We don't make it far inside the front door before Tom pulls me into his arms. I'm all too aware of us. Our bodies. The way we fit together. The way he smells, the way he tastes, the noises he makes as I kiss him. It is overwhelming, a luscious, delicious attack on all my senses.
"Are you sure?" He asks softly, his mouth near to mine, I can feel his breath on my lips. He seems tense, and I can practically hear his thoughts racing, waiting for me to answer. I answer with a kiss and then a nod, grabbing onto his arms and squeezing.
"Are you sure?" I hold my breath as I return the question, because suddenly we both seem to realize what I mean. That perhaps, he has more to lose. That I'm far from a perfect person, in the midst of chaos and change, and his life is already complicated enough. Neither of us knows what this will mean. How this could change things.
"The first time I saw you...you scared me to death." He answers after a beat, and we both laugh quietly, remembering that terrible meeting on Sam and Rachel's deck. I shake my head, softly laughing as I bury my face briefly in his chest. Tom pulls back, reaching for me as he gently tips my face up, toward him.
"You still scare me to death, Billie." He swallows, and I watch the muscles in his neck work, the serious line of his mouth. My heart is racing in my chest, and I know what he means because I feel the same way.
"I've purposefully shut myself off. For years now." He's speaking low, his voice barely above a whisper but it permeates deep into my bones. "But I can't, for the life of me, stay away from you." His words make my heart skip, and I push onto my tip toes, covering his mouth with mine.
"Don't then. Please, don't." I whisper, breathless as we come together. Tom gathers me in his arms, holding me tight, nearly pressing the air from my lungs. The last time this happened, we were interrupted. And I can't let that happen this time.
"Gemma. Where's Gems?" I manage to whisper as Tom starts slipping his warm, big hands underneath my shirt. He nuzzles his face into my neck, and I feel delirious, as if I'm drunk or high.
"At Rosie's." He murmurs and I relax, knowing that we won't be interrupted, and relieved that my morals aren't about to be questioned by an adorable five year old. He chuckles softly, as if he is reading my mind and we are sharing the same thoughts.
It feels like some sort of dream, and I have to force myself to stay present. To stay in the moment, instead of hazily floating above, watching like some sort of lustful ghost. It is hazy, slow, like being pulled into consciousness one sense at a time. I am desperate for him, and I fear for my own sanity if I can't have him. I'm delirious, greedy, hungry.
First, there was the way he feels. Hard, solid, warm skin under my hands. So much bare skin. He gathers me in his arms as he shuts the door behind us, pressing me against the cool wooden door. He presses his chest and hips against mine in one slow, smooth movement and I wrap my arms around his neck and wide shoulders, pulling him closer. My shirt is gone within moments, and the skin to skin contact is intoxicating.
Then, there is his smell. The smell of his skin. Like ocean, and sand, and sweat. A musk that is only him. Clean, sweet, and heady. I breathe him in, greedy gasps as he kisses my neck, his hands at my waist, then spanning my back. His head dips down as he kisses my collarbone and then moves on to my breasts. He cups me over my bra, his thumbs rubbing through the delicate fabric, hardening my nipples into tight points, making me come apart. I push my hands through his soft, slightly curling hair. My knees weaken as he pushes down the cups of my bra, his mouth closing over my nipple. At the same time, his hands go to the button of my shorts and he pulls them open, then tugs them down over my hips.
Last, there is the way he keeps saying my name. Over and over. Soft, louder, growls and then sweet whispers.
"Billie. Billie."
I feel myself shiver all over, reacting without any control over it. I have never been with a man who called me by my name. It has always been 'Baby'. Baby, baby, baby. Me, and also any generic pretty face and warm, willing body. But I am not just "Baby" to Tom. I'm Billie. And it's like he doesn't want me to forget that.
"Tom, please. Bed." I gasp softly, as Tom grabs me by the hips, and hoists me up. I want to be in his bed, surrounded by the smell of him, tangled in sheets and wrapped up in him. He carries me through the house, down the short hallway and into his room. There's a lamp lit on his nightstand, but other than that, it is dark. Grinning, he drops me onto his bed with a soft laugh.
