need to keep her eyes open? Or is it just us?
“Don’t you see it, Zoe? How wild you make me? Don’t you feel it?” I thrust harder this time, hand moving tighter on her neck, her eyes going wider, her pussy gripping tighter. “You were made for me, Zoe. If you didn’t figure that out over the past thirty fucking years together, you need to realize it now, with my fucking cock in you, when you fit so fucking perfect around me.”
“Zander!” she moans, voice frantic.
“I know, baby. Find it. Find it, take me with you, and keep your eyes on mine as you do.”
And then she falls, screaming my name, gripping me tight, and taking me with her.
But the whole time, her eyes stay on mine and I can see it there, clear as day.
She knows she’s mine.
Hours later, we’re lying under the warm sheets, bodies naked, rain pelting the windows.
It’s cozy and comfortable, but I can tell she’s back to overthinking.
Zoe is always overthinking.
“What happens when we get home?” she asks into my neck, and I’m taking that as a good sign.
Zoe who didn’t want this to continue wouldn’t need to ask. She’d just know it would be over. Zoe who doesn’t want it to end asks.
“This is a fairy tale, right? We’re playing into it,” I say, trying to keep it light.
“What happens when it ends, Zander? How do we—”
“Don’t look at the end. Don’t worry about it. Just give me this,” I say, cutting her off. I look at the clock and smile, running my hand through her hair, fingers catching at knots she didn’t brush out after our moment in the rain and definitely not after the last two hours in this bed. “It’s midnight.”
She moves her head up to look at me with a smile.
A carefree one.
She’s no longer worried, not sitting in the panic of what-ifs and what happens whens.
Good.
That’s also a good fucking sign.
Right?
“What’s with you and midnights?” she asks.
Midnights have been my favorite time since I was thirteen—the first time Zoe woke up at midnight for a glass of water and ran into me.
But not the last time.
Even now, when I get home after a night shift, a twisted part of me wonders if she were mine, would she be waiting for me? Would she be sitting in my kitchen with a bowl of cereal, sleepy eyes because she woke up twenty minutes ago on instinct, knowing I was on my way home to her?
“When you used to sleep over with Luna, you’d always come downstairs and get water in the middle of the night. Always woke me up, and then I’d come out and talk with you. Those are some of my favorite memories.”
“You’re a creep, you know? I was four years younger than you.” She smiles like it’s silly, but I shake my head, a hand moving to her face, so she gets what I’m saying.
I need her to understand this.
“Even then, you were one of my best friends, Zoe. Ten years of you not being mine, and anytime we were together, I felt fucking whole. I liked talking to you even then. Liked the chaos that came out of your mouth when no one was looking.”
“Chaos doesn’t come out of my mouth anymore.”
“You won’t let it. Won’t let the chaos out.” I press my lips below her ear.
“That’s not true.”
“It is. But that’s fine. I’ll make it my mission, Zoe. Drag the chaos out of you. Make you happy if it’s the last thing I do.” I roll her until she’s below me. “And you’ll micromanage my chaos so I don’t burn myself out before I can get you into bed.” She smiles.
“You do that, you know. Overcommit yourself. Peewee coach, helping at the Center, helping at Camp Sunshine. Taking up extra shifts.” Her hand with those pretty pink nails she keeps looking and smiling at when she thinks I don’t notice moves to my face, brushing the thick, longish hair back.
This feels . . . different.
“I like to help. I’m single, so I’ve got no one waiting for me at home.” A stab to my gut, but her smile grows, easing the ache.
“Would that be my job, then? Keep you home? Give you a reason to come home to me?”
“Knowing you? You’d be right there with me, helping whoever needs it around town.”