I recognize that Bryson doesn’t mention Dave’s wife by name and that he’s talking about Dave in the present tense, “is such an amazing guy,” like he’s still alive. I can see these wounds are still very fresh.
I know Bryson needed a babysitter, but now I see that his life is probably overwhelmed in a lot of different areas too.
“So Delilah is Dave’s little girl,” he says. “More lemonade?”
He tips back his glass and takes mine from my hand heading back into the kitchen.
I feel the tears stream down my cheeks. This situation is a lot heavier than I thought. As much as I’ve always wanted Bryson for his looks, his charm, and all the other masculine traits he has the fact that he has this very human, sentimental side just makes me want him that much more. He was so loyal to his friend, even to the point of adopting his child…a little girl. And from what I can gather from the brief time I’ve been here I don’t think he has a lot of experience or knowledge when it comes to this.
But he’s trying. Is he ever trying.
He’s doing his best. And even though he might be a hot mess right now, it’s something I can relate to. Half the time, okay more than half, I have no idea what’s going on with my life and I feel like it’s a complete wreck…and it’s almost always because of my own doing and my own decision making…or lack thereof.
Bryson made a decision that he knew would be challenging. That he knew he wasn’t prepared for. But he had to. He’s a man of conviction and honor and I’m so honored to be able to be around a man like him.
I go to wipe the tears from my face with the back of my hand but suddenly a tissue appears out of nowhere.
“Thanks,” I say, taking it as I dob at the wetness.
Bryson sets my topped up glass down next to me and sits back down.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“It’s okay,” I say.
“It’s just that you’re an adult and you deserve to know. You’re involved now…if you want to be that is. If not I won’t hold it against you one bit. I’ll personally pay for your ticket back home or anywhere in the country you want to fly.”
“No, no. I’m staying.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“But you realize I’m in way over my head here and I’m going to need a lot of help.”
“Well figure it out…together,” I say.
His hand closes to me comes off his armrest and he extends it in my direction. I extend my hand as well and place it in his.
I feel his hands size first, and then notice it’s warmth. He squeezes my hand tight and I feel a lot of things but most importantly I feel like we’re connected.
We’re in this together and we’re going to figure it out. And I already figured out long ago that this is the man I want by my side no matter how big the challenge. And I’m ready to show him he made the right choice by choosing me.
CHAPTER 6
Bryson
I knew she was the right choice.
I look up at the white stucco ceiling in my room. I’m having one of those moments when you realize you’ve faced a major crossroads and you made the right choice.
She’s the right choice.
Perfect in fact.
Just seeing how much she’s grown when she got off that plane. She isn't a girl anymore. She was a stunning young woman.
And then today in the backyard when I dropped a bomb on her she handled it with elegance, ease, and a spirit that said she’s ready for this challenge.
How did I get so lucky?
And to think she’s not more than ten feet from me in the room next to mine. I hope she’s sleeping peacefully…that she’s finding her accommodations suitable. I want to check on her, but that just seems too creepy. Imagine if she woke up and found me looking in at her.
It might sound crazy but I want to so badly right now. Just to watch her sleep peacefully. It’s been so hectic around here lately that seeing her sleeping peacefully would go a long way towards relaxing me. I don’t need to go to a doctor to know my stress level has been through the roof right.
I sit up in bed and take my pulse. Seventy. It’s way too high for me. My usual resting heart rate is in the mid fifties, when I sleep a lot less. There’s no way I’m getting any sleeping soon. Might as well get up and get a glass of water.
I slip on my underwear and step from my room, passing hers. The door is cracked which surprises me. I’m glad she feels comfortable enough to sleep with the door open. I’m certainly not about to peak in though. The thought of her sleeping nude is exciting, but the idea of finding out that way and losing her trust before I’ve ever gained it is a terrible thought…even if I discovered it by accident. That’s her space, not mine.
But damn I can picture her body laid out across those white sheets like the angel she is.
I bite my lower lip, shake my head, and smile as I walk through the hallway to the kitchen. This is torture I think, laughing at myself.
I walk into the kitchen and poor myself a glass of water. I feel a slight breeze across my ankles, maybe a draft. I look to the side and see the door leading outside is open.
