Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 48061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
His eyes are shut tight, and his lips parted. I seal my mouth to his and feel his indrawn breath. Our tongues tangle, and I can’t believe I lived so long without kissing this man. I slide down his length and up again, my fingers close around the base of him. I need to find the angle, get my balance and concentrate on bringing him pleasure.
His eyes are still shut, head thrown back, one hand gripping my hip. He reaches between us, finding my clit like he’s got a compass. He shifts beneath me, bucks his hips up to meet my measured rocking strokes. A surge of joy flows through me, and I brace my palms on his chest. I arch my back and ride him. I say his name and his eyes snap open. His gaze darkens, hunger and astonishment warring for dominance. He covers my hand with his, pressing my palm over his heart, and holds my eyes as I ride him.
He catches my lips and as soon as I open for him, he surges up into me, the hot rush of his climax pouring into my body as he goes rigid beneath me, pounds me and fills me as only he ever has. That pulsating shock makes me flutter and clench again. A yearning impulse to hold him inside me drowns out common sense.
He shifts us and lays on his back with me on top of him. Benny’s strong arms are around me like a fortress. My bare legs tangle with his expensive dress pants. The thud of his heart against my cheek, his fingers in my tumbled hair—it is exquisite and bittersweet. It feels familiar, like stepping back in time, but new as well.
My body has changed so much since then—I wonder how much he noticed—the stretch marks, the softer belly, the width of my hips. I wouldn’t let myself be embarrassed or apologize. My body has carried me this far, imperfect and scarred but still whole and still mine. He, unfairly, has only grown more handsome. The lanky boy I had known has grown into his height, filled out and worked out until he looks and feels powerful, solid.
He feels so much like home that I can hardly breathe.
12
BENNY
When I set my goals for the year back in January, they were all along the lines of building back trust in the organization and making sure stakeholders feel a sense of belonging and loyalty.
I planned to do more with the Boys and Girls Club local chapters. Nowhere on that list for the year did I jot down ‘sneak around with old girlfriend’. Yet here we are, and I know her work schedule and the hours when she has to help her mom out with therapy and around the house. It’s committed to memory because those are the markers that our time together has to pivot around. For my part, I’ll shuffle meetings, end conference calls early, send an email instead of meeting face to face.
Dad questions me one morning when I say I am leaving for a couple of hours. A flood of resentment and defensiveness surges up in me—I’ve spent every waking hour protecting his disintegrating reputation and shoring up his business for years and he begrudges me a couple of hours? I make myself roll my shoulders, take a slow breath. The frustration falls away—he is struggling with his health, his mortality, his pride, and doesn’t need my aggravation taken out on him.
“Just some stuff I have to take care of. I’ll be back for the meeting with Grigo at one.”
He snorts and stuffs his hands in his pockets, walks out of my office. He looks a little lost, sending a wave of sadness over me. I message Daisy that I’m on my way. We’ve only met up a couple of times since she came here to dump the flowers I’d sent her mom.
I’d see her all the time if I could, but I won’t tell her so. I’ve been up front about wanting to spend time with her while she’s in town. I have a sense—or a superstition—that if I ask her how long she plans to stay or what her plans are that she’ll pull away from me. It’s humbling to know this about myself—that I’ll take her however I can have her. Even if it means coloring inside the lines so to speak, accepting what she’s willing to give without asking for more. If I’m too serious about this, if I pressure her for more, then I’ll lose what we have.
It's a quick drive to the coffee shop. I go early so I can grab her a caramel iced coffee and a muffin. She meets me in the parking lot, locks her car and gets into my truck. It’s a rush seeing her there, sitting across from me, her peach lotion scent filling the cab. I breathe in deeply, and it feels like I’m getting high off her scent, her bright eyes and the shock of delight on her face when I hand her the coffee drink.