Z’s touch is unpracticed. Eager. He’s doing his best, but it’s not?—
Stop. Stop comparing. Just be here.
I close my eyes.
Mistake.
Because with my eyes closed, I can nearly imagine Caleb’s breath hot against my neck.
“Look at me,” Z says, and I snap my eyes open to find him staring down at me with devastating intensity. “Stay with me, Harp. Be here. With me.”
He knows. Somehow he fucking knows where my head went.
“I’m here,” I whisper.
He positions himself and pushes inside in one smooth motion, and I gasp.
I wasn’t fully wet yet. It doesn’t hurt a lot, but it hurts a little.
And it’s so freaking weird—Z’s cock is inside me.
I’m having sex with Z.
I shift out of instinct, trying to relax. It doesn’t help much, and it hurts when he pulls out, too. Jesus fuck.
Everything about this isdifferentfrom the handful of times Caleb and I?—
“You okay?” Z freezes, searching my face.
“Yeah. Just been a while.” True enough. Three months, apparently. What was it like that first night between us?Apparently, I should have gotten wasted before trying this again. But damn it, I can’t now that there’s a fetus.
Z starts to move, slow and careful, watching my face.
The pain eases as my body does its thing to provide a little lubrication. But there’s a strange disconnect, like I’m floating above my body watching some other girl have sex with her childhood best friend.
I try to be present. I try to arch into him and make the right sounds and touch him the way a girlfriend should.
But my body is just going through the motions.
Z speeds up, chasing his own release, and I wrap my legs around him like I’m supposed to. I let him bury his face in my neck as his breathing gets haggard against my skin.
When he comes, he moans my name like a prayer. “Harper.Fuck, Harper.”
I hold him through it, massaging my hands down his back.
Playing the part.
He collapses on top of me, breathing hard, and for a long moment we just lie there in the sticky heat of the July afternoon.
“That was…” he starts.
“Yeah,” I cut him off again.
I don’t want to hear him say it was amazing or perfect or whatever lie men tell themselves after mediocre sex.
He rolls off me, immediately pulling me against his sweaty side. His arm comes around my shoulders, holding me close.
“I’m gonna hit the shower,” he says after a minute with a quick kiss against my temple.