Maybe Maby Read online

  I still haven’t found my voice after all that just happened, so I wave too, and we get out of there.

  WE RUN ACROSS the grass to the barn and when the door shuts behind us, I try to look away, but my gaze keeps shifting to him. He hasn’t stopped staring at me.

  “I never wanted to carry a tall girl anywhere. With you, I just want to hoist you over my shoulder and carry you around all day like a pet,” he says, leaning against the door. “Just something to consider.” He shrugs and looks upstairs.

  I try to stay serious, but can’t keep a straight face. I also can’t keep my hands off of him for another second.

  “Coen?” I walk toward him and put my hands on his chest before backing away slowly. “Race you to bed?”

  I take off running with him not far behind. When we reach the stairs, he swoops me up, takes the stairs two at a time, and tosses me on the bed. He stares down at me.

  “Now what?” he asks.

  “Let’s not sleep with our clothes on tonight.”

  His shirt is over his head with one yank from the back. I lean up on my elbows to watch.

  “Your turn,” he says.

  “Your pants are still on.”

  He unbuttons them slowly and takes his sweet time pulling them down. His thumb loops under the waistband of his boxer briefs and my mouth waters waiting for him to take them off. He says something, but I don’t hear any of it.

  “What?” I ask.

  “I said—are you sure?” He puts his hand over his mouth and looks at me, his eyes narrowing. After a long pause, he says, without conceit: “When we make love, it’s gonna change things. I want to know if you’re ready for that before we do.”

  I move until I’m on my knees in front of him. “Things have already changed for me, Coen. I’m ready … if you are.”

  He grins and pulls my dress over my head. “Haven’t you been hearing me? I’ve been ready for you for a long time, Maby Armstrong.”

  His hands travel down my chest and he unhooks my bra, sucking in a breath when it falls to the ground. He smiles at my yellow thong with black skulls.

  “You’re so edgy,” he smirks, getting on his knees while he pulls them off. He looks up at me. “I plan to spend a lot of time in this general vicinity.” He waves his hand over the area from my lips to my thighs. “And especially here,” he whispers, pulling me into his mouth.

  I hold onto his hair for dear life. I nearly fall back on the bed, but his hands are gripped on both cheeks, keeping my buns of nothing close to steel in place.

  His tongue. Ohhh. It works miracles. He licks side to side in deliberate strokes and then in and out, screwing me with his mouth. I can’t take it. I fall off the edge within minutes and he stands up and lays me back, just barely giving me a break before coming back for more.

  I’m not a screamer, but I give it a good go when he gets both his fingers and tongue involved. My whole body feels like lead when he peeks up at me. I lift my head up and smile dreamily at him.

  “How do you do that?” I ask groggily. “You’re like a professional…”

  He laughs and gives me one more lick before kissing his way up my body.

  “You’re delicious,” he says.

  I groan, still not entirely comfortable with the thought that I’d be delicious. I tug on his briefs and pull them down. He’s kissing my neck so I don’t even get to look yet, but when he presses against my stomach, my eyes close in anticipation.

  We haven’t talked about birth control and all that, but we can work all that out later, I think, as he slides on a condom. I’ve been meaning to get on the Pill anyway. I put it on my mental checklist, patting myself on the back with how calmly I’m handling everything.

  When he presses inside me, my breath hitches. We stare at each other as he inches in all the way.

  I gasp.

  “Too soon?” he asks, leaning his forehead on mine.

  “Noooo,” I moan. “Fuck.” I arch my back and then just stay still for a minute, loving the way I feel completely full.

  He twitches inside me when I say that and his eyes squeeze shut. He’s still for another minute and then takes a breath.

  “Turns out you saying ‘fuck’ is directly linked with my dick. Don’t say it again unless you’re ready for this to be over.”

  I giggle, tempted to say it again just in case he’s right. He starts to move then and at first I just take it in, wanting this feeling to last forever. He’s barely in me and I come again, which is just shameful, but honestly, it’s that good.

