A Kiss For You

by Rachel Van Dyken

  But that was what Bodie did. He anticipated what I required and gave it to me, even when the gift was his silence. He cared about me more than he’d said. But he still cared for me without demand, without expectation.

  He was air and sun and soil, just existing around me to give me all I needed to grow. And all the while, I’d grown and blossomed and bloomed, not realizing that I needed him to keep me breathing.

  I crossed the room, overwhelmed and overcome by the revelation, trying not to think of what it meant or what it would mean. Instead, I looked into his eyes and told him without a word what I felt for him. I told him with my fingers slipping under his coat that I wanted him. I told him with my lips pressed to his that he’d changed me and there would be no going back.

  His body was hard against my palms as they roamed up his chest, and I leaned into him, the two of us angled against the door, me standing between his legs so I could reach his lips.

  And that was the thing that struck me the most; he felt what I felt. He knew what my body told him just as much as I knew what his told me.

  Never in my life had I felt this before. I’d had power sex. I’d had flirty sex. I’d had fun sex and serious sex. But in that moment, I became aware of a fact that that changed me, there in my room, kissing Bodie.

  I had never been intimate.

  I wasn’t just hungry for his body. I was hungry for his heart and soul.

  I wanted all of him. I just hoped I could hold onto him without it breaking me.

  My tongue swept his lip, and he opened his mouth, turning my face with his hand, and I opened up in kind, leaning into his palm. He pulled me into him with his free hand — the length of him pressing against my belly sent a shock up my spine, to my lungs, springing them open as I sucked in a small breath.

  He hooked his arm around my waist, keeping me flush against him as he pushed away from the door, leaving my feet dangling off the ground, even as I wished they were wound around his middle but my dress wouldn’t allow it. And then gravity shifted as he lay me down in bed gently. But he didn’t lower his body onto mine like I wanted, and I hung onto his neck like it could convince him to.

  His hand ran up my arm and to my face, and he broke the kiss with a smile, his eyes laden with something that betrayed the levity of his lips.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Penny,” he whispered, coaxing me to let him go.

  But the words meant more than that to me.

  I relaxed my arms, and he stood, his eyes sliding up and down my body as he unbuttoned his coat and grabbed his lapels, pulling it open, exposing his broad chest, then shoulders, then arms. His big hands tugged the knot of his tie, slipping one piece from the other with a whisper of silk. And it seemed to take an hour for him to unbutton his shirt. I could have watched that in slow motion on a loop — the sliver of skin on his chest that grew wider with every button, his hands gripping both sides as he opened it just like he had his jacket. Except when that crisp white shirt was gone, all that was left was his beautiful naked chest, all shadows and angles and planes and the tattoo on his arm where I’d put it.

  He could have undress and redress and undress again and again, and I would have laid there and watched, content and unhurried and perfectly satisfied.

  His pants were next, his leather belt in his fist sending a burst of images through my head — his cock in his hand, the pop and sting of that leather belt against my ass. He snapped open his button with a flick of his fingers, lowering his zipper just as quickly, kicking off his shoes and dropping his pants in movement that felt deliberate and restrained.

  And then he was naked before me, the man who’d snuck his way in without me even realizing.

  I moved to sit, but he stopped me, laying me back with his hand on my cheek and thumb shifting against my skin. I turned my head to press a kiss into his palm, and he bent to kiss my lips, a kiss without demand but one that burned with smoke and fire and want and need.

  He still wasn’t in bed with me, and I reached for him, wanting him on me, around me, in me. Just wanting him. He was too far away, but he didn’t give me what I was asking for, not this time. This time, he would do what he wanted.

  Bodie walked to the end of the bed and slipped his hand over the bridge of my heeled foot and up my leg, pushing the hem of my dress up with it. I opened my legs, and one of his knees slid between my calves and then the other, his hand still on a track up my leg as he climbed onto the bed and knelt before me.

  His hand moved from my thigh to the tie of my dress, a simple bow, and he slid the silk between his fingers, meeting my eyes as he pulled. The bow came undone and fell away, and my dress opened just enough to expose a slice of skin down to my belly.

