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Ansel laughs against my skin and I realize I’ve said this out loud Irritation washes over me like a heated blush and I pull away, humiliated Vulnerable

"No," he whispers "No, no Viens par ici" Co and his soft pleading noises until finally he pulls ers pressed into ive hi hi everywhere--alonghypersensitive and overheated But the sensitivity is nearly unbearable where he’s licking ood, it’s nearly impossible that I can be this close, so soon

so soon

so fking soon

but I aers white-knuckling the headboard, and I’ so hard into his e beneath e for a second until ainst his lips

I feel ravaged and worshipped as I slip, boneless, to the bed I feel his fear and his love and his panic and finally, I let loose the sob that’s been held back in my throat for what feels like hours In a quiet rush, I knoe’re both sure of one thing: I’ed it’s barely recognizable when he asks, "Do you ever feel like your heart is twisted inside your chest, and so?"

"Yes," I whisper, closing my eyes I can’t see him like this, the sadness I’m sure I’ll see on his face

"Mia? Mia, I’m so sorry"

"I know"

"Tell er doesn’t work that way So instead of waiting forinto my neck words I don’t understand

Sloe catch our breath and his mouth finds its way to mine He kisses me forever like this--and I let him--it’s the only way I can tell hio against every instinct I have to be the one getting out of bed first, and dressing in the dark while he sleeps As quietly as I can, I pull my clothes from the dresser and dump them into my suitcase My passport is just where he said it would be--in the top drawer of the dresser--and sothe to seriously miss my fancy new face cream but I don’t think I would be able to walk away froto talk me out of this

It’s a trickle of hesitation I should listen to--e that I’m not sure this is the best idea I’ve ever had--but I don’t I barely even look over at him--still mostly clothed and sprawled out on top of the covers--while I’ room for a piece of paper and a pen

Because once I step back into the bedroo away Only now do I realize I hadn’t taken the tiht The deep blue button-down shirt--slim-cut to fit the wide stretch of his chest, the narrow dip of his waist--is unbuttoned just beneath the hollow of his throat, and ue feels thick with the need to bend down, suck on those favorite transitions of mine: neck to chest, chest to shoulder His jeans are worn and perfect, faded over tih, over the button fly He didn’t even take off his favorite brown belt before falling asleep--it’s just hanging open, his pants unbuttoned and slung low on his hips--and suddenly ers itch to pull the leather free of the loops, to see and touch and taste his skin just one more time

I probably can’t, but it feels like I can see the trip of his pulse in his throat, iue I kno his sleepy hands would weave into my hair as I worked his boxers down his hips I even know the desperate relief I would see in his eyes if I woke hioodbye, but to ive him ords No doubt true et, while he was touching me, that there was ever any distance between us at all

And now that I’ hio I s back a tight, heavy luasp, like steam under pressure, pushed fro me over and over until I want to punch it back

I’, painful seconds for me to pull my eyes away from where he lies and down to the pen and paper in my hands

What the hell aoodbye, most likely If I know hie felt last night--he won’t leave the rest of this to phone calls and e while he sleeps, and given the reality of his job, I ht moment for a see-you-soon note, anyway