  Now he’s cocky, grinning and thrusting and watching me writhe.

  I shift my legs so they’re on his shoulders and his eyebrows go up.

  “Flexible,” he whispers.

  Maybe the running and yoga are paying off. I match him thrust for thrust and his eyes glaze over.

  “I—knew—it—would be—fucking intense—with you,” he says, moving just a little faster. His eyes never leave mine.

  “Oh, so you can say it and I can’t…”

  “You’re talking—too well. I must not—be—doing—something—right.”

  He pulls out and I try to clutch him back to me, but he takes his time going in slowly again. He does it over and over, in and out, going a little further in each time, until my whole body is shaking for him. When he finally goes in as far as he can go, we both moan. I wrap my legs around him and try to inhale him in even more.

  When we move now, it’s frenzied. I can’t stop and neither can he. His hands go underneath me to pull me up even tighter to him and I lose it.

  “Coen,” I whimper. “Please … ohhh…”

  Bliss.

  AN HOUR LATER, I’m on top. I’m 28 and I’ve never been on top. It’s a whole new world up here. His hands are on my breasts and he looks like an angel smiling up at me. I rotate my hips on him and he groans.

  “This—this is the best night of my life.”

  I lean down and kiss him. “You always say that.”

  “I always mean it.”

  IT’S MIDNIGHT AND we decide to take a shower. It’s a little small in there, so we hurry and get back to bed. I’m getting drowsy, but he runs his hands down my legs and my insides liquify.

  We face each other and he tentatively pushes inside me. I think we’re both a little sore from the last vigorous session, but it just feels too wonderful to stop.

  “I want to live in you,” he says, touching my lips with his fingers.

  “Okay.”

  “That was easy. I thought it’d take some convincing.”

  “I’m realizing you have some pretty great ideas.” I kiss him and he flips me onto my back.

  We go at it long and hard. Until I can’t move. He stays on top of me for a long time and when he finally crawls off, we both fall asleep. Later I get up to go to the bathroom and something falls down my leg. And then drips, actually. I bend down and it’s the condom.

  “Shit!” I run to the bathroom and it’s not good. I’m a mess. “Shit, shit, shit.”

  “What?” Coen asks from the bedroom, groggy.

  “The condom!”

  “What? Oh fuck! I fell asleep…”

  I clean up and he’s standing outside the bathroom door when I walk out.

  “I’m so sorry, Maby. I … I can’t believe I did that.”

  I stare at him, panicked.

  “It’s gonna be fine. Come on, let’s get some sleep.” He takes my hand and leads me back to bed.

  I feel shaky and he strokes my back softly until I fall asleep.

  I’M AWAKE WHEN Coen stirs the next morning. I’ve slept some, but I’ve also been worrying throughout the night.

  “You okay?” he asks, pulling me close.

  “I’m trying not to think about it. I’m gonna get on the Pill this week,” I tell him. “I should have done that a long time ago.”

  “Please don’t worry. I’m so sorry I fell asleep. I promise I’ll be more—”

  “I can’t get pregnant, Coen. I can’t. It just
…”

  “It’s highly unlikely that you’d get pregnant from this … don’t you think?”

  “It’s totally possible. I Googled it.”

  He smooths the crease between my eyebrows. “Listen. It will all be okay. Besides, I wouldn’t mind having a baby with you,” he says with a grin.

  I push him away.

  “Too soon to joke about it?” he asks, patting my hip and pulling me back against him. “Come on, put it out of your mind. I’ll be more careful. You’ll get on the Pill. I’ll convince you to have my baby later…”

  “Coen!” I swat him, but I’m laughing now.

  “Come here. I’ll put on two this time, so I can screw you senseless and have backup.”

  “How can you even think of sex when we’re talking about this?” I scowl at him.

  “Oh, I can.” He goes under the covers and proves it.

