Covers

Chapter Twelve: Perfect

I come to a startling realization as I close the door of my apartment, shutting the both of us in the same room.

I have no idea how to do this.

I don't know how to suggest sex in a way that won't make me die of bloodrush to my cheeks, but I refuse to entertain the idea of trying to initiate anything without words. I need words. I need consent. Even if he was smiling at me as he removed his own clothes, I would need to hear that "yes".

"Audrey?" Evan asks. I realize I've been standing in place for too long, just facing my door. "Everything okay?"

I take a deep breath and turn to him. "Yeah. I just... I wanted to ask you something."

My heart pounds. The confused expression on his face is killing me. I want him so badly my stomach hurts. Or is that the nervousness?

What if he doesn't want me at all? I don't think I could blame him. I could stand to lose some weight. I have acne on my jawline. I don't know how to do my makeup the way other women our age do it, highlighting their best features.

"Whatever it is you want to ask, it's not worth... whatever you're going through right now," he says, reaching for me. I let him fold me into a hug and bury my face in his jacket. I'm starting to love the scent of the detergent he uses. It makes me feel safe.

"I... I'm having a hard time putting it into words," I say. Then I screw up my courage and look up at him. "Evan... do you want to have sex?"

The words exist in the air now. I can never take them back, no matter what his answer is. This moment could break the beautiful thing we were building.

Evan grins widely, but this is more than the smile of a man who was just propositioned for sex. He's laughing lightly. I feel it against me, echoing in my own body.

I laugh, too. It's a relief to feel him wrap me up tighter in a hug. He runs a hand along my hair, careful not to get his fingers snagged in the thick strands.

"Yes, I do. And I... I'm glad you asked." He kisses the top of my head. "You're adorable, Audrey."

"I'm not trying to be adorable," I say, making a face. "I'm trying to be... sexy."

We both laugh again. I pull back from the hug, but we hold hands, our fingers joined together.

"You are. I was waiting for you to ask me what my "type" of woman was, back at the diner. It's you, Audrey. Smart, confident, caring, considerate and not afraid to stand up for herself. And physically..." He sighs, folding me back into a hug. He leans down to press his lips to my ear. I clutch his shoulders, feeling drunk. "A beautiful Latina with a smile like the sun? No one compares. Men or women."

I kiss the corner of his jaw. His skin is soft but I feel the slightest beginnings of stubble there.

His hands press against my back. "Being asked is a huge turn-on of mine. It shows you care enough not to assume. I love it."

And here, holding him like this, our bodies pressed together, I feel the proof of his desire, firm against my stomach.

I did that to him. That's because of me.

I kiss him deeply as I reach to pull off his jacket. He responds avidly, his lips and tongue almost dancing against mine.

I've never been so turned on. It's agonizing. I need him to end my suffering. The mystery of what is about to happen thrills me like I'm continually suspended on the sudden drop of a roller coaster.

"Can I take your shirt off?" he asks, dropping my own discarded coat to the ground.

"Only if I can take yours off," I reply.