  He sighed, his eyes on his hands as he ran his fingers down my sternum, down my stomach, hooking under one side to expose my breast, leaving the chiffon pooling around the bend of my hip. But that sliver of me was naked, from my neck to the center of me, and his eyes drank me in like he was parched.

  I spread my thighs, opening myself up to him. And he lowered his lips to my offering, closing his eyes as he kissed the hot line between my legs like he was confessing a secret.

  My hands slipped into his hair, my hips rocking and breath shuddering, my pulse climbing as my body neared the edge, the blissful edge.

  I called his name — a plea— my hands on his shoulders to tell him I needed more, that I wanted it all, I wanted everything, and he climbed up my body, his hand on my jaw, his fingertips in my hair, the tip of his crown at the slick center of me. And then he looked into my eyes and shifted his hips, filling me up, claiming me as his, giving himself to me, all in a breath.

  His body moved, rolling and flexing, his eyes on mine, his lips parted and brows together, and he said my name. And that whisper on his lips was all it took to push me over that edge in a rush of heat and a burst of electricity down my spine, sending my back arching and lungs gasping and body pulsing. And at my release, he found his own, my name in a loop that followed every thrust of his hips as they slowed.

  Our eyes were closed, his forehead against mine, his body pinning me down and our breaths mingling. And for some reason, I felt tears pricking the corners of my lids, my nose burning and a lump heavy in my throat.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down to bury his face in my neck so I could hide from him. Because in that moment, for the first time, I’d found something real, something beyond me, even if I didn’t know what to make of it. I only knew how it felt, and I felt it all the way through me, through every atom. And I made a vow never to forget it.

  If I hadn’t been addicted to him before, now there would be no hope. No amount of rehab would cure me.

  We held each other like that for a long time before he rolled onto his side, pulling me with him and pulling out of me in one motion. He kissed me sweetly before rolling out of bed and heading to the bathroom, leaving me alone.

  I lay there on my side with my back to the door and my heart full of shrapnel. It burned — my chest was shredded and smoldering and elated and aching. I didn’t know what it meant. I didn’t want to think about what it meant. I just wanted him back in bed with me. I wanted my name riding his breath and his arms around me and his lips against mine.

  I wanted simple and easy. But we were past that.

  He came back a minute later with a warm washcloth and cleaned me up like he always did but without the intention of more. Something in him was reserved, contained, like he was trying to separate from me.

  The thought made me want to hang onto him more.

  He stood and began to collect his clothes, and I felt my heart break.

  “Stay,” I said simply, holding my breath in the hopes that he would say yes, the word hanging in the air as he turned to me.

  I had never intentionally spent the night with anyone — I’d never wanted to. But the last thing in the whole world I wanted was for Bodie to walk out that door.

  His face was soft and cautious as he asked, “Are you
sure?”

  And when I smiled and nodded, relief washed over him, and he slipped into bed next to me, holding me in his arms, whispering my name as we drifted off to sleep.

  Bear Trap

  I poured a ladle of pancake batter into the pan with a sizzle, smiling as it spread into a perfect circle.

  It was a little late for me — I had to get home to work, the impending meeting looming over me like a dark cloud — but still I’d crawled out of Penny’s bed, wishing I could stay there all day.

  There were a lot of things from the last eighteen hours I’d never forget, but Penny curled up in bed, swathed in fluffy white bedding in the morning sunshine, her tattoos and purple hair bright against the crispness of her sheets — that was almost at the top of the list. Dancing with her to The Cure and pushing her on the swing were up there too. But the very top? The number one?

  Her eyes locked on mine when she’d given herself to me.

  A jolt of happiness and pleasure and anxiety shot from my stomach to my throat at the thought. As much as I wanted to talk to her, that moment had been enough for me. She didn’t need to say anything.

  I just knew. I knew how she felt and what she wanted. That line of communication was so much deeper than words could ever express.

