"I'm not antisocial," she said. "I just can't do high doses of people in those kinds of settings."
"I know." I turned her around, leaned down to kiss her once. "There must be men tripping over themselves for your attention."
"The disgusting doctor dudes?" I nodded as I ran my lips over her cheek, her jaw. "I wouldn't even know what that looked like."
"You're not as cute when you fish for compliments, Shap. We've covered this."
"I'm not fishing for anything—"
I didn't have the words, but that didn't stop me from kissing the fight out of her. I could do that. I could take us into the pastel cloud of her apartment and bang the bed away from the wall all night long. I could do that for her. I could—
A loud creak sounded behind us. "Fuuuuck. Why does this always happen to me?"
Sara ducked her head to my chest and I tucked her in close as I glanced over my shoulder to find Riley Walsh descending the stairs. "Can I help you with something?"
He shook his head, straightened his gaze toward the doors. For the first time in his entire life, he didn't douse me in death glares. "Nope. Just wondering why the gods punish me this way. Carry on." When he reached the door, he called, "Good seeing you, Sara."
She groaned into my shirt. "I have no more than three minutes before Alex blows up my text messages."
"Give me your phone," I said, patting her pockets to find the device. Found it on the first try and set it to silent. "You're not dealing with anything other than what I want you to deal with tonight. I promise I'll give it back when I leave."
Some combination of those words was wrong. There was no other explanation for the way Sara tensed in my arms. A beat passed before she took a small step back, putting enough space between us to make it clear that something had changed. Then, "We have to stop doing this."
I really didn't have the words right now. I didn't and it killed me. "Inside," I said, returning to her pocket for the keys. "Let's go."
"We don't like each other," she said when we had the door closed behind us. "We are so, so unhealthy when we're together. Have you noticed that?" She brought both hands to her chest, her fingertips leaving little dots of color behind every time she tapped her clavicle. "I am not like this around anyone else. I am aloof, yes, but I don't get into fights over every little thing and contemplate pummeling people with an oar all the time. Don't you see it? We are a disaster. We're toxic. It's what we do to each other and—"
"Oh my god, shut up." Wincing, I held up a hand. Those words, they fucking stung. "Just stop before you actually drown in your own drama."
"I am not drowning in drama." She responded with an exaggerated frown when I slipped off my coat and dropped it to the back of her sofa. "I'm saying a week or two apart is probably a good thing." She shrugged, hugged her arms across her torso. "Maybe we'll break this little cycle of ours."
"That's what you want?" I stepped closer to her, traced a finger down the line of her arm. Her sweater was impossibly soft, like a baby's blanket repurposed for the likes of women who always hated the things they wanted.
"Maybe we'll leave town and realize we've gotten it out of our systems."
"You didn't answer me."
She forced a smile that would've annoyed the shit out of me a month ago, but only made me sad now. "We only have one more session with Milana. I'm sure it won't be an issue."
I hooked my fingers around the waistband of her pants, pulled her closer. "You still haven't answered me."
She pursed her lips together in a way that seemed like the precursor to her kicking me to the curb, but then she dropped her hands on my chest. "I've been looking at apartments. I mean, I've been looking for months. I do it every night to help me fall asleep." She glanced up at me. She didn't need any help falling asleep when she was with me. "Well, almost every night. But I was thinking it's time to make that move. I'm not cut out for doors that don't work when it's wet."
I nodded because there was no point to stopping her now. She was head and shoulders into this one-sided conversation and there was no arguing with her. Not that I even had the words to argue. I'd fumble it in the worst ways and I couldn't let that be how this went down.
Also, I couldn't let this go down. This wasn't a toxic cycle. There was no getting her out of my system, not when the only thing I required in this life was to know what Sara looked like when she woke up and what she felt like curled around me in the middle of the night, and what she liked to do when she wasn't busy screeching and whether I could keep her with me for the rest of my time on this earth.
Did I have the language to articulate any of this? Not at all.
Did I assume I had a bit more time before I had to learn that language? Fuck, yeah.
Did I have any hope of getting through this night with my vital organs intact? It was anyone's guess.
With that tragedy in mind, I yanked her by the waistband into her bedroom and relieved her of her clothes while she rambled about apartments.
"And I wouldn't mind something a little farther away from the hospital," she said as I planted a hand between her breasts and shoved her to the bed. "This location was perfect when I first moved here, but now I know all the other neighborhoods and I understand how to get around so I'm open to Cambridge. Maybe the Back Bay. I'm not sure. I have to look around some more and—oh."
"I know you'd like to dissociate, but I'd prefer you enjoy some part of this." I flipped her on her belly because I didn't trust myself to be close enough to see the gold in her eyes and keep myself in order. One look and I'd say something wrong, something dangerous, and I'd ruin it. I mean, fuck, she wanted to break the cycle while I was busy mentally scrambling to cancel that vacation of mine because this cycle was the only thing in the world I wanted.
"I'm not dissociating." I could hear her pouting.
"Don't be a brat." I delivered a light slap between her legs. "I've had enough of that from you tonight."
She glanced back at me. "Why haven't you taken your clothes off?"
I opened her top drawer and spent a solid minute reorganizing her hair ties. My only explanation for this mess was that she sleep-shuffled through this drawer every night. "I will when you're ready for that."
"What are you actually saying with those words?"
I grabbed one of her vibrators—she'd handed over the full collection weeks ago—and clicked it on, then off. I shook my head. "If you don't shut that little screech owl mouth, I'll find another use for it."
That did the trick.
I teased her with the vibrator for a bit, careful to keep my hand between her shoulder blades and her face on the mattress because I was pretty sure I was staring at her with murder eyes, but I couldn't help it. She was talking about two-bedroom condos to have a room for yoga, and throwing the happy, non-toxic life she intended to live without me over her shoulder, so, yeah, I couldn't see straight.
She came once on the vibrator, another time on my tongue and fingers. It wasn't a struggle to get her there several times in one night now that she'd given up on the impossibility of it. It'd be great if she applied that logic to other situations.