Page 11 of The Weight of Love

I pull her towards me, gripping her thighs and sliding her onto my lap. The change in angle is so much deeper than when she was over the back of the couch; then she sank down on me with a gasp.

She starts to ride me hard. Her hands are bracing against my chest. As her back arches, I grab the edge of her sports bra and pull it off over her head, releasing those gorgeous tits. Pulling her close, I latch on to one pink nipple sucking hard while she arches further back, trusting that I will keep her from falling backward.

I keep a hold on her hips with one hand and back with the other as I lift up to play with her other nipple. Giving it as much attention as the other.

Stella leans down to kiss me, and the angle shift is all it takes. I explode underneath her, with a gasp of her name as she clenches around me at the same time. Collapsing forward against me as we both feel aftershocks recoil through our bodies. It feels like a piece of my soul escaped from my chest. My world shifted.

What was that…

We sit here for a while, breathing in time with each other while I try to regain some sense of reality.

Stuff like this doesn’t just happen. I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to take a moral high ground somewhere, have some self-control, and avoid the random…Well, hell. This isn’t even a one-night stand. There wasn’t even a date. I really am worse than a fuck boy; I’m just a gym rat scamming on some poor, unsuspecting, single mom.

The thoughts are pouring in as a steady stream of self-doubt and shame is quickly overtaking me at the moment now that the initial lust for her is dying down. It’s not helped by the fact that her nearness has me just as ready to go again.

What is wrong with you, dude? You’re supposed to have manners. Treat a woman right? Your Gran would have your butt over this in less than a hot second if she ever had an idea that you were doing this nonsense. You need more Jesus in your life, clearly.

Stella pushes up off me and stands, quickly tossing her hair over her shoulder. I look up, expecting to see my shame reflected on her face, but she looks content.

And sexy as hell…

Nope, I’m definitely not thinking about Jesus. I attempt again to combat the sex-obsessed teenage boy who is apparently in the driver’s seat of my brain right now and start looking for clothes. Hers, mine, doesn’t matter. Clothes will help this feel less cheap. I’m sure of it.

We dress quietly, with a different kind of tension in the air thick between us. I don’t know if it’s regret on her side, but that’s at least the overwhelming feeling I can’t seem to shake as we get back into the elevator and head down to the exit. Her employee is gone, and the lower cubicle area is dark and silent.

Thankfully, Stella cranks up some music as we drive back to the gym so that I can let my thoughts drift rather than attempting to make more small talk and dig myself into a deeper hole. As much as I want to say I’m not still drawn to her, I am. That’s the problem.

It’s not that I regret anything with Stella. I want her more than I’ve ever felt for someone before. I don’t think I can do this no-strings thing, though. How could I? When I know that if I let myself slip back into that effortless flirting, with that electric pull between us, I’ll fall too hard and fast?

“You’re awfully quiet there, Cowboy.”

“Was quite a bit of cardio to process.”

She gives me a knowing nod and holds her hand flat, palm side up.

“Open your phone up to a new blank text.”

I do, despite knowing that this is a terrible idea. Having her number, having her close but wanting to keep her at arm’s length, sounds like a fresh sort of hell. Maybe that’s what I need to remind me to never lead with my dick again.

A text message chimes through on her car dash, and she hands me back my phone.

“Just in case you don’t have a crisis of conscience or decide you need some cardio another time.”

Our eyes lock and I can tell she’s reading the change in my mood. How? I have no clue. Maybe I’m that transparent. But she definitely seems to be picking up on the shift in my mood faster than I did.

I don’t want to leave it on this note. I can’t. Not when I’m sitting there with every fiber of my body wanting to pull her to me and make love to her all over again.

I reach over and pull her into a kiss, but it’s lost the roughness and edge from before. This is something different. Something that gives a hint of what I think this could be but clearly doesn’t fit. It’s as much a goodbye as an acknowledgment of our connection.

I break off the kiss and stop, resting my forehead against hers momentarily as her breath exchanges with mine.

“Genuinely a pleasure, Stella. Hope you have a really good rest of your night. Can you do me a favor and text me when you make it home safe? It’s really late.”

She pulls back, gives me a chuckle, and nods as I climb out of her car.

“Hey, Clark?”

I turn back before shutting the door, lean down, and look at her from across the dark car.

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