  At the same time, I had to let her lead. So I’d tried to tell myself to go like I knew she always needed me too. And when she’d asked me to stay, it was all I could do not to confess my feelings on the spot. Instead, I’d slipped into bed with her and told her in all the other ways I could that I needed her.

  I slid the spatula under the flapjack and flipped it just as her door opened.

  She shuffled out, yawning, her hair in a purple bun on top of her head. And she was wearing my dress shirt, the hem cutting her mid thigh and only the tips of her fingers visible past the sleeve cuffs.

  I could have died a happy man.

  She smiled at me, her eyes blinking slowly as she sidled up next to me and wrapped her arms around my bare waist.

  “You cook,” she said in wonder.

  I laughed and picked up the box of Bisquick. “No, I follow directions.”

  She laughed. “If I’d known I’d wake up to you making pancakes in dress pants and no shirt, I would have asked you to stay over a long time ago.”

  I wrapped an arm around her back. “If I’d have known you’d wear my button-down like a nightgown, I would have begged you to let me stay.”

  She nuzzled into me, but I felt the wall crumble a little, felt her uncertainty behind it in the small sigh that left her.

  So I kissed her crown and changed the subject. “There’s coffee.”

  She kissed my chest and slipped away. “You are just too good to be true.”

  The words held double meaning, and I knew it. But I kept my eyes on the task at hand, moving the pancake onto the stack I’d been building and poured another.

  She poured her coffee in silence and took a seat at the table. When I snuck a glance at her, she was cradling her mug with both hands, bottom lip between her teeth and her brows together, sending my heart off a bridge.

  I set down the spatula and strode over to the table. The worry in her eyes was so clear when she met mine, and I knelt next to her chair, grabbing the seat to turn her to me.

  “Get out of your head, Pen.”

  She didn’t say anything, only watched me with the question Why? shifting in her irises.

  “Hey.” I cupped her face with my heart hammering a warning. “It’s okay. This can be easy,” I soothed, smoothing my face, smiling gently with a handful of oats and Penny stamping her hooves in front of me. “Nothing has to change, okay? I … I feel it too, but we don’t have to name it or label it. Let’s just do what we feel like doing, just like we have been. Call me when you want. I’ll do the same. It can be easy, Penny.”

  She took a breath and touched my cheek. “Promise?”

  And I sighed, the easy smile on my face now one hundred percent genuine from relief. “I promise.” And I sealed the lie with a kiss.

  She melted into me, winding her arms around my neck and squeezing to bring our bodies flush, her legs parting to make room for my waist. My hands traveled from her cheeks to her breasts to her ribs to her hips, and then I grabbed her ass and held her to me, using every muscle in my core and thighs to stand.

  She wrapped her legs around me and hummed into my mouth as I turned for the bedroom.

  Penny broke away, lips swollen. “What about the pancakes?”

  “Fuck the pancakes,” I whispered before pressing my lips to hers again.

  I watched Bodie washing dishes in his white button-down and dress slacks as I sat at my kitchen table with my chin propped on my hand and a dippy smile on my face.

  I didn’t even know who I was anymore.

  Bodie had spent the night, and I’d slept better than I had in my whole life. He’d made me pancakes and fucked me senseless and danced with me and made me laugh and made me happy. And as freaked out as I was, I kept telling myself that it was going to be okay, just like he’d said.

  He’d promised. And I believed him, which was probably naive. In the moment, I couldn’t have cared less.

  He turned with a smile, drying his hands on a dishtowel before striding over to kiss me gently.

  My eyes were still closed for a second when he broke away, and he chuckled.

  I sighed and pried my lids open, chin still on my hand. “I hate that you have to go. How much work do you have?”

  His smile fell, and he looked a little tired at the thought. “A lot. Too much. I’m not even sure how we’re going to get it done in time.”

  “You will. You’re a mathmagician.”

  “Ha. If only I had a magic wand.”

  I waggled my brows. “Oh, but you do.”

  He leaned down to kiss me again before backing away, his blue eyes searching mine. “Hit me up, Pen.” The words were soft and edgeless but with a hidden request in the shadows.

  So I smiled, having heard him and understood, and said, “I will.”

