by M. Mabie
She nodded, blinked lazily looking at my lips, and whispered, “Okay, I’ll shut up.” Then she kissed me and made that other sound that tethered me to the moment.
I stripped her naked, then I stood as she pulled my briefs down to my knees and I kicked them away. I retrieved a condom out of my nightstand and put it on.
She inched her way further up the bed and I joined her. Again, her hand found me as I held myself above her. Her fingers wrapped around me at my base and she pulled.
“Ah.”
Her touch was exactly what I liked. She did it again, and I moved her left thigh so that I could get closer to her.
I licked two fingers and quickly realized that wasn’t necessary at all.
“Ah.”
She was wet. Really wet. For me. Sweet hell, it was like a kill shot to my chest.
When my fingers swept through her she bucked and a quiet moan slipped out of her lips. Her chest rising and falling under me, her breasts parted just enough to show them move ever so gently as her shoulder hitched with her shorter breaths.
All of these things happened and just kept happening. I was merely there experiencing it, like it was my first time. And, miraculously, like it was her first time, too.
She lined me up with her entrance then left me there. Again pairing her hand with mine, she raised them above her head. Then I pushed into her.
“Ah.”
Her head fell back against the pillow and she sighed.
I took my time. Holding my weight against her, I waited until I felt her push back against me—when she was ready for more.
I’d like to think I went with her slow at first, but maybe I didn’t. Once her mouth was on mine, and I tasted her moans instead of only hearing them, I set a pace that had her wrapping her legs around my waist.
One hand still holding tight to mine, she lifted up on her other elbow bringing our chests together.
She was trying to kill me. It was a certain sweet death for sure.
Her needy sounds became more frequent and a shiver in her body let me know she was getting close—or at least I prayed she was.
I would have chosen death over coming before her our first time. I leaned to one side and worked my hand between us, hoping to help her on her way. With my two fingers I rubbed over her until she was saying my name and few other things that wouldn’t be fair to her to repeat.
I bared my teeth. It felt like the only thing I could do to help myself hold on for just a little longer. The condom helped mute things, but only just.
She kissed me hard, her tongue finding mine first, but still making that sound I liked best, regardless of who found who. Her hips rocked into me, grinding slower and slower until she relaxed in my arms. That feeling was one of the most powerful sensations that had ever run through my body.
She was satisfied. By me.
“I want you to come, Rhett.”
Dear. God.
The seven sexiest words I’d ever heard. Wait. They were only six words, but I wasn’t mentally capable of simple math at that moment. Not since we were agreeing on something so good.
“Ah,” I moaned for more than the fifty-fifth time. Or maybe fifty-sixth. Who knew?
Why was I thinking about numbers when she was holding onto my ass like that, pushing me into her like she was?
I could have sworn I felt her tense against me for a second time, but I had my own agenda. My stomach tightened, and my hips rocked into her in long, hard thrusts.
Then I stilled my rhythm, my eyes shut hard, and my hand slapped against my headboard to hold the earth still for just a few more perfect seconds as she panted and clung to me. I think it was involuntary, but I pushed into her a few more times loving the feeling of her reflexively gripping me when I did it.
It was then I felt the cool breeze of the fan against my damp skin, and I realized I was in my room, in my bed, with my dream girl.
Then I rolled to my side off of her and my arm flew across the bed to the side that wasn’t messed up like where she lay. My hand hung over the edge, and I felt a cold, wet nose brush against it.
“Andy, you’re a pervert,” I accused.
Hearing his name, he popped his head up and balanced with two paws on the mattress.
“Andy, you bad boy,” she scolded, laughed and added, “I’m thirsty.”
So was I.
“A big old glass of Crystal Gayle would be nice right about now,” she added and we laughed, all the while trying to catch our breath.
I needed to get rid of the condom anyway, so I jumped up and headed to the kitchen. When I came back, she was lying on the neat side of the bed and Andy was beside her.
That wasn’t happening. I could deal with her riding on the other side of my truck for a few miles, but sleeping on the other side of a dog wasn’t in the cards. Not that night.
She was mine, and I wasn’t letting go until morning.
“Scoot,” I said and nudged the little brown dog. I didn’t care if he slept in the bed, but I was getting pride of place next to Sunny. “You can lay over here.” I patted the edge of the bed where I usually slept and handed her the cold bottle of water. I’d drunk my fill of orange juice at the fridge.
She opened the bottle and tipped most of it back. “He has to sleep over there, huh?”
I situated the pillows so that I could have my own and laid down somewhere close to the middle of the king-sized mattress.
“Yes. Come here,” I said and she did, putting the water on the nightstand closest to her.
“That’s not very hospitable,” she teased.
I kissed her forehead and considered a second round, for which he’d be safer over there anyway.
She sank into the crook of my arm and I reminded her, “You said he didn’t mind the wet spot.”
I didn’t have to think much more about round two. She made the choice for us, and climbed on top, giggling and kissing me.
I woke up a few times throughout the night, and each time I lifted my head he held me tighter. I wasn’t a total novice in that situation, but at the same time it felt so different.
Not different-bad, but different-good. Different-awesome.
