I trust him.
After a comfortable night on the couch, snuggling against each other, I walk to the kitchen to refill my wine glass.
Dex appears next to me, and he pulls me to him.
He tilts his head and his lips brush mine, tentatively at first, as if he’s gauging my response. I freeze for a moment, realizing these are the first lips to touch mine since Timmy’s. The thoughtflickers through my mind like a shadow, but it doesn’t stay. Because Dex’s lips don’t feel like Timmy’s. They don’t feel like anyone else’s. They feel like warmth and safety and desire all rolled into one.
I haven’t kissed anyone quite like this before. It’s usually a little awkward—at least at first—although I suppose it wasn’t with Timmy, either. Clearly, the quality of a first kiss isn’t a strong indicator of the value of a relationship.
But the touch of his tongue on mine sends little shivers throughout my body, generating anticipation of what’s to come. It feels natural, primal somehow. Electric, even. I hungrily explore his tongue with my own.
He starts to pull away, but I lean in, pressing my lips to his, feeling the way they mold perfectly against mine. Relief and yearning flood through me as his tongue grazes mine, and I let out a soft moan.
My hands find their way to the nape of his neck, my fingers tangling in his soft, sun-streaked locks. I pull him closer, deepening the kiss, hungry for him in a way that feels both primal and healing.
All thoughts of Timmy vanish. For the first time in what feels like forever, I’m not afraid. I’m not comparing. I’m just here, with Dex, and it’s everything.
THE NEXT DAY
“I know we could’ve taken things further last night,” Dex says, his voice low and warm. We’re sitting on the couch, the soft glow of a lamp casting shadows on his chiseled features. “I know we both wanted to. But I wanted it to be on your terms. I didn’t wantto take advantage of you in a vulnerable moment. You’ve had enough of that already. And I definitely didn’t want it to feel like a pity fuck. You’re worth so much more than that.”
His words hit me like a punch—gentle but firm, knocking the wind out of my defenses.
“I thought you didn’t like me like that,” I admit, my voice small. His lack of trying to get in my pants was beginning to bother me, making me feel like he wasn’t interested.
“Oh no,” he says, shaking his head with a soft smile. “I really, really like you. And I respect you. Sometimes that means passing up on good sex now and saving it for some mind-blowing sex later.”
I laugh, the sound bubbling out before I can stop it. “I guess I’m not used to being around people who can regulate their emotions and impulses.”
“Yeah,” he says with a grin. “We exist.”
Stacey:
You’re sure you’re ready for a relationship? This isn’t too soon?
Stacey’s message pings on my phone, her concern radiating from the screen. I can almost see her infamous side-eye as she types. She’s ever-protective of me, and I appreciate it, even when it means she asks difficult questions.
And her question is fair.
Me:
It’s not a relationship. We’re just hanging out.
Stacey:
It seems to me that you’re spending an awful lot of time together for two people who are just… hanging out. Are you in love or what?
I see she’s typing more, so I wait for her incoming message while I ponder the answer.
Stacey:
Not that I can talk, seeing as my husband and I have been together since the night we first met.
I laugh. Stacey might be opinionated, but she’s no hypocrite.
Me:
I— I wouldn’t say ‘in love’. I don’t want to put a label on it just yet.