  LATER I WATCH him getting dressed and am shocked at the heat that sweeps through my body. I can’t seem to get enough of him and am not used to that feeling. Even though I’ve had the urge to do every obsessive thing I can think of, after our last couple of rounds and my shower, I feel an inexplicable calm. My neuroticism seems to be quelled for the time being by the best sex I’ve ever had. It wasn’t just a one time fluke either; every time has been better than the last, which doesn’t even seem possible. The first time was life changing in itself. In my old life, thinking about that one time would have kept me going for a solid week and a half.

  I look at him and wonder why in the world he wants to be with someone like me. He could have anyone and there is no question in my mind that any girl he’s ever kissed or had sex with is now lost without him.

  And if I were to ever, ever in my life, EVER have a baby, I can’t imagine anyone better to be my child’s father. The possibility of making a family with him makes my heart twitch in ways I can’t let myself think about, and well, I’m jumping ahead of myself.

  He buttons his shirt last and I sigh when his chest is fully covered.

  “What are you thinking about over there? Are you still stressed?” he asks.

  “I feel really lucky,” I tell him, “and like I want to keep the blinders over your eyes for as long as I possibly can.”

  He scrunches his eyebrows together. “What do you mean?”

  “I—oh, nothing.” I stop the crazy talk and smile. “Do you think everyone knows?”

  We’ve missed breakfast and lunch and are trying to make it to dinner on time.

  “For all they know we went hiking all day.”

  I snort. “Yeah, right.”

  He walks over to me and kisses my neck. “You look beautiful. Not nearly as good as you look naked, but really close.”

  “You’re just changing the subject.”

  THEY’RE JUST PUTTING everything on the table when we walk in. Scott does a double take when he sees Coen and gives him a hearty slap on the back. We both turn red.

  “Co-en is glow-in,” Jade sings as she walks by.

  He flicks her.

  “Oh shoot, I forgot the peppers. Coen, could you slice some really quick? Everyone else has their hands full.” Janie smiles at me and then she turns pink.

  Jade smirks and lifts an eyebrow.

  Yep, everyone knows.

  There’s a little pile of all kinds of peppers. I grab a knife alongside Coen and we start chopping.

  “What are these?” I show Coen a pepper.

  “Habanero. And these are serrano … both really hot.”

  “Can’t wait to try some. You eat it on everything or just the tacos?”

  “I like it on everything,” he says, carrying the bowl of peppers to the table.

  Conversation is a little awkward in the beginning, but it gets easier as we start eating. I pile the peppers on and dig in like I haven’t eaten in weeks. Janie is such a great cook.

  Three bites in and I start coughing. I gulp down my water and look around to see if the peppers are killing anyone else. They’re all acting like it’s nothing.

  “Can’t handle the heat?” Coen teases.

  “Oh, I can handle it.” I take another bite and quickly swallow more water.

  We hang out for a little bit on the front porch and then Jade convinces all of us to take a walk. I’ve never been around a family who seems to genuinely enjoy being together so much. It’s refreshing. And I’m grateful they seem to have accepted me so quickly. When we come back up to the house, Coen and I say goodnight to everyone. As soon as the door shuts behind us, he’s pulling off my clothes. I take off his pants and briefs in one fell swoop and get my hands on him.

  He yanks off my panties and slides his fingers in me within minutes.

  It’s feeling so good and then all of a sudden, something feels a little off. I ignore it and we lay back on the couch. I wrap both hands around him, loving the satiny hardness of him. He moans and leans over me. I’m feeling really weird down below. Worse and worse. I keep ignoring it.

  “I’ve missed being in you,” he whispers, grabbing a condom.

  I slide it on him and he gets inside me. We move together for a minute and suddenly I feel like I’m on fire. I yelp and he jumps up.

  “Something is wrong,” he says, wide-eyed.

  “It’s burning. I’m burning!” I jump up.

  “Oh God. Me too!” He pulls off the condom. His whole crotch area is red and getting welts. “Ahhh, you too.” He points at me and everywhere he has touched is red.

  “What’s going on?” I yell.

  His eyes get huge. “The peppers!”

  “We washed our hands!”