I’d always thought I didn’t want to sleep that close to anyone. The few times it had happened I’d felt smothered, hot, and couldn’t wait to get home and into my own bed. Lying with him in his bed, Andy having run off to somewhere quieter hours earlier, I noticed I didn’t feel like I had before.
He was younger, but in his arms it was almost like he was guiding me. Like he was in control. Shouldn’t I know more about this stuff? Shouldn’t I be the one with the cool hand?
Older, wiser.
Maybe it was my age showing and that ever-growing voice in my head that over the past month had become louder and louder. The worried adult voice of caution.
Rhett was fresh out of college, surely ready to live it up after working so hard to graduate. And all of that running? Being home must have felt like a vacation.
He deserved that time to be reckless and see what was out there. I’d had my time. So that was why I’d wanted to hear him say I was his girlfriend. It felt like reassurance that we were doing the right thing.
But was it the right thing for both of us? Would he even consider what he’d be missing out on?
At whatever late or early hour it was, I eventually fell into a calm sleep, deciding I wasn’t going to figure it out that night, but I needed to be careful. And, for the first time, it wasn’t for my behalf. It was for his.
When I woke up, I was completely covered up by a warm quilt. The sun was out, but it still looked early. I lived in the country, but I’d never lived on a farm. The most farming I’d ever done was mowing the yard.
I heard Andy bark outside the window, and I sat up to see what was going on. Rhett was taking the sleeping bags out of the bed of his truck while my dog ran around like a lunatic, sprightly and full of energy.
He’d slept better than I had.
When they got closer to
the door, I heard Rhett say to my dog, “Fine. We’ll go wake her up, but if she kills me my blood is on your paws.”
I laughed quietly and sank back down into the blankets where it was cozy. Then I realized I was still completely naked.
Oh, God, I was going to look a lot different in the morning. As bad as I knew it had to look, I was happy I hadn’t cleaned off my makeup the night before. Most of it had probably been smudged or kissed off, but if there was someone up in the sky looking out for me, I hoped it was Tammy Faye Bakker who had the night shift after our first date.
The blanket was over my head, so I heard, but couldn’t see, when they came into his bedroom.
“Sunny,” he whispered and touched the end of the body burrito thing I had going on. “It’s seven, do you need to get up?”
I held my breath, unsure of why I was playing opossum. Oh yeah, because I probably looked like a train wreck.
A knee dipped into the mattress next to me, then I felt his hand on my arm through the fabric. He gave me a gentle shake.
“Hey, Sunny?”
I felt Andy jump onto the bed to help him. No part of my body was showing and my dog’s nose began hunting through the blanket to get to me. “Is she always like this?” Rhett whispered to my dog.
I was glad he did that. I talked to Andy all the time. It was nice that they were getting along. Andy was ride or die for me. Or whatever pet-master equivalent that kind of relationship was.
“Do you think she’ll want coffee?”
My dog’s nose was sniffing the covers wadded up around my neck and I nudged him.
I wanted all the coffee.
“Do you think she’d want some banana bread with it?”
Again, I knocked my head against the wall of blanket I was hiding under in the direction of my puppy.
His hand grabbed the top of the quilt and started to work it free from where it was tucked under my head.
What if I look like an albino?
What if I have dragon breath?
He’s going to see my boobs, all morning-like and floppy.
I wasn’t ready for that yet. I liked knowing—for sure—that he thought I was pretty. From when he was younger and told me every chance he got, to the way he looked at me now. Okay, maybe he didn’t think it, but I felt pretty around him.
That would all be over when he saw the panther hiding in his sheets.
I braced myself for the dawn and decided to smile anyway. He laughed at me—not the best reaction, but one I’d half-ass attempted for nevertheless.
“Good morning, Sunshine,” he said.
“Hi,” I croaked.
“You don’t look like a killer. I was expecting rage or”—he swiped at the corner of his lips—“a little foaming at the mouth, but you just look pretty.” He yawned and I yawned in response, not knowing what to say anyway, still a little groggy.
“Did Andy tell you yes to the coffee and banana bread?” I inquired.
He scratched his chin, about to humor me. I loved when he did that.
“Funny enough, we were just talking about that. He didn’t know if you take cream or sugar because he can’t see that high.”
A chuckle tumbled from my chest.
“Lots of both. When you think it’s too much, add a little more.” I stretched my legs and pointed my toes, holding the blankets tight up around my neck.
“Are you cold? I can shut this window. It got cool last night.”
“No. I’m just really naked.”
He gave me a skeptical look that told me to get over it, we’d had sex after all. But, what he didn’t realize was there was a big difference between out for the night, drinking and feeling sexy, and how wretched I’d look that morning.
“Would you feel better if I take my clothes off?” he asked, surprising me.
I laughed again. “No,” I said. “Then I’d never get coffee.”
Something playful and wicked sparked in his eye. “You’ve got that right. I’ll go make you a cup.” He leaned over and stopped just before kissing my lips. “Did you change your mind?”
I swallowed and said, trying to use as little dumpster breath as I could, “About what?”
“About being mine,” he replied.
