Disclaimer: I disclaim.
A/N: This took a life of its own. It was supposed to be short and smutty, a sweet request from Sue but it developed into so much more. This is my take on the "The real Paul Anka" episode. Every literati lover should have the right to rewrite that episode and I'm glad Sue gave me the inspiration to write mine. So this is for her, because she's the cockiness my life was missing. This is also for Blair and Myrna who both are… just indescribably sweet and loveable. Thank you guys for bringing so much fun to my life.
Also take note that this is a smut (my first ever published) which is why it's rated M. Now, enjoy and don't forget to let me know what you thought of it.
The day is taking a turn she was definitely not expecting.
She came to him full of smiles and pride, wanting most of all to reestablish a connection she thought had been lost years ago. At first, her motives were not exactly as pure and white as she wanted them to be but he changed them. She wishes it could have taken more efforts on his behalf but all it took were a few smirks, some good old memories and the unmistakable way he carries himself; so strongly it still intrigues her deeply.
All thoughts of wanting to get revenge on a cheating boyfriend flew out of the window from the moment her eyes laid on the face she has been missing more than she allowed herself to admit. She can barely remember being attached to anyone; not when he is as charming and addictive as he is right now.
It's as if their story is a circle that keeps on rolling round and round, repeating itself indefinitely (with very few changes), always bringing them back to the same point, the point where they both realize and understand with painful clarity that they will always be linked to one anther, no matter how hard they want things to change. Sweet boyfriend or cheating boyfriend, it's the same difference for her. Neither of those stories can compare to the one Jess and Rory shared. He had been an awful boyfriend, he had ended their relationship in the cruelest way possible, and he had hurt her so deeply, so truly she still has a hard time moving on. She returned the favor with as much sorrow and fear as he did and yet she can't get that juvenile thought out of her head. The one that she had when she was seventeen, reading a book snuggled to his side and imagining doing it forever. He should have been her one, he should have remained by her side, he was supposed to be her happy ending.
Two years and several heartaches later that image keeps poking her in the heart.
She learned something though, growing up is also letting go of childhood fantasies. So she stands tall and gets stronger every day, putting to the back of her head and on the bottom of her heart the cherished thoughts of him and her shattered hopes.
The poking is usually easier to ignore, her life is full enough, but as the day goes by, she finds it difficult to get rid off the voices in her head and heart screaming at her to get a little closer, laugh at his jokes and smile wider when he looks at her.
After the initial shock of her apparition passed and a few awkward silences were shared, it didn't take too much time for the both of them to relax. Their banter was easily reinstalled and conversations succeeded each other as if there had been no interruption in their relationship. He put her at ease with a teasing smirk when the yacht story was retold or a nervous smile when she told him that The Subsect made it to her favorite top ten books list.
She knew it was all very shallow and that it wouldn't last but that didn't keep her from enjoying his company.
The day passed so quickly, she knows that when she'll remember it later she'll only see a blur of people (his co-workers, Luke and April, faceless customers and a weird poet). As the afternoon reached its end, she told him that she'd never been to Philly before and even though he knew it would not be a real tour of the city he offered her to take her on a walk and buy her a cappuccino from the best coffee house he knew. She grinned brightly and followed him outside the bookstore. She should have probably been a little more reluctant to accept his offer knowing that she should head home sooner rather than later but he had this inexplicable effect on her, making her do things her brain couldn't fathom.
They walked in amicable silence, stealing glances at each other from time to time and hiding secret smiles. He took her to the coffee house and he couldn't restrain a grin when she rolled her eyes in pleasure as she sipped from her cup for the first time. She wanted to kiss his cheek in gratefulness but refrained. Instead, she thanked him with a huge smile and he nodded with a soft smirk.
Before they knew it, sunset had passed and the temperature rose consequently. He wished he could have brought her to his favorite bookstore but it was obviously getting too late for that.
"Don't worry, we've already spent an entire day in a bookstore anyway," she waved off and he nodded. "Wish I could have run up the stairs like Rocky though," she sighed with a fake pout. He laughed then and she couldn't help but join him.