I bounce for a second, falling back with a giggle. I slide backwards, across his already messy bed, leaning back on my arms and slowly sliding my legs open, inviting him in. Tom stands before me, his eyes dark, his expression heavy and somehow hungry. I can see how turned on he is, obvious by the front of his boxer briefs. He is all tall, lean muscle and strong, sinewy lines. He stands there, still, watching me for a few seconds, until I am practically humming, impatient and wiggling under her steady gaze. I reach behind me, slowly, and unclasp my bra. I let the straps slide down my arms, and then I slowly sit up straight, letting it fall from me. Tom licks his lips, and I see his hands move at his sides, fingers spread and then clench into tight balls at his sides.
"You are bloody gorgeous." He blinks, and a slow smile starts at the corners of his mouth. I blush, despite myself.
"You must hear that all the time." He adds, suddenly sounding a bit disappointed. As if he wishes he could say more. I sit up, scoot back toward him, up to the edge of the bed and I reach forward, taking his hands. My thighs bump his legs, and he steps forward, so he's right in front of me. I press my face into his stomach, kissing his flat abs, the soft skin of his lean hips.
"Not like that, I don't." I say softly. Tom leans down, cupping my face in his hands, and kisses me, deeply and gently. My hands go to his waist, then to the front of his boxers, wrapping my hands around him through the thin fabric. He groans against my mouth and then pushes me back onto the bed as he climbs over me.
Tom covers my body with his, coming down on me soft and hard at the same time, heavy and strong. I wrap my legs around him, tangling my legs with his, trying to touch as much of him at once as I can. He cradles me in his arms, slipping his hands under my head, burying his face in my neck as he kisses and licks me, wildly and then slow and softly. I strain underneath him. The pleasure is almost painful. I both want to push him far, far away, and closer, closer, closer than anyone else has ever been.
I arch underneath him, pressing myself against his chest. His hand covers one of my breasts, cupping it as his fingers gently pull against my nipple. His head dips down, and I feel his mouth close over me, his tongue wet and teasing. His teeth scrape against my skin and I gasp and close my eyes, squeezing my legs around him. He stills after a moment, leaving both of us panting.
"I don't normally go over to Rosie's until 8 or 9 in the morning to make breakfast." He says, and a slow, calculating smile forms on his lips. I stare at his mouth for a second, wanting badly to kiss him, to bite his slightly fuller lower lip.
"Oh?" I reply, reaching between us as I try to push his boxers down and out of the way.
"That means..." He grabs my hands suddenly, and pushes them above my head, pinning me against the bed. I smile, squirming under his grasp.
"That means we have all night." He gets up onto all fours, hovering over me as he begins making an achingly slow path down my chest and stomach, lower, lower, lower.
"Oh..." I breathe, not sure what else to say. Unable to really think.
"I'm going to take my time then." He grabs my hips and then dips his head low, pushing my panties to the side with one clever hand, and the help of his tongue.
I groan, gasping as I try not to smother him with my thighs, which are clenching around his shoulders and head as pleasure races through me. I close my eyes, giving into the desire, the exhilarating yearning that has taken over.
And he's good on his word. So very good. He takes his time, and then some, and we don't stop until it is light out, the first hints of morning creeping in through the edges of the curtains. And even after that, in the quiet, sated silence, we keep touching, our bodies intertwined, as if we know it is too good to take for granted, and we don't want to awake from this to find it's all been some hazy, sumptuous dream.
****
Tom has his head on my thigh, the blankets are tangled around us both. We are sprawled across his bed, both in various stages of sleep. It's nearing 9, and neither of us have moved. We've gotten just a few hours of sleep, and though I know he's usually up early for his run, he's made no effort to move.
"Tom." I say softly, reaching down and running my hands through his hair, over his temples, down his jawline. He groans softly, and presses his face into my leg, kissing me briefly, but not opening his eyes.
"It's nearly 9." I swallow, closing my eyes as I keep stroking his hair. He moves then, but only so he's lying next to me, plopping down heavily on the pillows as he grabs me sloppily, pulling me against his chest. He's warm and solid and I snuggle back against him, as if trying to find out just how close we can get. He groans into my shoulder and kisses me there.
