But Jagger felt that was a match.
“But for this, you and me,” he carried on, “I think it’s okay, it works for me, because we have time and it doesn’t seem like…there’s no race to…”
He couldn’t figure out how to finish that.
“Get it all in before it all ends?” she suggested.
He closed his eyes.
She cuddled closer.
“We have time, Jagger,” she assured.
His voice was thick when he said, “Yeah.”
“That’s the difference, you know, for us?”
“Uh…” he said, because he didn’t know.
She tipped her head back and he lifted his.
“My arrows, your race. That’s how we are. That’s what we learned to be. They taught us the biggest lesson we’ll probably ever learn, and it’s a lesson they would never have wanted to teach. We now have no choice but to live like that. But with each other, we can have quiet. With each other, we can slow down. With each other, we can be right where we are. That’s the difference. That’s me for you and you for me. Do you feel that?”
Oh he felt it, all right.
He nodded.
“That’s why I don’t wanna fuck. Because I really do wanna fuck. But that’s not us. It’s not for now. We have time for that. We need to wait for that time. Yeah?”
He could not believe he was doing it, but he nodded again, and he meant it.
“We’ll know when it’s right,” she said.
“Totally didn’t agree with not making out with you, though,” he pointed out.
She smiled up at him.
Then she slid up him.
He took her mouth.
It was slow and warm and wet, and it lasted a long time.
And he couldn’t believe it was him who did it, but it was him who eventually ended it and said, “Ready for bed?”
“Yeah, baby.”
They grabbed the drinks they didn’t fully drink, the pillows and the lamp.
They took turns in the bathroom, her last, and he was in her bed, which was a mattress and box spring on the floor with some kind of carving on the wall at the head, a fitted sheet, no top sheet, and a ton of pillows and blankets. The nightstands were wooden trays on the ground on each side.
He was in his boxer briefs.
She came out in a tank and panties.
He’d turned out all the lights but the one on a tray by the bed.
She left it on when she slid into him, so he pulled her close, rolled into her, reached and switched it off.
You could hear the traffic on Colfax, city lights were coming in the windows, but Archie pulled the covers up over their heads and suddenly, they were alone in the world.
“Locked here, with me,” she whispered.
With her words, it felt like his entire chest was banded iron tight.
But the second he had that feeling, it released.
So Jag tangled up with her, kissed her shoulder and settled in.
“Sleep, Archie.”
“Okay, baby.”
She shoved her face in his throat.
And as she drifted off to sleep, Jagger wondered.
He wondered if his dad laid awake with his mom pressed close and he thought, being just like that with her, that the world was completely right.
And he really hoped his dad had that.
Even just once.
He hoped his dad had that at least once.
Before he died.
Chapter Six
Since Eternity
Archie
The next morning, Jagger turned and sprawled over onto his back when Archie slid away from him in bed.
She sat on the side and took him in.
His messy, thick, overlong, dark hair.
The heavy stubble on his strong jaw.
Those damned lips that were perfect.
He had a smattering of hair on his chest and belly, it wasn’t thick or long, though it got dense where it led into his boxers.
He was cut in a lean way.
He was really tall.
He had some tats on his arms, but the one that took her attention was over his heart.
It said K.D.H.W.G.
She had no idea what that meant, but she could guess “D” was Dutch, “W” was Wilder and “G” was Graham, his dad.
So the others: Mom and Stepdad.
Stepdad got better billing.
Real dad coming up the rear.
They’d be getting into that.
She sat at the side of the bed and she wanted to touch him, but she didn’t.
If she did, she wouldn’t stop.
She might not ever stop.
Archie was not afraid of that thought.
He gave her peace.
She was at one with anything, because of him.
She wanted to crawl into his lap like a little girl.
She wanted to ride his face like an Amazon.
She wanted to press against his back on his bike.
She wanted to stand by his side on the edge of the Grand Canyon and stare at forever.
She wanted to trade shots of raw spirit with him in Nepal like Marion in Raiders of the Lost Ark.
She wanted him to make her dad know she was okay and always would be so her father could stop worrying about her.
She wanted to sit on a mountain and watch the sun set then fuck and talk until they could turn the other way and watch the sun rise.
She wanted to bow before him and let him fuck her cunt like he owned it.
She wanted to mistress his hair and make him ask her permission if he ever wanted to cut it.
She wanted to watch him gnaw meat from a bone.
She wanted to bake his every next birthday cake.
She wanted to argue with him over which new couch to buy.
She wanted him to pull her over his thighs and spank her then shove her between them and fuck her face.
She wanted her symbol tatted into the palm of his hand, because that was where he had her.
She wanted his symbol in the palm of hers, right under her puddle of tears.
She wanted to get their tarot read together.
She wanted to listen to his heart with a stethoscope.
She wanted his cock up her ass.
She wanted to claim his.
She wanted him to paint her toenails.
She wanted every inch of him.
Every centimeter.
Every thought.
She wanted to give him every inch of her.
Every centimeter.
Every thought.
And none of this frightened her.
She felt nothing but peace.
Because he was hers.
And he had been since she was fourteen.
And she was his.
She knew this.
Because she had been since eternity.
And finally.
He was right there.
Chapter Seven
The Village
Jagger
It was safe to say, Jagger was not a morning person.
So after he spent the night at her place, Jag did not wake up with the dawn.
He woke when he woke, refreshed, and since he was at Archie’s and the sun had no direct shot at getting into her pad, he had no idea what time it was.
But when he turned to the side, saw the bed was empty save him, and got up on an elbow to scan the space, he saw her in the kitchen wearing the white tank she went to bed in and a pair of wide-legged satin pants that were a rosy color.
She had a mug of coffee cradled in both hands and her hip against the counter.
“Why are you over there?” he groused.