"Next time," he promised lightly, almost whispering and she nodded, hoping that there would be a next time. They headed back to the bookstore, back to her car, heads full and hearts warm and aching.
Clouds are forming above their heads now, angry and gray, about to burst and she doesn't dare compare them to her state of mind because it would only be half true. They had a good day together, no need to spoil it with pained memories and hurtful accusations. They had been there though, in the back of her mind. When it comes to him, happy moments were always shadowed by mistakes and resentment over a story that never had time to fully blossom. But he seems happy and she doesn't want to make the small smile gracing the corners of his lips disappear. So she closes her eyes and dismisses the sad and inappropriate thoughts.
They near her car and she tries to find an excuse to not get into it, to not leave him, all the while hoping he'll be the one to come up with a good enough one. He doesn't.
"Thanks for coming today. It… means a lot to me," he confesses and she smiles softly at the sincerity she hears in his tone.
"It was my pleasure," she replies and he nods shoving his hands in his black jeans pockets. "Thanks for the coffee."
"Don't mention it. It wouldn't have been a fulfilled day if you hadn't fed your addiction," he smirked.
"Wise man," she nods and he chuckles.
The wind picks up and her hair flies around. She tries to tame it, repeatedly tucking some locks behind her ears, huffing and grumbling at the same time. She glares at him when he smirks widely at her antics and almost doesn't catch the softness in his eyes. Wind and hair forgotten, she averts her eyes and tries to remember how to breathe. He did it again. He captivated her, consuming her with soft brown eyes and cocky attitude and she was unable to not give into him fully.
He's like coffee; dark, warm, soft, bitter, addictive and cherished.
She hates it all. She hates him for being who he is and doing what he did and in a way still does. He just knows how to get under her skin in a way nobody ever could, he crawls inside of her, grasping her heart and surrounds it with both warmth and sorrow. She hates herself for falling so effortlessly over and over again.
How somebody can have so much of an effect on another person is still a mystery to her.
She doesn't feel all that light anymore and without being able to restrain it, anger starts building up in her chest. She groans inwardly at the repetitiveness of the paths they keep following. Love and hate battling each other, never really separating, and neither winning. He infuriates her and she hates loving it. She guesses that their relationship is her experience of passion except what she feels about him was never limited to simply that. Oh how she wishes it was passion and only the burning of emotions that kept them coming back to each other. These unforgettable feelings are there to last and somehow, she has always known it.
She closes her eyes and crosses her arms protectively trying to keep him -all of him- away, trying to prevent any further damage from occurring. She wants to go back home only keeping in mind the lightness and sweetness of the day; she doesn't want their past to spoil the softness of these memories. When she looks back at him his eyes are cast down and his shoulders are stiff; he must have sensed the change in the atmosphere. Or maybe he still knows how to read her and he caught on her apprehensions and fears.
"It's never going to change, is it?" he asks suddenly, looking up rather sharply and she knows he's trying to hide the sadness that he couldn't keep away from his voice. She closes her eyes tightly, recognizing the burning of tears. He takes a few steps forward and comes closer to her. He places a gentle hand on her elbow and leans over to depose a tender kiss on her forehead. She shivers and, eyes still closed, lets what she knows to be only the first of many tears roll down her cheeks. His lips linger on her forehead and she hears him take a shaky breath. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. He steps away, letting go of her and she can feel her heart wrench. The coldness she is feeling right at that instant, sensing him back away again, has nothing to do with the weather. She opens her eyes and finds him looking at her with so much sadness, regret and guilt that her mouth goes dry and her eyes burns with more tears. She'll be crying these ones for him and all he went through, with and without her. Her anger disappears and lets the place to compassion.
This is when she realizes.
This is when she understands.
This is the most frightening and most wonderful moment of her life.
This is when she decides to let go and loses control.
Yale, Logan, bridesmaids, stolen yacht, lost dreams; they're not the reasons why she came here today.