"I called Rosie. I told her I was running late. Twenty minutes." He breathes heavily and I feel his hand splay across my stomach. I arch my back, pushing my butt against him. He breathes a bit heavier.
"I should get going then?" I ask, teasing. I don't want to go. I could easily stay here, all day with him. But I don't know how this is going to work.
Tom opens his eyes then, clear and blue, piercing in the morning light.
"It's up to you." He says. The silence between us is heavy for a moment.
"What's going on with work?" He asks after a minute, the million dollar question that's been hanging over us since last night. He gently moves away, guiding me back so we can see each other. He reaches up and pushes the hair from my face, cupping the side of my jaw for a second before running a finger down the slope of my nose. I take a deep breath, launching into my explanation.
"I told Shorty I would release my own statement. That I won't apologize for being violated by someone I trusted. It's going out on the website any minute now. And I'm..." I breathe. "I'm not renewing my contract with my label." I say, watching his expression as I speak. It had been a big decision. Huge. Shorty had not been happy, at all. We'd screamed at each other on the way to the airport. Our working relationship—something that had lasted over ten years, was suddenly being tested. It wasn't that I didn't want Shorty as my manager anymore, it was that I didn't want to keep going in the same direction. I didn't want to play huge arenas and stadiums. I didn't want to be sold as some commodity. Shorty couldn't see or understand why.
Tom nods, his eyes move to my face and then away. I don't know what he's thinking, and it surprises me how much I care.
"It was your choice, your decision, Billie. But I think you made the right one." He wraps an arm around my bare waist and tugs me close to him. I feel my chest swell, and relief makes me feel light headed. Breaking away from the label and making that statement are two things that I don't know I would have been able to do a year ago, or even six months ago. Definitely not when everything had first happened. It would mean losing the possibility of a lot of money, many connections and opportunities.
But the thing was, was that I didn't need anymore money. Money is the least of my problems. And with the money rolling in from the video, I barely want anything to do with all of it anymore.
"Thank you for saying that. Really. A lot of people are angry with me right now." I hear my voice catch and I take a deep breath. Tom runs a steady hand up my side and then down over my hip.
"Fuck 'em, you know? Sometimes you have to make choices that won't please everyone. You need to take care of yourself, Billie." He says softly. I nod and brush away the tears I feel at the corner of my eyes. I look at him, giving him a quick, watery smile.
"My career is definitely going to change." I say with a shaky laugh. He nods and shrugs.
"For the better, yeah?" He gives me a reassuring look—a half smile, his eyes kind and compassionate. It nearly makes my heart want to push from my chest. I nod.
"I hope." I manage. I don't really care about my career at the moment. All I can truly think about is this man beside me. The way it feels to have him hold me like this. The way he's accepted me, faults and imperfections.
"What are you up to tonight? Maybe we could go see a movie—you, me and Gems. Rosie too if she'd like." I change the subject, not wanting to turn into a total sap and say something that I haven't even quite worked out. Tom is quiet for a moment, his eyes serious on my face, but then he smiles, looking a bit regretful.
"I've got to work at the Bar." He says matter of factly. This is his life. Work. Gemma. Work. Gemma. Repeat. He doesn't complain about it, though I know it must wear on him.
"But what are you doing right now?" He starts to sit up, untangling our arms and legs from each other. Leaving a Tom shaped hole next to me. "You can come with me to Rosie's, if you'd like. I'll make pancakes. And Gems would love to see you. We could go to the beach after. But you don't have to." He reaches over, brushing hair off my face, tucking it behind my ear. I swallow, pressing my lips together as I study his face. The smooth skin on his cheeks, the slight stubble on his jaw and around his mouth. The culprit for the irritated pink marks on my thighs and chest this morning. His nose is straight and thin, his eyes blue like the ocean outside. There are tiny laugh lines in the corners, lines that stay there even when he isn't smiling. I could wake up to this face every day. I wouldn't mind it at all.
"I'd love to come to Rosie's." I manage after a second. He smiles then, a wide, bright smile, and then he settles back next to me, filling the void beside me.
"Good. Then we've got just enough time..." He trails off as I break into a fit of giggles, overcome with happiness, and ease and a rather healthy dose of lust.
"