Page 81 of From That Moment

I still wasn’t quite sure how I’d gotten here. A lazy Sunday afternoon while getting all of my housework stuff doneandgetting prepared for the next day at work. Yet I wouldn’t be doing it alone. Prior was on his way over, and he was even going to use his key to get into the house.

My boyfriend—yes, a title and label and everything—was coming over to my house, using his key to get inside, and we were going to make dinner, plan for the week, and probably fuck hard on my counter.

Or maybe the couch.

Or perhaps both places. But either way, we were going to fuck loudly, and I was excited about that.

And, honestly, it wasn’t only fucking. We made love.

Something I had always giggled about and said that I was doing to pastries like earlier rather than someone I cared for.

Somebody I loved.

I loved Prior Brady.

Today, I was going to tell him.

Somehow, in this mess of who I was, this complicated array of finding a relationship, I had fallen in love with somebody.

And while I hoped to hell that he loved me too, I would understand if he needed more time. Honestly, I didn’t know what a respectable amount of time for someone to fall in love was. I had never done the math on it before, nor did I know if there was even any math to do.

Either way, I had to fess up to my feelings and hope that he didn’t run away.

Or say: “I care about you,” or “I like you,” “I respect you.” Or…“I need more time.”

And hopefully, there wouldn’t be a Prior-shaped hole in the door.

Most people probably would have been able to say those three words that meant so much in the heat of the moment.

Not me.

I needed time. I needed the perfect time. Well, perhaps not perfect. But enough time where I could work through what I needed to say and not have it come out in a garbled mess.

It was probably still going to come out that way. At least I had rehearsed some of it and had gone through and untangled as much of my feelings as possible.

I didn’t want it to only be lust or infatuation. I didn’t want it to be the excitement of having somebody I could rely on and see myself with.

I’d already been through so much with him, and I didn’t want to mess things up by moving to this next step too quickly.

We already had each other’s keys. That meant something, didn’t it?

And not just ease of access.

I winced, cleaned off my counter, sanitizing as much as I could and thinking about exactly what we had done on the kitchen floor the day before.

I hummed to myself, grinning.

I was pretty sure my knees were a bit bruised, and so was his back. But it had been worth it.

I could not wait to do it again. Maybe this time in a comfy bed. After all, I had memory foam, and it cradled my muscles and joints perfectly. It was probably better for us to have scorching, dirty sex there where we could protect ourselves so we could keep doing it again.

I laughed at myself, humming a tune as I went about cleaning the rest of the house, waiting for Prior to get here while enjoying my time alone.

The sound of glass breaking echoed in my ears, and I blinked, wondering if something had fallen. I’d cleaned out my vases, so maybe that was it. I didn’t think so, though.

And then a shadow covered me, and a hand clamped over my mouth.

I screamed, thrashing. Arms became a vise around my middle, the hand around my mouth tightening. I struggled, trying to get free. I couldn’t. Whoever had me tightened their hold, pulling and tugging. I tried to scream, attempted to get away. They dragged me out of the kitchen and towards the living room. I kicked, moving around, trying to figure out who it was.