The words that he knows and always uses with passion and truth, the battle he lead against the world and himself to become the man he is now; tall and strong with the lightness of a child and the darkness of a lost soul, the smiles he throws her way; special and full of trust, his smooth hands and the way his touch brushes away all her fears, these are the reasons why she's here today and the realization, though not as surprising as it should have been, still hits her like a ton of bricks.
The clouds get darker and darker and she knows a storm is coming. She thinks that it will fit the scene perfectly.
She gazes deeply in those brown eyes of his, looking for something that she knows she will find and is shocked to see that instead they reflect surrender. He has lost hope and he is already preparing himself for the last blow, the last glance, the last good bye. That's something she never thought she'd witness and it scares her to the core of her soul. Her tears are running freely now, leaving paths that his eyes follow with guilt. Their eyes convey the words they want to utter out loud and the stiffness of their bodies translates their need to get closer to each other. She decides to cross the bridge, her words contradicting her feelings.
"You should have never left." A beat passes before the meaning sink in. His eyes flash with anger.
"I had to."
"I could have helped."
"I didn't need your help." These words cut her sharply and she has a hard time catching her breath afterwards. She thinks otherwise and it hurts to know he doesn't. His eyes soften and he takes a step closer. "Rory, I had to fuck up, it was what I was supposed to do, what I needed to do and I could have never done it if I had stayed. I didn't want you to be part of that." He pauses to take a deep breath. "I had screwed up enough as it was and the burden I was carrying only got heavier. You were meant to do better than watch me fuck up over and over again," she thinks she understands but she can't help but feel like she had missed something huge, something important.
"I just wanted to be there for you," she whispers, her eyes never leaving his.
He nods. "I know you did. Look, I'm really sorry I left like I did and trust me, I wish things would have happened differently but there's nothing I can do now to undo what I did then."
At that moment, a loud and angry thunder echoes in the dark sky, making her jump. She looks around and realizes that except for them, the long street is empty. A few seconds later lightening rips through the sky and they both look up.
One drop… two drops… three drops. In a matter of seconds the rain pours down on them, soaking them to the bone. However, neither feels the need to look for a shelter. They look back down simultaneously. He smiles sadly when he sees how beautiful she looks and she feel new tears mixing with the rain drops on her skin.
"You and I… it's what it is, Rory," he shrugs and her eyebrows narrow in confusion. "You've moved on and I'm glad you're happier. Let's leave it at that," he pleads her with his eyes.
"It would be easier," she concurs. He chuckles humorlessly then.
"Not really but it's the way things are supposed to be. Who knows? Maybe in a few years, we'll be able to look back and only remember the good stuff." She's unsettled by the easy flow of his words and it almost makes her forget about how hurtful they really are. It's as if it's a rehearsed speech, words that he was planning to say one day or another. A few moments passes, each of them lost in their own turmoil of hurt and lost hope. Eventually, he nods an unspoken good bye and turns to leave. She watches his retreating back and hears her heart scream and reach out for him.
"I never did," she shouts over the rain, hoping that he'll catch the words and their meaning. Her voice is loud but shaky with tears and the fear of losing him again. He stops and turns around slowly, an eyebrow raised in question. She runs up to him and comes to stand close to his more than soaked body. "I've never really moved on, I just kept breathing and walking, following paths that I wasn't supposed to, all the while screwing everything in my life."
"I doubt that," he says, his eyes unreadable.
"I realize the awful cheesiness of it all but without you, my life just wasn't the same anymore," she confesses softly her eyes mist with tears and a small, almost invisible smile on her lips. Despite that, he remains stoic, as if unaffected or maybe he's just skeptic and she understands it's going to take more than mushy lines to get to him. "I miss you, you jerk!" she says forcefully and she sees his guards fall down.
"You don't miss me, you miss something that never really was," his tone is heartbreaking and she gets furious because he's questioning something that was never questionable.
"We were real. It was real," she says confidently, her anger making her words clear. He looks down but she can still see the conflict in his eyes. She knows she's close, so she utters the next words softly, the strength held in their meaning not in the volume of her voice. "It still is." He looks up and she can see the hope fighting its way back in his brown pools.