  He pressed another small kiss to my temple and walked away, and I watched him until the door was closed.

  The second it clicked shut, Veronica threw open her door with her eyes like a couple of fried eggs and her hair a mess, striding into the room.

  She pointed at the door. “Oh my fucking God. Did Bodie spend the night?”

  I smiled with my lips closed and nodded, making the bun on top of my head bob.

  She squealed and did a little Flashdance before swooping into the chair next to me. “I thought I heard him, but I was afraid it was someone else. And if it was someone else, I was prepared to brain you with a frying pan.”

  I frowned, offended. “You thought I might have come home from the wedding with someone besides Bodie?”

  She huffed and rolled her eyes. “You’ve done it before.”

  “Not true. I always go home with my dates, asshole. But yes, that was definitely Bodie. And he definitely spent the night. And he definitely made me pancakes this morning.”

  Her cheeks flushed, and she giggled. “God, he’s such a fucking catch, Pen.”

  I eyed her. “Why are you so happy?” I scanned her face and body and lit up. “You got laid!”

  Her blush deepened. “No, I didn’t.”

  This time, I pointed. “Oh my God, you did! You got nailed! Finally. I was worried your junk was gonna dry up. All dust bunnies and mothballs and shit,” I said, wagging my hand at her nethers.

  Another eye roll. “You are such a drama queen. We’re talking about you and Mr. Math. Penny, he spent the night. Like, what the fuck does that even mean?”

  I shrugged and drew a little circle on the table with my finger. “It means I got pancakes and morning sex.”

  “Don’t do that. I’m serious. This is a big deal.”

  “I know, but we’re not … I dunno. Calling it anything. We’re just letting it be what it is,” I said simply.

  “And how long do you think that�
�ll last?”

  I chuffed, my emotions bubbling and steaming and hissing with uncertainty and anxiety. “God, why are you being such a dick about it? I don’t know what it is. I just know that I like him. I like him a lot. I want to be around him all the time, and I want to tell him stuff and let him sleep in my bed. And the whole thing freaks me the fuck out without you on my ass, so maybe just lay off a little.”

  Her face softened. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I just … I want you to be happy and okay, and I’m a little scared for you.”

  I sighed and sagged in my chair. “Me too. Ronnie, I don’t know how to do this. Like, I have no chill when I really like a guy.”

  “In fairness, the last guy you really, really liked was in high school.”

  “And he made me crazy. Courtney Love, rip-down-the-curtains, where-the-fuck-is-my-man crazy. For two years. And through the whole thing, he treated me like shit, and when I lost my mind, he’d just press his finger to my forehead, and I’d calm down and give him whatever the fuck he wanted.” My chest ached at the memory.

  She sighed. “But he was manipulating you.”

  “Fuck yeah, he was. You know, one time, he called me at two thirty in the morning just to say hi. I thought it was so cute and sweet that he was thinking about me, and I asked him where he was. And you know what he told me? That he was at Anna Dorf’s house — that skank. Motherfucker knew I hated her — she had the biggest thing for Rodney and didn’t even pretend to hide it — and he straight-up told me that was where he was. He told me to stop being crazy. So of course, I’m upset trying to figure out if he was fucking with me, and we’re going back and forth, and he’s getting meaner, and I’m getting more and more pissed. And then I heard him ask someone for syrup.”

  “Syrup?”

  “Yeah, because he wasn’t at Anna’s house. He was somewhere getting breakfast food. So I hung up on him. I got dressed and got in my car. There were two places he could get pancakes at that time in Santa Cruz.” I held up two fingers for dramatic effect. “IHOP, where he wasn’t, and House of Pie, where he was. I marched into that motherfucker, stomped over to his table, stuck my finger in his face, and told him never to lie to me about where he was because I’d fucking find him. He looked at me like he was scared to death of me, and he was probably wise to be afraid because I was in a full-blown psychotic break. And just like that, he pulled me onto his lap and laughed and told me he was only joking and that he loved me. The worst part is that by the time he got to the apology or diversion or whatever it was, I wasn’t even mad anymore.”