(Continuing from Part 1...)
Nick and I had a secret, and it was increasingly hard to hide. We tried. He was careful to limit our time alone, and often told me it was because he felt like he couldn't trust himself. I never pressured him. When he did swing by my house, we kept it completely and totally G rated. We argued about politics or shared new music we'd discovered or commiserated about colleagues.
But the fact of the matter is that we craved each other on a deep, primal level. Our desire and passion was so pent up, it was tightly sealed under pressure, ready to explode at any given moment. It got worse when we tried to ignore it. When our eyes met at work. When we sent each other texts. I could feel myself get soaking wet every time I saw a notification from him, helpless in the face of the anticipation. I puzzled over his emojis. What was he secretly trying to say? He ruminated over mine. Was I flirting or being sarcastic?
I found myself daydreaming as I went through the movements of everyday life. I'd be commuting one morning, stopped at a red light, and suddenly realize that I was soaking wet because Nick's urgent kisses were in the back of my mind. I'd be talking to a client about finances and suddenly flash back to the feeling of his cock filling me, and I couldn't focus anymore. It consumed me, in the particular way of forbidden lust -- when you can't commiserate with your friends or talk to each other like regular people. When you know it's bad and it could (should) stop at any moment and every forbidden touch is electrifying.
One night, we both had to work late. With most of our colleagues out of the office, our workload had quadrupled and we struggled to keep up with the pace. I had a few glasses of wine as I was finishing my reports, so Nick gave me a ride home. He put on a playlist of classic hits and we rolled down the windows as we drove down the highway, letting the wind carry our voices, our frustrations, our fears -- letting the fresh air fill our lungs and cleanse us of everything dark and scary that we had been carrying. I felt free for the first time in a long, long time. And I could tell by the circuitous route that he was taking that Nick didn't want that drive to end.
Finally, he took a detour onto a country road, put the car in park, and turned down the music.
"Jane," he said. "You're so beautiful."
"Come on," I brushed it off with a nervous laugh.