  “Ahhh,” he yells. “The shower.” He’s holding his hands out like they’re poison. “Come on.”

  We get in the shower and scrub our hands and everything else with soap and rinse in cool water. It doesn’t stop burning. Our bodies have giant splotches all over now. Even my breasts have welts.

  “I can’t believe this,” he says, looking at me in horror. “Oh babe, I’m so sorry. Here…” He wraps a towel around me. “We need ice.”

  We go downstairs and he fills two plastic bags with ice. We sit on the couch with the ice packs on our privates, miserable. Our hands are stuck in small bowls of ice. When I’m not getting enough relief, I slip an ice cube inside me. As soon as it dissolves, I stick in another. It helps a little, but still hurts like crazy.

  “When this stops hurting so bad, it will be really, really funny,” he says.

  I shift in my seat and wince. “It’s already kinda funny,” I say, looking at his penis poking out of the ice.

  He grins and we start laughing until we cry. He reaches up to wipe his eyes and I shout at him to stop before he spreads it there too. I startle him and he jumps, which makes us laugh all the harder.

  Later, after we’ve watched a movie and changed out the ice a few times, we head back upstairs.

  “This was not my finest moment,” he admits when we crawl into bed.

  I laugh again until I’m wheezing. “Your face when you jumped up … I’ll never forget that look!”

  He shakes his head, chuckling. “At least we learned something…”

  “What?”

  “Always wear gloves when cutting peppers,” he says.

  “Like I’ll ever eat peppers again…”

  THE NEXT DAY we’re feeling much better. The welts are gone. We have sex in the shower and thankfully, our lower regions are fully functioning.

  I go to the nursery to watch Janie and Scott in action. When I stop in the shop, I’m shocked to see that half of Coen’s terrariums sold over the weekend. He blows it off like it’s no big deal but then says selling the terrariums has given him more of an income than his full time job at La Colombe.

  A tall girl with long black hair is working in the shop. She seems very happy to see Coen. Not so happy to see me. He introduces us. Jess.

  He’s less touchy-feely in the shop than he has been all weekend and seems relieved when we get back to the nursery. I get a sinking feeling
in the pit of my stomach. I ask him later if that’s the Jess he dated. He says yes and doesn’t elaborate.

  I thought if I had to worry about anyone it was Katy, the one he was more serious about, but … Jess. We see her one more time as we’re getting ready to leave. Scott, Janie and Jade are hugging us goodbye and Jess comes and stands by Jade, putting her arm around Jade’s waist. They seem a little surprised that she’s hanging around, but are obviously comfortable around her. Even her name fits right in. J, J, J—jealous, jerk-off, jackal.

  I thank the Bradys for a great weekend. They tell me to hurry back—come back every time Coen does if I want, I’m always welcome. Jess doesn’t say a word. She just gives me this little mysterious smirk that makes my stomach gnaw itself inside out.

  I’m quiet when we leave. Coen is chatting about his schedule this week and I can’t stay focused on what he’s saying. My stomach is queasy and for the first time since we left for the weekend, I’m anxious to get home.

  Traffic isn’t as bad going home as it was getting out of town, so we get to my apartment in less than an hour.

  Coen pulls up and says, “What do you feel like? You ready to get rid of me yet?”

  I look at him and kiss his cheek. “Thank you for the most remarkable weekend I’ve ever had. I’ll never forget it.”

  He scrunches up his face as he grins. “I plan to have many, many more with you, Maby Armstrong.”

  I hop out and grab my bag. It’s then that Coen looks unsure of himself. I hate that I’m making him feel that way, but I know that I’m shutting down fast.

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” I ask.

  “Uh, sure. Okay,” he says.

  He looks wounded and it makes my heart hurt.

  My phone is still sitting between our seats and it buzzes when I reach across to hug him one more time. He sees my phone before I do. I can tell who it is by the way Coen’s arms drop. He bites his lip and starts nodding his head awkwardly. He taps the steering wheel with his fist.

  “Okay,” he says. “Oh-kay.”