Not good! My protective instincts immediately go off. I know I shut and locked that before I went to bed.
Then I look outside and see her sitting there in a chair. What in the world?
I walk over to the glass door. She’s got on a loose T-shirt and something below, but I can’t tell due to the angle and the fact that she’s sitting down.
Should I leave her alone? I don’t want to disturb her if she’s thinking about something.
She raises a glass to her lips. It looks like she’s having another lemonade. I’m glad she liked it.
I rap my knuckles on the glass door lightly three times, not wanting to wake up Douggie or Delilah.
Her head turns slowly and she smiles at me.
I slide the glass door open and step outside.
The night air feels crisp and perfect.
Her eyes are locked on mine but then she quickly runs them down my body and up again. I see even in the dark of the night, the clouds have just moved in front of the moon.
Then it hits me. I’m in my underwear. I’m just so used to living alone that I don’t always get fully dressed. That and being around a bunch of guys at the station, it’s just not something that we worry about. We’re constantly changing in and out of clothes in the locker room. I have to be more careful with a woman in the house now.
“Sorry,” she says realizing I caught her. “I didn’t mean to look.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “Hopefully the view didn’t hurt your eyes.”
She gives me a confused look.
“I haven’t been working out these last couple of weeks as much as I usually do. That and I recently discovered the heaven on earth that is Ben & Jerry’s.”
“You just discovered Ben & Jerry’s,” she says, as if she’s accusing me of committing a crime of culinary omission.
“Way late to the party. But better late than never.”
“You wouldn’t happen to…have some, would you?”
I laugh. “Define some?”
“Maybe some chocolate fudge brownie?”
“That’s my favorite. Want to join me in the kitchen?”
She jumps up from her chair in a playful manner like an actor might if they were trying to dramatize a scene. It’s funny. I like having her around for a lot of reasons. Her youthful exuberance and good humor are definitely two of the main reasons.
In her haste to get inside she dashes through the glass door, which I’ve slid open further, and brushes against me accidentally on her way running to the chairs by the island in the kitchen.
The minute her skin touches mine I get goose bumps. And I’m considerably taller than her so part of that brushing happened in the groin area.
I already feel myself starting to get bigger, thicker, and ready for her.
I shut and lock the door and
quickly move to the freezer, keeping the island between us. I don’t want her to see what one simple brush against me has done. At least not on her first night here. She’s going to think I’m some old recluse that hasn’t seen a woman in forever. At least that would be my guess. I’m completely out of the dating game and all the apps kids use these days so I have no idea how they even go about meeting people in a way that can really build a relationship that lasts.
I consider just handing her the carton so we can eat out of it like kids sneaking a bite in the night, but I do have some manners and a whole lot of respect for her, so I make us a bowl each.
When I hand her her bowl I notice her nipples have also hardened. She hasn’t taken a bite yet so she can’t blame it on the ice cream or the crisp night air. I didn’t notice it before so it must have been a result of her brushing against me. At least that’s what I hope.
We eat our ice cream saying nothing. We just take turns making goofy moans of joy and other noises trying to outdo the others attempts to show just how delicious the cold chocolaty midnight snack really is.
“Finished!” she says, just a half a spoonful before me.
“You beat me!” I say.
She writhes her hands like an evil villain and I laugh out loud. Luckily it doesn’t wake anyone.
I take our bowls and put them in the sink.
“You’re not going to have another?”
“I was definitely thinking hard about it,” I say. I look down at the bowls. “Nah, better not. Once I have two it’s even easier to have three.”
“Three?”
“What can I say? I’m a big guy.”
“I noticed that,” she says. Her eyes drift across my body but unlike earlier she takes her time and doesn’t try and hide it. I wonder if she’s referring just to the size that’s visible, or the size of the new fully straightened rod in my underwear. Did she see that?
“And you’ve gotten bigger too,” I say.
“Are you calling me fat?” she pulls back as if she can’t believe I said that.
“Not at all,” I say, my eyes running across her chest.
“Oh,” she says. “You noticed.”
“How could I not?”
“Well, I just didn’t think…that you noticed me much before.”
“I always noticed you.”