Before the thought has even enough time to register in her mind, she throws herself at him, her arms looping around his neck, her wet body crashing into his, melting into his. He reacts immediately, almost as an automatism, as if his body is programmed to respond to hers. His arms come to encircle her body into a gentle embrace. Her head lies on his shoulder, his head his buried in her hair and they held onto each other, letting the heaviness of the situation lessen a little.
"I don't want to leave," she whispers, tightening her arms around him, bringing him closer. There's no hesitation in her tone, no lies, just the plain truth and she smiles against his shoulder because she feels like a huge weight has finally been lifted off her shoulders. This is what she needed to admit and the relief that comes with this admission is so sweet that she wants to scream out of pure joy.
"You have a life to get back to," there are still undertones of hesitation in his voice but they are barely audible; the hope that she may stay and the reluctance to let her go are far more obvious.
"It's not as much fun as it used to be," she replies. She lifts her head up, her hands traveling down to his shoulders.
"What are you saying, Rory?" he asks looking deeply into the ocean of her eyes.
She shivers under his gaze but does not break eye contact; he's not intimidating, he's just overwhelming. "Nothing," she says before dipping down and capturing his lips in a tender kiss that steals his breath away. The sweet pressure she applies on his lips sends him reeling and for a split second he's hesitant to react but when her thin lips starts moving, trying to part his, he loses the will to keep control of the situation, of his body, of her.
So he kisses her back, with everything he has because even if she initiated it, he knows painfully well that she can pull away, run away. It wouldn't be the first time. His tongue, soft and engaging, comes to lick her upper lip and she gladly opens up. The kiss is soft, tender, and full of desperation; it's beautiful because it's them and because there is nothing that can compare to that. They take their time, enjoying the rediscovery, losing themselves in the familiar feeling and the exhilaration of the newness of it all. Her stomach is buzzing with warmth and excitation. She feels like the wind have been knocked out of her and in that moment, as he sucks on her lower lip, sending her over the edge, she finds herself able to wish and dream again.
The rain is still pouring down on them, some raindrops playing a role in their interaction but they're past minding by now. It seems like they have been kissing, licking and sucking for days and they are in no hurry to stop. Reality comes bursting their bubble when her cell phone goes off in the pocket of her jeans. She breaks away slowly, deposing one last peck on his lips. He opens his eyes, not quite sure where to go from here.
"Aren't you going to answer that?" he asks when ne notices that she still has her arms locked around his neck. She shakes her head and let her hand wander to his face. Her fingers brush and follow paths of drops on his left cheek, her eyes following them as if mesmerized. He's beautiful and she smiles softly when her eyes meet his again.
"I'm cold," she confesses. He nods, takes one of her hands in his and silently leads her back to the bookstore. It's dark inside but she has no time to dwell on it as he leads her up the stairs to what he described earlier to be a disaster zone; his apartment. The door isn't lock and he pushes it open with his free hand while the other one squeezes hers reassuringly. He switches on the light and she has to blink a few times to get accustomed to its brightness. When her eyes finally adjust and have the opportunity to take the place in, they widen. She should have known though, this is Jess's apartment, of course it would be filled with books. Jess silently wanders to an adjacent room, which is certainly the kitchen and leaves Rory standing alone in the living room. Or, more exactly what is left of it. There are books everywhere: scattered on the floor and on the coffee table, pilled up or aligned on three enormous bookshelves, there is some on the windowsill as well… they are literally everywhere. How can such a beautiful place be described as a disaster? It was literally taking her breath away.
She grins, her eyes wandering along the first of the bookshelves who is the biggest of the three. It seems very solid and it should be; the amount of books stocked on it could make her grandfather's library look like a child's collection. It's placed against the largest wall of the room and goes from top to bottom, from left to right, not living place for anything else. She could spend a whole summer here, not leaving the place once and she still would not have enough time to read all of the books in this room. And it was just the living room, who knows what other treasure this apartment hides?
