Less than Perfect

Epilogue {part three}

"Skye." Jules pressed a finger against her lips, shushing her, as his body shook with slight laughter. "I was only kidding. I know where you stand, and I respect that about you—admire it, even. So there's really no rush." He pressed a soft, gentle kiss against her forehead. "I love you. And I want to spend every moment I can with you, cherishing the time spent. Without rush."

She thought about this for a moment. They'd never really talked about where they stood in terms of the subject of sleeping together sleeping together, especially after everything Johnny had done to her, but she'd always made it clear that she wanted to wait, wait until she was ready. But now, flustered and all "hot and bothered", as Rachel would say, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe she was ready now. If maybe, under the circumstances, it could be the perfect time to intimately share a night together, uninterrupted.

"But what if I really did want to sleep with you, tonight?" she whispered, nearly out of breath from the meaning of her words. "What if I told you I didn't want to wait anymore?" With her pulse racing, heart pounding, head spinning, she reached up and wrapped her trembling hands around his neck, pulling his face even closer to hers. "What if I did this?"

Hoping to convince him to trust her and follow her lead, she pressed up against him, pushing him into the wall behind them, and crushed her lips against his, seeking entrance. Her hands traveled down his chest then, all the way down to the bottom of his shirt where she slid her hand underneath it, teasing the skin beneath.

He groaned, and grabbed her wrists gently but firmly, forcing her hands away. "Wait," he said around a kiss, voice husky, "are you sure? You really want to do that, Skye?" In a flash, before she could say anything else, he turned them around so that she was now pinned between him and the wall, and pressed their foreheads together, his hand reaching up to touch her cheek. "I don't want you to do something you don't want to."

She made a face at him. "I want to, Jules," she told him, struggling to keep her restless spirit under control. "I want to be with you like that. I need to."

"I don't—"

"You think too much," she murmured sweetly, and kissed him again. "Just give in for once, Jules. You don't always have to be responsible for everything." With her temperature rising and her breath catching, she pushed her small hands against him, pushed with all of the strength she had. "Please, baby, just trust me. Trust me."

He hesitated a moment before scooping her into his arms, carrying her down the hall, into the master bedroom, and dropping her onto the bed, following suit and climbing in. No words were exchanged as he laid her down beneath him, pressed his lips against her forehead, her nose, her mouth, all the way down to her neck, where he carefully nipped at the sensitive skin.

Skye moaned, clutching the bedding tightly into fists, and let him explore her carefully, taking his time, tenderly kissing her skin. She could feel herself getting more and more restless with each kiss, though, and before long she was fumbling to pull his shirt over his head, wanting so badly to feel his smooth, warm skin against hers.

Jules pulled away a little, helping her yank the shirt over his head, and tossed it to the side when they finished. When he looked at her briefly, a smile spread across his face, she caught a glimpse of the glossiness in his eyes, the desire that was now so evident in those eyes, and couldn't suppress the giggles that trembled from her lips. Electric bursts of heat spread throughout her body with each touch, leaving her riveted and desperate for more, and she couldn't help but whimper a little every time he explored a new part of her. His touch, no matter how familiar, always seemed so foreign, so scary, and yet so exhilarating.

He kept asking her if he was hurting her, even though he couldn't have been gentler, and asking her if she was sure about this, if he should continue, to which she'd kiss him and assure him everything was perfect. Everything was better than she'd imagined it to be—every kiss, every touch, so tender, so full of love, it was impossible to think any of it was anything less than perfect.

But after a few minutes, entangled in each other's embrace, half of their clothing discarded haphazardly around the room, kissing and whispering sweet little nothing's in each other's ears as they shared more of themselves than they ever had, Jules began pulling away.

"Wait," he said, voice low, "stop." Bracing his hands on the sides of her head, with his chest heaving and heart racing, he looked at her, really looked at her, reaching deep within her soul. She froze, hands gripping his shoulders. "We should stop."

She stared at him. "What?"

"We should stop," he repeated slowly, catching his breath. "You're not ready. And even if you are—or you think you are—now's not the time. It just doesn't feel right."

Frowning, she dropped her hands, let him go. "But it does feel right," she argued weakly, also catching her breath, "it feels perfect."

"Okay." He shook his head. "Maybe it does feel right. But the timing just seems a little off, like we should wait. I mean—don't get me wrong, Skye; I want to do this with you. But I just think that—because it's such a big step, one you can never undo—maybe we should wait. It doesn't have to change anything."

With her pulse ringing loudly in her ears, Skye lay there, unmoving, trying to work together her own thoughts and desires. She knew she'd wanted to be with him like that, so intimately (still did), but after hearing him talk about how it could be better if they waited, she started to believe it. Maybe it had all felt right—amazing even—in the moment, but now that she was thinking clearly again, about what she truly wanted, truly needed, it didn't seem as right. In fact, if she was being honest with herself, she'd even admit that maybe she wasn't ready . . . maybe waiting was the only way to go. At least until she was ready.

Like Jules had said before: there was no rush. No pressure.

Time was on their side now, their friend, and there was really no reason for them to rush into things just because of burning desires and emotions—their love for each other was truly all that mattered in the end.

"Okay," Skye said now, tracing his jaw line with her finger, "let's wait. I'm fine with that."

"Are you sure?"

She smiled at him. "Positive."

After that, he relaxed, face lighting up as he collapsed beside her on the bed, and wrapped her in his protective arms. "I really do love you, Skye," he said softly, tenderly, running a hand through her tousled hair. "I love you so, so much."

"I know," she said, and tipped her head so that she could see his face. "And I love you. So, so much more."

He grinned. "Right."

"Right," she echoed, kissing his soft, swollen lips. "I love you more."

He pulled her tighter against him, kissed the top of her head. "You're so ridiculous," he whispered. "Just so ridiculous."

She giggled a little before, suddenly overcome with the realization of just how exhausted and tired she truly was, she mumbled a quick "goodnight", and drifted off into a warm, undisturbed haze of sleep. Sleep with beautiful, wonderful dreams.