Page 59 of Taking A Chance

She presses the button for the elevator as she presses up to her toes and back down. One arm slinks around mine, her cheek resting on the outside of my shoulder. I push my free hand into my pocket and wait with her, sighing with contentment.

When the elevator door opens, she hesitates for a moment before stepping in. I follow, pressing the button for our floor and giving her hand a squeeze. I don’t want to miss anything, so I turn us toward each other. Cora’s eyes are pressed shut.

She presses both of her hands into mine as the elevator jostles and begins to lift us.

“Open your eyes, love,” I whisper. “It’s just me.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, Cora cracks one eye open, then the other. She exhales slowly and the elevator dings, opening to our floor.

“That wasn’t so bad,” she says, quickly stepping out.

In this moment, for the simplest thing, I admire her. I appreciate her. I am in awe of her.

“No,” I say. “Not bad at all.”

“My apartment or yours?” she asks, our routine so ingrained at this point it’s a question one of us asks each night.

“Yours,” I reply. “You’ve got your meeting in the morning.”

“Oh, right,” she says. “I nearly forgot.”

As she unlocks the door to her apartment, my phone buzzes against my leg in my pocket. I pull it out when I step inside, noticing I have six texts from Ryan.

I sigh, opening the chat.

Ryan:Dude, where are you?

Ryan:Look, I know you’re working on some secret stuff, but I’ve got a surprise for you.

The next two are photos of him with Natasha. Her red dress plunges so deep there’s no doubt things are taped into place. She’s pressing her red lips to Ryan’s cheek, his head thrown back in a fit of laughter. Good for them.

Ryan:Your surprise will be there Thursday at 1PM.

Ryan:Make sure you’re there to sign for it. ;)

His winky face is unsettling. He only uses them when he’s up to something. His surprise probably isn’t even something I want, if history has taught me anything. Ryan is terrible at gifts.

“Something wrong?” Cora asks, filling a glass of water from the tap.

“No,” I say. “Nothing at all. It’s just Ryan. Let’s go to bed.”

I slip out of my boots where Cora left her wedges and we walk barefoot to the bedroom. I never bother bringing clothes, opting to sleep in boxers or nothing; in the mornings, I just slide my pants back on to walk across the hall. Although I do have a toothbrush here. Cora got me one after the third time I stayed over and had been carrying mine back and forth.

At my place, she has a toothbrush, a hairbrush, some lounge clothes, and a book she’s reading. It sits on the nightstand on the side of the bed she sleeps on. Sometimes, at night, she’ll sit and read while I paint in the other room. Or I’ll sit up beside her in bed and sketch. I have an immense appreciation for the little things. Those kinds of moments are what make up a lifetime.

Now, we slip beneath her blanket—my arm under her head, her leg thrown over my hips. She runs her hand over my chest, settling into place. My fingertips graze the bare skin of her thigh as I exhale, completely immersed in comfort. But I feel restless. Perhaps there’s too much on my mind.

“You okay?” Cora asks, not sounding very tired herself.

“A little more awake than I’d prefer,” I say.

Cora presses her leg down, sinking her knee into the mattress and sitting up, straddling me. “I have something for that,” she whispers, bearing down against me.

She leans down, kissing my neck, trailing up to my mouth. Her tongue is greedy, taking from me, and I let her. As far as I’m concerned, she can have anything she wants.

Her hand slides down, gripping my dick through the thin fabric of my shorts, causing me to groan. At some point, and ever so slyly, she removed her panties. Her black silk nightgown is pushed up, bunched over her hips as she presses down on me over and over again.

“God,” I breathe. “You feel so good.”

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