He finally comes back, a hot coffee in one hand (how long has he been gone?), a towel in the other and a smirk playing on his lips. The jacket he was wearing is now gone, leaving him in that white t shirt representing a girl that looks oddly familiar. She doesn't know but he's been watching her for a few minutes, mesmerized by the display of emotions in her eyes and the awe this place provokes in her. He has been living here for over eighteen months now and she's the first person brought up here (by either him or his roommates) who really understands the power of this particular room. Ever since she appeared in his life, there has been one thing that's been repeating itself over and over again in his head: Don't get your hopes up! He learned throughout the years that it was easier thought than done. He also learned to live with the disappointment that comes with not having been able to follow his own advice. And as he watches her getting lost in the sea of books –his books- in front of her, he feels his heart wrench at the thought that she belongs here and if he would have any say in it, she could stay right where she was forever.
She gratefully accepts the coffee and brings it closer to her lips but doesn't drink. She just enjoys the heat passing from the cup to her hands. She inhales the sent and relaxes completely. She is safe. Here with him, surrounded by their addiction, a hot cup of coffee in her hand; she is safe. She takes a sip and sighs, letting the beverage warm her cold and wet body. She closes her eyes as a shudder runs down her spine. He notices.
"Here," he hands her the towel, "you should really dry off," his voice is full of concern. She nods and takes the towel from him. She takes tentative steps into the room and winces as she assesses the damage caused by the downpour. The first thing she does is take off her soaked Chuck Taylors. She stands barefoot on his bare floor and starts drying off her hair. He watches her with a small smile on his lips and decides that he doesn't care whether or not she should be here. She's here and that's more than enough for him.
"You could use a towel as well," she remarks, a hint of mockery in her voice.
He chuckles, trying to hide his embarrassment. She can be such a distraction and she has no idea. "I guess," he replies with a smirk but does not move. She takes off her thin jacket and hands him back the towel after drying off her bare arms. He still does not move. He's looking at her in that way again; as if she had the answers to the entire world's questions or maybe not the world's but certainly his.
"Kiss me again," it's not an order, it's not a plea; it's just the only thing left to do now. Her tone is soft, her voice is small but her eyes hold his with confidence. He puts the towel down on the coffee table, next to her forgotten coffee. He takes a few steps and comes to stand close to her, so close that she can feel his hot breath tickling her cheeks, her nose, and her lips. He brings up his left hand and with a touch of his fingers, he brushes her bangs to the side. His eyes follow the movement and she closes hers, reveling in the nearness of his body. His fingers travel down her face, softly tracing the invincible map of her freckles. The palm of his hands caresses her cheek and finally stops. She knows what is about to come but she still feels the butterfly in her stomach turn into fireworks when he finally leans over to kiss her. Their kisses are always full of passion and discovery but they are always multiplied in intensity when he's the one taking the lead. He just knows, without anyone having to tell him, how to make her come undone. She read in thousands of books and saw in hundreds of movies and TV shows about the experience of a good kiss but they are not well enough inspired words or enough talented actors in the whole world to describe the beauty that is held in one of Jess's kisses.
His lips seeks hers eagerly, sometimes teasingly but always with tenderness. A brush here, a lick there to make her open up and soon they're engaged in battle of tongues, soft and demanding. Air is not a problem anymore, it never really was between them; they became pros at breathing through their noses a long time ago when Luke's idea of contraception was his ten minutes plan.
His hands leave her face and caress their way down her upper body to come rest on her hips, bringing her closer. She loops her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. She moans, he groans, they sigh in unison and in pure pleasure and the world around them is just an old memory. She almost forgets her name when he bites on her lower lips. He licks off the offence and carries on, never lacking neither attention nor skill. She keeps encouraging him to go further and he'd be more than happy to oblige but it'd be foolish and utterly stupid to let it go too far. As much as he wishes she could stay, he knows she won't, even if she wants to. Like he said earlier, she has a life to get back to and, not that it stopped him before, she has a boyfriend. So, in spite of both of their reluctances, he slows down the kiss, finishing it with a sweet peck on her swollen lips.
