Page 80 of Doughn't Let Me Go

“Yep.”

“Any special requests?”

“I think…”

She wets her lips, rubbing her hands on her bare thighs. Her soft, silky bare thighs…the ones that fit so perfectly around me…

Pull it together, Porter.

“Did you hear me?”

“Huh?” I say, pulling my attention back to her face and not her legs. “Sorry, it’s loud in here. Gotta speak up.”

I’m lying, and she knows it. She stashes that knowledge away for later.

“I said, I think I want to get drunk.”

I should say no. I should tell her it’s an absolutely terrible idea and there’s nothing good at all that could come from a drunk Porter and Doris.

It’s on the tip of my tongue…

“Let’s do it.”

Slice Ten

Doris

Ican’t believe I said what I did.

Even more, I can’t believe he agreed.

But here we are, back at his house.

“If we’re going to drink, we need to do it at home.”

Home.

That meant his house. The one we now share.

Why did I ask for this again?

After stopping for a beer in the kitchen—because Porter insisted he’s not mixing beer and liquor tonight—he leads me upstairs to his office. It’s the one part of the house I haven’t yet been in. It feels wrong to intrude on his space, so I stay away.

It surprises me when my toes sink into carpet—the rest of the house has wood flooring.

When I ask him about it, he shrugs. “It just feels good on my feet when I’m spending the day sitting on my ass. I like the comfort of it.”

Fair enough.

I glance around the room and instantly curse myself for never making the trek up here.

I don’t care if it’s his personal space or not. That view is worth the risk of him finding out I’ve been up here.

Porter heads for a small shelf on one side of the room and I head for the balcony.

I step out into the night breeze, and the cool wind nearly takes my breath away.

“Holy…”

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