Surrendered.
Spent.
His smile is delightful. “That’s my girl,” he breathes. He kisses my forehead.
“No kiss on the lips?” I pout.
“Let’s save something for tomorrow, yeah?”
“Just the one thing?” I test, hoping there’ll be more than kisses. A lot more.
He chuckles, but it comes out hoarse. “Whatever you want, kitten.”
What I want? For James to make good on his promise, or his forewarning, whatever it was. To make me his. All of me, for all of him.
I’m getting used to words failing me in the moments I need them.
I think he senses unease where there’s none. Only speechlessness. “Don’t worry, babe. I know what I said. This doesn’t have to be anything than what it was.” But his words don’t buoy me like I think they’re meant to.
What was it?
Perfect.
Transcendent.
So, so good.
Four
James
You can tell a lot about a person by the way they look when they’re deep in concentration. And my girl looks…beautiful, thoughtful, keen. I’d love nothing more than to reach out and touch her. Take her in my arms. Kiss her until she’s dizzy.
I’m pretty sure she would kill me if I tried that now.
The words, whatever those may be, seem to pour from her for hours. I like to think I had some hand in that.
Giggity.
We got the power back on early this morning. Alexi immediately sprang into action. Though I’m curious about her prose, the thoughts and ministrations spinning in that head of hers, I refrain from any distracting interruptions. She’s in the zone, for real this time.
So I keep her coffee cup full. I get lost, take a hike, in the literal sense. I survey some damage from the storm that Nana and the rangers will want to know about.
Nothing too major, thankfully. Some fallen tree limbs. A few loose tiles I’ll need to nail back down, as soon as the roofs aren’t slippery as an ice-skating rink.
It’s late afternoon when I get back to the cabin. Alexi appears in rare form. Arms crossed. Feet stomping back and forth. Her eyes narrowed, expression tense.
“Hey,” I tread.
“Hi,” she clips.
“How’s your writing?”
Alexi nods, not once looking me in the eye. “Really good, actually.”
“Why do you seem so upset?”
“I am upset,” she flat-out says. “With you.”
“With me?”
“That’s what I said,” she says. Her fortifications go up again.
I don’t press the issue. We’ll talk. We will talk. Later.
The day passes quick enough. I do some thinking of my own.
The sun sleeps.
The New Year’s Rockin’ Eve special comes on.
I switch from hot coffee, to cold beer.
“You want one?” I ask Alexi.
She shakes her head, her fingers on the keys, hazel eyes still glued to her laptop screen. That can’t really be good, for a number of reasons.
It’s my turn now to be upset. “Can’t you take a break for one fucking minute and watch this with me?”
“No,” she says.
The hell she can’t. I set down my beer and go to her. If she thinks she can be sensual with me at night, and ignore me all the next day, she’s way the hell off. I love her body. I cherish that pussy. But I need the rest, the quality time, the conversation and shared experiences. And I need those things—from her.
“C’mere,” I say.
“What are you do—”
Before she can finish I lift her up out of her chair and carry her to the couch and set her down. For a heartbeat we both fall silent. Realizing we haven’t even touched each other since last night.
And it feels so damn good when we do, so right. I know she knows it too.
“Talk to me, Alexi. Why in the world are you so pissed off at me you won’t even look at me?”
She looks at me. Her eyes start to glisten with tears, and my heart immediately softens.
“Baby, no.” I wipe her tears. “What are these for? What did I do, baby? Tell me.”
“No.” I barely hear the word. She cuts her gaze away from me. “It’s stupid,” she says, a muffled sob.
“Can’t be that stupid, if it’s got you all shred up like this.” My arms encircle her. She leans into me. I don’t prod her further, yet. The flashy New Year’s Eve ball slowly descends. I dip my head to her ear to whisper, “Clock’s ticking, babe.”
Alexi gazes up at me, her eyes no longer bleary. “You still want to kiss me?”
“Of course, I do.”
“And afterward?”
Well. She’s certainly given me time to ponder that question. I’ve come up with a dozen ways to pass the time after the anticipated kiss. None of them involving much clothing.
“Whatever you want, kitten,” I offer, “and nothing you don’t.”
“I want you to want me…like you did last night.”
I rear back at that. My jaw tightens in irritation. Not at her. At me. At whatever I said or did to make her doubt how badly I crave her. How deep the feeling goes.
I cup her chin, tilting it up so her eyes see into mine as I tell her, “I’ll always want you like I did last night. You’re mine now, Alexi. I said so right?”
“You did.”
“And you want that, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Nice.” I pull her in closer. Holding her face gently in my hand, I lean down to kiss her chin, her cheek, the very corner of her mouth. Alexi sighs. The final countdown begins. I brush her hair off her face. Five. I glide my thumb across her lip. Four. The crowd goes wild.
Three.
I gaze into her eyes.
Two.
“I love you,” I whisper.
One.
I capture her lips. Sealing the truth of my confession. Yes, it’s insane, and it’s insanely real. I loved her yesterday. I love her today and I’ll love her tomorrow.
And for every tomorrow after that.
We kiss, a little, then more. Slowly at first. Then desperately.
She tastes so good, so pure, and sweet, as her mouth moves to the demands of my own. Her lips part, inviting my tongue to frisk with hers. I curl my hand at the nape of her neck, the other exploring her body. Or rather, her clothes.
I break the kiss dourly. “I had to keep my hands off you all day,” I complain. “Do you have any idea how hard that was?”
“How hard?” she says. Little flirt.
I take her hand in mine and press our joined fingers against the bulge threatening to break free of my pants. “Very hard.”
“Wow,” she breathes. Her eyes light up like fireflies. I look down at her curious little fingers toying with my zipper.
We share a look that’s heated.
Then all at once we eagerly shed our clothes, shirts, jeans, down to nothing but my boxers and her thong and bra. She giggles when I reach for her. I lift her into my lap, laying my hands on the backs of her thighs. She grasps my neck. She wraps her legs around my waist. My sex aches like mad for hers.
I can be a patient man. I stroke her skin, all her soft, womanly contours. Secret curves and dips I want to memorize, by touch and taste.