She opens her eyes with a frown and he lets go of her waist before taking a step back.
"What are you doing?"
"The right thing."
"Jess," her eyes are pained and her tone is pleading this time. She doesn't want it –them- to stop.
"Rory, it was supposed to be a friendly visit. You shouldn't be cheating on your boyfriend with your ex," he's not looking at her; he always was a pitiful liar.
"I'm an adult," she takes a step closer and brings her hand up to his cheek. He hasn't shaved this morning and the stubble makes her smile. He's a man in so many levels now. "I know what I'm doing. Logan hasn't been my boyfriend for a long time now. He… it just doesn't work. This," she says deposing a sweet kiss on his forehead "is what I want," she finishes in a murmur against his skin. Her body, her soul, her spirit are still on fire, burning for him, praying that he'd join them so her life could make sense again. "I want you, Jess. I always have. This is right," she says burying her head in his neck, her arms gripping his shoulders. His arms encircle her back and he brings her as close as possible.
He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and whispers, "I've missed you too." She holds him tighter and he knows she heard him.
She kisses the side of his neck once, twice and the third time she opens the mouth to taste his salty and damp skin with her tongue. He groans inwardly and with a hissed "fuck it" he pushes her against the large bookshelf, making her gasp in surprise. The atmosphere has changed, she can see it in the way he looks at her with hunger and longing, his desire finally coming to the surface, making her shiver with anticipation. He smirks in satisfaction and brings one of his hands to her neck, caressing it. She tilts her head to the side and he takes the opportunity to depose a wet kiss on the side of it. Apparently, the Jess who was struggling with his emotions was gone, leaving the place to a very self assured Jess, almost unstoppable.
"You're sure, Gilmore?" the question is said loud enough but her fogged mind only perceives it as a whisper. She nods a yes and that's all the encouragement he needs. He won't back down now, they will figure out what to do later. Right now, he needs her more than he ever did. His fingers travel lower her collarbone and stops at the first button of her short sleeved white blouse. They lock eyes and slowly, one by one, he loosens up her buttons. Her mind his reeling with hundreds of different thoughts, her heart is bursting with emotions she never experienced before but the only thing that really register is the sweet feeling of his smooth hands discovering uncharted territories. When the last button is undone he steps closer and kisses her softly. Meanwhile; his hands make their way up her shoulders, sliding under the soft fabric and slowly, almost teasingly take off her shirt. His hands are warm and leave paths of pleasure on the skin of her arms. He traces every freckle, ever inch and she swears she never felt so alive before.
Her hands which were playing with the hem of his shirt sneak under it to seek the warmth of his fantastic body. He shudders lightly at the cold contact but they don't break apart. Her hands travel around his waist to finally come to rest on his abs and he deepens the kiss. The need to get closer intensifies and his shirt is still in the way. Before he had time to process the thought of getting rid of it, she has already passed it over his head and it lies now on the floor, on top of her white blouse.
They don't resume kissing, not right away. In the past, they had their share of what Lorelai would call 'hot make out sessions'. They used to tease and frustrated each other to no end, they often pushed the boundaries but they never actually stepped over them. This is the first time they find themselves bare chest in front of each other ad they both want to take the time to enjoy God's good work. Her porcelain skin has never been more inviting and his bare torso is causing a pileup of dirty thoughts in her mind. He seems stronger and she cannot wait to feel him closer again. She knows her bra will soon be an obstacle so she does what he wants to; takes it off and finally exposes her breast. Her nipples are already hard from the cold and she feels her cheeks stain from a deep blush at the bravery of her action. He smiles softly and puts his hands on her stomach. He caresses her skin slowly, brushing every inch, making her squirm and shiver and this time it has nothing to do with the cold. He comes closer and closer, pushing her against the huge peace of furniture but she doesn't feel cornered. She feels wanted, desired, unique…she feels loved.