“I thought you just came over because of my brother.”
“The first time, but not any of the other times after that.”
The room goes completely still. Our eyes stay locked together and I know I’m at a crossroads.
Do I remain professional and try and get this conversation redirected to something more…appropriate?
Or do I do exactly what I want and kiss her as hard and as hungrily as my body wants to right now?
I walk around the side of the island and she stands to meet me.
Our hands naturally find each others.
She moves in close, my erection pressing against her.
She presses against me causing my cock to twitch. She leans in from the waist up pressing her breasts against me. I feel her rock hard nipples and the decision is no longer mine.
I lean in and see her eyes close just before mine.
I feel her breath on my mouth just before my lips crash into hers and I feel a sudden heat inside me like I’ve never felt before.
CHAPTER 7
Aubrey
I lie in my bed staring at the ceiling.
That could have easily gone a lot farther. A lot, lot farther.
What would have happened if Delilah hadn’t cried out in the night?
All he had to do was push my panties to the side and slide his cock into me and absolute mayhem would have broken out in the kitchen.
Years of desire would have come out, and now I know it wouldn’t be just my desire, but his as well.
He’s wanted me to. He said it. It was something of a whisper and a moan in my ear. And it was so deep from within his diaphragm. The way he spoke. It was like he wasn’t speaking, but it was coming from within his core. And did it ever shake me to my own core.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he said. I didn’t know if he was confessing his feelings or simply stating mine out loud.
He was doing both. We were on the same page. The same wavelength.
It was perfect. We are meant to be together and we will be.
And by together I really mean together. I’ve waited all these years to give myself to someone, but not just anyone. That’s exactly it. There was only ever one. Him.
Boys in college that clumsily asked me out on dates? I never accepted.
Teachers with their inappropriate propositions for help during their private office hours? No way.
Fraternity parties with copious amounts of booze and other drugs followed by the hookup culture which is so prevalent? The one that studies show gives you what you think you want but leaves you feeling oh so empty afterwards? Chasing the greatest feeling, love, in a misguided way that only takes you farther and farther away from ever finding it. Hell no!
I want something real. Something only he can provide me.
I heard him go back into his room. We both got Delilah settled back in and now we’re the ones who are settled in…separated by one wall.
How easy would it be to pick back up right where we left off? For me to quietly creep into his room and mount him, riding him until he’s filled me with his seed. Until he’s exploded inside me and given me not only my first time, but my first out of body experience. My first climax.
God, how I want that. How I want it more than anything.
But tonight isn’t the right night. I just got here. I have a job to do. He’s treating me like a adult and I have to act like it.
Plus after I learned all those years ago that he was a fireman I’ve had this exact fantasy about him. Him taking me all rough and ready. Some girls want romance for their first time. Of course. I used to too. But not anymore. I want heat and passion and uncontrollable lust. To be in the moment completely and to be overcome, not being able to hold back.
Basically what nearly happened minutes ago.
But that moment was lost. And if I’m honest with myself, I’m happy it was.
It gives me a second chance at a first chance. A first time with him in a fireman’s suit and multiple fantasies fulfilled all at once.
I know I won’t be able to control myself when the time comes…if I can even wait that long. If I can hold out.
Because a big part of me has already waited much too long. And that’s the part of me that’s going to be the hardest to contain.
Like right now.
CHAPTER 8
Aubrey
I wake up super early the next morning as I’m not used to the time difference in California. But I’d fallen asleep so late that I’m still tired, so I go back to sleep and stay completely horizontal till nine o’clock when I wake completely refreshed.
I meander into the kitchen and find out one of the reasons I may have woken up when I did.
“Morning sunshine,” he says.
“Morning,” I say trying to shield my eyes from the light coming in from outside.
“How do you like your eggs?”
“Scrambled,” I say. I’m still getting my bearings.
I hear a spatula poking into the skillet and smell the other common scents of the morning. The fuel that America runs on. Bacon. Black coffee. Toast and butter. The dining hall at college definitely never smelled like this.
“I thought all this kind of stuff was my job.” I say it a bit serious and a bit jokingly, but realize it’s probably more fact than fiction.
“You’re a good negotiator,” he says.
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