When Aubry and I get back to our apartment, I check the stack of mail and find a white envelope with my name on it. I notice it’s missing a return address and grab it along with my bills before heading to my room. I place my suitcase on the bed and stare at it for a while. I hate unpacking and doing laundry. If I could pay somebody to do it for me, I would. I know staring at it won’t get the job done, though.
“Aubry,” I call out loudly. I haven’t locked my bedroom door, so he comes in and stands in the threshold with one hand on his hip and the other holding his phone.
“Hold on, Aimee,” he says to the phone. “What?” he asks annoyed.
I laugh. “What?” I ask with faux attitude and snap my fingers in front of me as I sashay my body. “Let me just tell you. You have me to thank for hooking you up with princess over there. Anyway, do you wanna do my laundry? I’ll pay you.”
Aubry laughs and shakes his head as he tells Aimee what I asked him to do. She laughs loud enough that I can hear her when Aubry extends his arm to move the phone away from his ear.
“Sure, I’ll wash your shit. Do you have underwear for me to wash? Or did Cole rip them all?” he asks laughing. Bubbled laughter escapes me as he walks away, because I’m pretty sure Cole did rip them all.
I hadn’t considered that Cole was going to meet Aimee soon. I’m sure Aubry is already trying to set up a double date for next weekend. The thought of a double date makes my heart speed up. I’m really going to do this. No fear this time. No fear. I’m not going to lose him. I love him, and I’m not going to lose him. I open the white envelope with no return address. The letter doesn’t even have a header. That’s odd.
August 14, 2011
Ms. Blake Brennan,
We are interested in buying a plot of land that is under your name. The address of the land is 600 Rockwell Street. We would like to offer you $400,000 for it. Please contact us when you are ready to sell.
Best,
O’Brian Investment Group
I dismiss the letter and put it away. How’d they get my address? I guess it’s a public listing, and they found my name. That’s the problem with living in a world of technology. Google can make anybody a stalker in two clicks. I sort through the rest of my mail, and pay a few bills online. My phone rings as I’m looking for my PJs, and I smile when I see Cole’s face on the screen.
“Hey,” I say, grinning like an idiot.
“Hey, baby,” he replies, and I can hear his idiotic smile, too.
“Miss me, already?”
“I always miss you,” he pouts.
“Aww, I always miss you, too,” I coo as if I were talking to a puppy.
“Is it too soon to come see you?”
I laugh. “Cole Murphy, you have lived without constantly seeing me for the past seven years. I’m sure you can survive five days.”
He sighs noisily into the phone. “No, I can’t. I didn’t want to not live with you for seven years. I was dying a slow, agonizing death without you. You just didn’t know it.”
I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me. “I’m so sure you were dying when you were with Erin…and Kim…and Taryn…and Rita…and Sandra…and Jessica…and Sasha…and Ana…and Meredith.”
He laughs loudly. “I was dying the entire time I was with all of them. In fact, you remember more names than I do. I was just killing time with them waiting for you to save me.”
“You’re an idiot—” I’m interrupted by a knock on the door, and I groan. “I have to go, baby. I’ll call you later,” I pout with slumped shoulders, totally acting like a toddler.
“Fine,” he whispers. “Miss me a lot.”
I blow him a kiss through the line and hang up. When I open the door, I’m met with his emerald green eyes and his wide grin. I scream loudly and jump on him, hooking my legs around his waist as he grabs my butt to keep me from falling. I kiss his laughing face over and over.
“I thought five days was nothing?” he asks playfully.
“I lied. It’s too long,” I say, smiling as bright as my heart feels before giving him a tight hug again.
“Good because I wasn’t sure how you were going to react. I kept thinking that maybe I shouldn’t have taken the next flight out here.”
I throw my head back laughing. “Why didn’t you just fly with us, you dweeb?”
“I didn’t know how much I missed you until I saw you walk away from me. Maybe it’s stupid, and I know I sound like one of those corny-ass guys I make fun of, but it’s the truth. I couldn’t bear the thought of not waking up with you in my arms tomorrow morning.”
If there was ever a time that I wanted to scream that I loved this man, this was it. I. Love. This. Man.
I throw my arms around him again and kiss him, pouring all my love into his mouth. He groans as I slip down his hard body.
“We should have been doing this for the past seven years,” he says, lifting me up and kicking the door shut behind him as he walks me further inside my room. He throws me on the bed and unbuttons his dress shirt as he kicks off his shoes. His eyes are boring into mine, and my heart is pounding wildly in anticipation. My skin is flushing and my breath is coming out in short pants as I watch him. When he finishes stripping, he stalks toward me, his hooded eyes never leaving mine. He pulls me by my ankles and undresses me quickly. I notice his breathing hitch when he sees my black lace bra and panties.
“You were wearing this under your clothes this morning?” he asks huskily.
“Yes,” I reply slightly confused. I always wear nice underwear. Then I realize—holy shit—he wouldn’t know. He hasn’t seen me naked in seven years before this weekend. I smile widely because now I know he likes what he sees, and I know that he’ll always like what he sees.
He trails wet kisses up my calf, past my thighs, and works his way up to my mouth slowly, stopping only to nibble on the sensitive parts of my body that he knows so well. I struggle to keep my breath even, but when he pulls the cup of my bra down and I feel his mouth close on my nipple, I am a goner. I put my hands on his head, wishing he had more hair for me to grab.
“Why’d you cut your hair?” I groan.
He clamps my nipple with his teeth, making me yelp before he looks at my face with his lips upturned, showing off his dimple. “I didn’t want anybody else to touch it.”
He lowers the other side of my bra and caresses my nipple with his tongue while he massages the other one with his fingers, not leaving any part of me ignored. I moan his name as he continues his sweet torture. He brings his lips to mine and kisses me softly as he shimmies my panties down my legs. He centers his hard, muscular body between my legs and enters me slowly, relishing the feel of me. His face watches mine in wonder, in awe, in love—and my expression returns the sentiment. We move in sync, pumping with emotion and sensual pain, and we fall together.
“What did you mean you didn’t want anybody else to touch it?” I ask as I look up at him with my head on his chest and thread my fingers through his short brown hair.
He smiles sadly. “When you broke up with me and I went to North Carolina, I just wanted to start over. I was forced to start over. I didn’t want to,” he gives me a knowing look. “My second week there I met some random girl at a party,” he caresses my face when I cringe at the thought. “She was flirting with me, asking me about my classes and football practice, and she leaned up and ran her hand through my hair. It made me think of you, and I decided to cut it off the next day. I didn’t want to ever be with a girl and have her pull on my hair like you did. It was bad enough that when I was with girls I wished they were you. I could only picture being with you,” he shrugs. “My hair was for you. Only for you.”