Page 103 of Bloom

“No.”

“Then I’m not getting off of you.”

“You can’t hold me like this forever. And what did Martin mean, anyway, when he said there was always some slut leaving here? Have you had other girls here this summer?”

He smirks. “Oh, and now who’s the untrusting one?”

“Nice way to evade the question.”

“I haven’t been with anyone all summer except for you,” he says. “But let me ask you something. Let’s say I still got along really well with Allison, and we’re having some jokey call together just this afternoon and talking about seeing each other at school next weekend, and then Allison tells you I’ll be sleeping with her again by the end of the month. Wouldn’t you freak out a little? And right after that some girl walks into the bar with a pair of my boxers? Just how calm would you be in that precise moment?”

I narrow my eyes. “I’d be exceedingly calm.”

“You’re full of shit,” he says.

“Possibly,” I snap. “But you still shouldn’t have doubted me. We can’t survive three years in different cities if things already fall apart so easily.”

“And we also can’t survive if you’re going to flee every time we argue,” he counters.

“Well maybe but … ” His mouth comes down on mine, silencing my words — his tongue, his lips, all of it hard and relentless. I want to hold onto my anger but I can feel it dissipating, replaced by other things I want more. He’s still holding my wrists, and uses his teeth to raise my shirt, to pull at my nipples through the thin lace of my bra.

He moves both hands to one wrist and pulls my shorts off.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t mad anymore,” I pant.

“Irrelevant,” he says.

“I didn’t say I was going to sleep with you.”

“I don’t think I asked,” he replies. He unzips his shorts. A tremor runs through my whole body, listening to that sound, knowing what will follow it. He shoves my thong to the side and slides his fingers inside me, and I gasp against my will. “You’re soaked,” he pants.

He shoves into me, hard, and his groan is even louder than my own. His mouth comes back to mine, no longer to silence my arguments.

“You can’t just run off like that,” he grunts, pushing into me again. “We’re going to fight from time to time. Okay?”

“Yes,” I moan.

“And that had better be the last time you give some asshole your bikini again, too,” he says as he pushes into me.

“Fuck you,” I say, but it sounds more breathy than defiant.

He thrusts again. “What did you just say to me?”

“Fuck you.”

His strokes become hard and fast, almost punitive. He lets go of my wrists and grabs my ass, holding me aloft so he can push into me farther.

“Oh my god,” he groans. “I’m gonna come so hard.”

And with those words I seize up around him, too shocked by the suddenness and force of it to even think of stifling my cries, and he follows me violently.

When he finally collapses on top of me, his mouth goes to my neck, my ear, my mouth, and mine to his. “I love you, Elle,” he whispers. “I love you so much sometimes I feel like I can’t stand it, like it’s not even safe to want something so badly.”

“I love you too,” I tell him. “That’s why it hurt so much when you didn’t believe me.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, pulling back to look in my eyes. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like that. But honestly, I did believe you. I really did. I was just pissed. I was pissed that he had a piece of you, for whatever reason, and it just made me stupid and jealous. But I did believe you.”

“Okay,” I sigh. “I’m sorry we fought. We only have a few days left. I don’t want to spend them fighting.”