"You're beautiful," he reassures her and she smiles shyly. He starts kissing her again, but this time, every move, every touch, every breath is deeper and more intense. The heat generated by their body is only getting higher and higher. Their hands are all over each of their bodies always looking for more skin to touch, their mouths are desperately seeking for more skin to kiss and their souls are finally reconnecting. Pants and underwear has joined the rest of their wet clothes on the floor and their naked bodies are pushing up against each other, building a tension that will soon consume them both.
They began slowly but now, she can feel his manhood, hard, teasing her secret garden. If he wasn't so overwhelming she would have laughed at her choice of words. Thank god he cannot read minds.
His tongue is licking its way up her ear while she bites gently on his shoulder. He sucks on her earlobe and she throws her head back with a raw moan. She feels him smirk against her skin and shivers because she fully realizes the impact that this passion-filled interaction will have on her life. There's no turning back and she's quite happy about that fact. The more she thinks about it, the more she understands how much of a logical decision this actually is. This is where she is supposed to be, in his arms, preparing to fly over the edge. In her mind there is no doubt left, this is where she belongs. If her own feelings aren't enough, the fact that they're making love for the first time against a bookshelf is enough to convince her that this is the right choice.
He let go off her for a few seconds and she pouts childishly. He smiles and kisses her pout her away before running to his bedroom to retrieve a condom. He comes back, the protection already in place and apologetic smirk gracing his features.
"Nice," she comments with an edge to her voice. He chuckles at the pout still present on her lips and the unpleased frown on her brow.
"Now, now Rory, I thought you were all about safe sex," me mocks in a whisper before nibbling her shoulder. She rolls her eyes at his cockiness but still surrender to his touch.
"You're so full of it."
He smirks but doesn't respond. He bends his knees a little, places his arms under her bottom and on one swift movement, he has her pined up against the bookshelf. They lock eyes again, breathings heavy and chest coming up and down against each other. She wraps her legs tightly around his waist and whimpers when she feels his length between her thighs. Her hunger increases and she captures his lips for a passionate kiss. He smiles and starts rubbing his hips against hers, making her loose her breath for a brief moment. She holds her arms tighter around his shoulders, hoping to find the support she just lost and she does. His strong arms are here to carry her along the wonderful journey they're about to take.
When he finally enters her, she tenses and has a hard time catching her breath. She feels tears forming in her eyes and she can't understand what is happening to her.
"Hey," he calls softly ad she looks at him. "Breathe," he kisses her cheek and she does what she's told. "It's gonna be ok," he assures with a nod ad she believes him, tears forgotten. Of course it's going to be alright. He leaves her body and the second time he enters her she's more relaxed, completely ready for him. She moans her approval and he tightens his hold on her. He sets the pace and she follows, glad that he decided to be in charge this time. He's slowly driving her to madness and she loves every second of it. Her hands run in his hair, encouraging him to go deeper, faster and harder. He's gentle, full of devotion and she wants to cry because she missed him so much. She missed her Jess, the one who always knew how to be good to her even though he screwed up many times. He tried and people –she- should have given him more credit for that.
Her climax is close, oh so close and he hugs her to him. She tightens around him as her climax hits her full force. She goes higher and higher, losing herself in the feelings and only comes back to him after several minutes. Her body jerks with intense pleasure and she's sure she's never felt this close to heaven before. Her eyes are closed but a grin appears on her lips as she blissfully revels on the feeling of his strong arms holding her up. He comes shortly after her, with a deep groan, his head buried in her hair. She strokes the back of it and kisses his temple.
Yes, the day has taken a turn she was not expecting but she thank God every day for that. It's been 18 months now. She's done with Yale and he's working on a new book (a series of one shots revolving around bookshelves). She got an internship for the New York Times and he's in charge of opening the New York branch of Truncheon books. She loves him and he loves her.
What more is there to say?
A/N: ok that was quite long but I though you guys deserved this much after my long absence. I'm still around, just over busy. The next installment in the 'Ridiculous' series should be out soon, alongside to chapter 3 of 'Guardian Angels'.
Thanks for reading, don't forget to review. Oh and come join Knowhere's forum. It's a fun place to talk about great stories and meet new people.