Page 74 of From Coast to Coast
It doesn’t take him long to come, his release rolling through him and sending his body into shivers. He strokes me slowly, breathing steadily into my ear where his face is still pressed against mine. When I slide my finger slowly from his body, he whimpers and I immediately come, arching up as much as I’m able with him on top of me, and turning my head to bury my nose in his hair.
We melt back into each other and the mattress, working to steady our breathing. Remy is the first to recover, tucking his chin and kissing sweetly over my shoulder. I stroke my fingertips up and down his back, no more concerned about getting up to clean off than he is. If he wanted to spend the entire day just like this, he’d hear no arguments from me.
“Can you breathe?” he asks suddenly, lifting his head and peering at me.
“Haven’t tasted fresh air in hours,” I quip, and he chuckles. Banding my arms around him, I hold him in place in case he gets it in his head to get off of me. “I’m fine.”
“I had big plans for us today, but now I’m not sure I’ll be able to even walk.”
“Shit, I’m sorry, are you?—”
“Perfectly fine and ready for round two tonight, just as soon as I consume some protein and electrolytes,” Remy cutsin silkily. I snort, relaxing back into the bed. “I feel used and I fucking love it.”
Before I can respond, a crack of thunder rolls out above the house. Both of us turn our heads to look out the window that just a little while ago had sunlight streaming through. Heavy, dark clouds sit low over the ocean, and as I watch, I see a fork of lightning briefly light up the horizon. Remy lays his head back down on my chest, eyes facing toward the window, and sighs.
“I love thunderstorms,” he whispers.
And I love you.“Yeah. Me too.”
There is little more than a stretch of sand and glass separating Remy’s house from the elements; we have a front-row seat to the storm. We drag ourselves out of bed, shower, and make our way downstairs to watch the show. The morning is spent eating homemade breakfast burritos, curled up on the couch in sweats, Remy plastered to my side. His bare feet are folded up beside him as he leans into me, head propped on my shoulder and eyes on the massive windows overlooking the water. Each roll of thunder shakes the house and sends water splattering against the windows; the lightning appears so close it might as well be inside. I’ve got a mug of hot tea in one hand and the other tucked up inside his hoodie, warm against his skin.
The smell of black tea and rain permeate the room, overpowered only by the coconut that wafts from Remy’s hair when I lean over him. I need to buy as many coconut-scented things as I can so I can bring a little of him with me when I go back to Colorado.
And, just as quick as that, my stomach sinks. As much as this feels like we’re cohabitating together, this is only just a vacation. It’ll end in a couple days and the pair of us will goback to our respective teams, and our empty apartments. The need to plan for the future is gnawing at me. I want to know what he means when he says we’re together and how far he’s willing to take that.
“Remy.”
“Mm.”
I glance down. His cheek is smushed up against my shoulder and his eyelashes flutter as his eyes track over the windows, watching the storm. His forearm is draped casually across my thigh. He’s so close—if I were to stand up from the couch, he’d tip over.
“Can I come back here during the off-season?” He shifts, lifting his head to look at me. My heart clenches painfully. He looks so damn cozy, with his bedroom hair, sleepy eyes, and sweats. I knew this would happen, and yet it still feels like something of a surprise—falling for my friend with benefits is so classically me, it’s laughable.
“Of course,” he says, in a tone that conveys he’d thought that was obvious.
“Not for a visit, though. I was thinking…maybe I could find a long-term rental and stay for the whole break. A few months. Rent a car and everything.”
He turns a little bit so he’s facing me, brow furrowed in bewilderment. “I thought we’d already decided that yesterday. Remember?”
“Right, but I want to stay the whole summer, not just a vacation. We could do proper dates, not long-distance ones.” I trace my eyes over the lines of his face, trying to discern his thoughts through his expression. The off-season is a long way off, I know, but it’s not so far away that we can’t make plans.
Unless he’s still unsure about this relationship and doesn’twant to commit to something when he doesn’t even think we’ll still be together.
“What is this about?” He presses the pad of his thumb to the corner of my mouth. Apparently, I’m frowning. I quickly change my expression back to neutrality.
“It might be too soon to make those kinds of plans, though,” I say, even though it really doesn’t feel that way. Just this morning I was thinking about how easy it would be to sell my damn house, and if that’s not being too hasty, nothing is.
“No, Gray, that’s not… Wait a second, you want to stay in a rental when you come? You can’t do that—you have to stay here. You have to stay with me.” He narrows his eyes, glaring at me. Christ, even that’s adorable.
“It would be a long time, though. Months. Not days, like this trip. If I stayed here, it would be like we were living together.” I’m waiting for him to back down on his offer, realizing that moving in together as a couple would be vastly different than how we lived together as roommates. He only just warmed to the idea of evenbeinga couple. I don’t expect living together to be in the cards for Remy for a long, long time. Certainly not now, when his divorce is so fresh.
“Right,” he replies slowly. “Which would be fine. We’repartners.”
He places such careful emphasis on the word, I have to physically restrain myself from pulling him into a kiss. Maybe I’m creating an obstacle where there isn’t one. Maybe I should trust that he’s thought through what he wants and stop second-guessing every little thing.
“As long as you’re sure. I don’t want to rush you.”
“You know what I realized these past couple of months? Long-distance is really going to suck. Video calls are greatand all, but we’re going to miss out onsomuch—all the little things that couples take for granted when they live in the same postal code. I’m not going to be able to use you for body heat when I get cold at night or smell you on my clothes. I won’t be able to kiss you in the morning and taste your nasty-ass morning breath. God, Gray, it’s going to beawful.”