Behind the light-heartedness in his bright eyes, I found a serious gaze. He wasn’t kidding and looked a lot like he had when I first saw him again that summer. Serious. Thoughtful. Like he was working something difficult out in his head.
Maybe I didn’t have to worry so much for the both of us. He didn’t seem blind to what was going on, and it was like he saw right through me to the place where I wasn’t so sure.
“I didn’t change my mind.”
“Good. Don’t.” He pressed his lips to mine, then left.
Being around him was a great workout for my abs. If it wasn’t the laughing that had me doubled over, it was the way—with one look—he could make my core tighten.
How did he do that?
Alone in his room, I noticed the bag I’d brought. He must have moved it into the room that morning while I slept. Again with the thoughtfulness. I slipped on my underwear, jean shorts, a bra, and tank top, then walked to his bathroom to brush my teeth and do something with my head.
I’d seen worse, but it still wasn’t that great. If we were really going to do this, then he’d wind up seeing me at my worst sooner or later. It might as well be sooner, before I got my heart broken if he changed his mind.
I walked into the kitchen barefoot, not remembering to bring a different pair of shoes. I’d been in a hurry the night before. I’m lucky I grabbed my toothbrush.
Well, he was lucky I did anyway.
He was wearing a pair of jeans and a University Track shirt with the sleeves ripped off. One of his pant legs was tucked inside one of his boots and the other laid the way it should.
I crooked my mouth to the side to hide my grin. We were a pair.
He handed me the cup, handle out for me to grasp.
Alone in my head everything felt different. Complicated. Maybe a little awkward. But, when I was there, standing in a room with him, all of the doubt felt so simple and easy to put aside.
I took a sip then committed to drinking about half the cup. He made an excellent coffee. Damn, he was good at everything.
Rhett watched for my reaction to his maiden coffee offering. This was important first morning stuff. Getting a person’s coffee right could be the difference between a return visit and an I’m busy for the rest of my life kind of reaction. I’d dropped guys for lesser offenses.
I held up a finger, needing another minute alone with my caffeine, then closed my eyes and let the fuel hit my veins.
“It’s not that good,” I lied.
He leaned on the counter and crossed his long legs, but the sight of something on the top of the refrigerator had him leaning over, behind me, to grab it.
“Good. Maybe you’ll go home and get some work done.”
Oh, I did not like that and I frowned, but thankfully I wasn’t upset enough to stop drinking coffee. That’s when it’s really bad. When you’re too fucked for coffee—that’s a bad day.
“You don’t mean that,” I challenged.
“I don’t?” His hands held the front and the back of a ball cap as he adjusted it on his head.
“You’re going to miss me when I’m gone,” I explained.
His eyebrows came together, but his eyes let me know he was just playing along. “I am?”
“Yep, you like it when I’m here.”
“I do?”
I nodded as I said, “You probably want to see me later and everything.” I’d become a little sassy, pretend cocky. My lips puckered in petulance.
“You got it all figured out,” he assured, nodding at me and acting out the part of defensive spar.
“I sure do,” I affirmed and set my empty coffee mug on the counter.
I liked this playing, teasing thing he did when he saw the opportunity to work me up. I saw right through it, but it was
so much fun that I looked forward to the game.
He wrapped his arms around me, then spun us, pinning me against the sink. My protest was weak, but I looked him straight in the eyes. He thrilled me when I didn’t know what was coming, and I loved it. Every damn second.
“I’m glad you realize all of that. Now don’t forget any of it. I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
He was going to miss me, he liked me there, and he wanted to see me later.
Where had Rhett Caraway been all my life?
In time and through hilarious trial and error, we came up with an easy solution to Andy getting the window seat. We all got in on Rhett’s side in order. It must have looked dumb and so juvenile, but no one was watching in our little bubble, which consisted of the few gravel miles from his place to mine.
Over the next few weeks, I realized he almost never thought about things the way I expected him to. In fact, he kept me on my toes.
Like, he’d use an umbrella when he picked me up, but then he wouldn’t rush to get us out of the rain if we were kissing. On our third date-date, we did just that, and anyone driving by the radio station would have seen me topless, spread for him on the tailgate of his truck in my driveway. Downpour be damned.
We’d eventually made our way to shelter, but just barely. Only a few feet inside my garage, we finished what we’d started on the steps. Each time we were together felt like the first time. Hot, but special. Sexy and intimate. It didn’t matter if we were in a bed or somewhere outside—I loved being with him.
As the weeks passed, we made it through the whole first season of The Office, and he helped me put in a doggy door for my roommate. Where at first we’d see each other a few times throughout the week, it was becoming a my place or yours situation nearly every night.
The more time I spent with him, the less time I felt like I had to spare. Time went so fast when he was around and the days peeled away.
What I felt for him grew and intensified. We were seeping into each other’s lives like the wet rain had the ground at the beginning of the summer.
However, I still went to my mom and dad’s on Sundays, and he still went to his. When he took me out on Friday nights, which was becoming a weekly ritual, it was always somewhere outside of Wynne. I wondered if he was feeling like I was, like our shared time was sacred, or if he just didn’t want people to see us.