Page 86 of Letting Go

I do think. Hard and fast. Long time commitment: check. I could take the money from the Christmas tree sale and pay a chunk: check. Rent it out in the summer and make a bundle: check.

"Three grand a week in summer?"

"Easy," he says. "You'll have this paid off in a few years."

Okay, so what's the problem?

Then he says it again: "Don't overthink this, Chloe."

I take a deep breath, feeling like I'm jumping off the cliff in the quarry, but knowing it will be fine too.

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes. I accept. Oh, Bryce, I don’t know what to say. But how did you do this? How did you? The roof? Porch?" I stand up and look around again, gesturing to the lamps. "Electricity?"

"Turns out we have a pretty handy crew, and they were motivated," he says, and then puts his arms around me, cupping my ass with both hands. He squeezes each cheek alternately with each word: "You're too damn busy in the morning."

He's bought furniture too. Real furniture.

"This," I spread my hands. "This is too much, Bryce. But I'll pay you back."

He slides his hands up my arms to my neck, tips my head back, and slips his tongue in, pressing his lips to mine, in a strong kiss I can't pull away from.

I slide an arm around his waist and pull up his shirt in the back. His skin under my hands is smooth, warm. His latts fold and tuck over ribs and I brush fingers along the ridges until I slide a second hand to meet the first at his chest. We push apart, breathing hard. I slip my hands out from underneath and grab the zipper to his sweater and tug down. It spreads open revealing that chest and a trail of dark hair that makes a dive behind his belt. His nipples are hard. I pull the sweater down over his shoulders, all the way off, and it drops to the floor.

I smile. "You are so getting lucky tonight."

I tip my face up and he pulls me close, and then there's the softness of his lips and the warm feeling of his fingers on my throat. His hands work their way down and find my breasts under my sweater. He kisses me again, sucking in my breath, breathing me out, so in sync. Bryce pulls me even closer, bends me back, and I'm completely in his arms. He smiles, tracing my hairline with a finger.

"Here." He holds up a hand.

I slip mine into his.

"You are magic, Chloe Russo."

Bryce

She loved the bedroom and wasn't upset at all I swapped the old down mattress for a new one and an antique iron bedframe. Fresh sheets, a real dresser and nightstand, and a reading lamp filled out the little room. Two thick throw rugs warmed the floor and that thread-bare blanket her mother crocheted is now framed under glass and on the wall above the bed.

She grew teary when she saw it and kissed me. Then she laid down on the bed and let me straddle her, my weight settling on her pelvis.

"I can’t believe I've lived this long without you," she said, tracing her finger along my collarbone and then down the middle of my chest. Her hand moved down further until my breath started to get ragged and my shoulders arched back. I felt my hips lift. She cupped my balls with one hand while stroking my groin with the other.

In another minute I was spread over her, engulfing her, our bodies moving together. I tried to make a memory: the light on her throat, the sound of her heavy breathing, her smell of lemon and vanilla, the grip of her sex as I moved her, moved us, to a rhythm our bodies already knew.

Afterward, we took turns cleaning up and dozed.

Now, I spoon her while she sleeps, breathing her in, and light from the woodstove in the kitchen flickers across her shoulders. It’s warm in here, almost too warm, but I was frozen after my swim and wanted the place cozy for her. I slowly disentangle myself and climb out of bed to get a glass of water.

When I return, she stirs and pulls the sheet over and I see her toes. Perfectly straight, symmetrical, just like her fingers. I marvel at her perfect bone structure while I sit on the edge of the bed. She opens heavy-lidded eyes and lays a hand lightly on my knee. I don't know why her touch is always so electric, but it works. She slides her hand up the inside of my thigh and pulls me down with her other hand for a warm, sloppy kiss.

"Oh Bryce," she sighs as we pull apart. That's the point I feel my dick start to pound. She sighs again, opens her eyes wider, and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I think I've learned to let go," she says, and I know exactly what she means.

"At least I know the difference now," she tries to explain, struggling to sit up, her weight on her elbows and her hair tumbling down her back.