Page 8 of Space Balls: Houston, We Have Liftoff
I let him, knowing just how far in the bed is but pretending to be surprised when my legs bump into it, falling back onto my elbows a bit more dramatically than needed.
“Careful.” He tosses the dress on the bench at the foot of the bed, along with his suit jacket, and leans over me.
I’m so sure he’s going to kiss me I close my eyes. But he doesn’t.
“Shit.” The weight dips as he pushes off the mattress.
I open my eyes to see him closing and locking the door.
I tilt my head, enjoying the nervousness radiating off a man used to strapping himself on top of two million pounds of rocket fuel. “Are we safe now?”
“Who knows, but at least we won’t be caught ass out if one of the Wests decides to retire early.”
“Retire early?” I snort. “I was joking before, but seriously, how oldareyou?” I only called him old man because usually astronauts are in their thirties at the start of their career. Which isn’t old, but it’s definitely olderthan me.
He pulls his tie free. “For God’s sake, I’m not old.” In a few short tugs, his buttons are undone and his shirt pulled from his trousers. And holy moly how did I not notice the elephant in the room until now?
And by elephant, I mean his dick.
’Cause it is pointing right at me, and even under the restriction of wool gabardine, it’s impressive.
I lick my lips. “That for me?”
If a sigh, a grunt, and a growl had a baby, that would be the sound Bodie makes, his eyes lasered on my lips.
“Don’t stop now.” I nod toward his pants.
He shrugs the rest of the way out of his dress shirt, revealing tanned, toned abs and a gloriously dark happy trail that make me calling him old man comical. I bite my lip in anticipation of the main reveal as he toes out of his shoes and undoes his belt.
Did you ever have a sixth sense about something? Like you just knew something good or bad was about to happen? Like when you find yourself drunk in the backseat of a shitty Honda driven by a blonde with glasses and you just feel all will be right with the world? Or when your brother’s ex-girlfriend shows up at the bar and you know shit is about to go down? And by go down, I mean getting handcuffed and having to call your lawyer. You know, a street-smart premonition power?
No? Well, whatever. I have that feeling now. Like, as soon as Mr. Astronaut reveals his dick, my life is going to be changed forever. I push up off my elbows and unhook my bra, wanting to be ready for whatever life-changing event is about to take place. My roll of fifties and a condom fall to the bedspread.
But instead of dropping trou, the damn man stands stock still, staring at my boobs.
I don’t really get the power of boobs. I mean, I wield it, because, duh, who wouldn’t? It’s like a God-given female power play to balance out the patriarchy. But I still don’t get it. Like, how are fat orbs that are milked to feed children a sex organ?
“Damn.” It’s Bodie’s turn to lick his lips.
I widen my legs, beckoning him over. And thankfully he doesn’t hesitate because these heels are heavy as hell, and I don’t have the ab strength to hold them up very long.
He puts his hands under my arms and lifts me, dragging me farther onto the bed. He doesn’t even grunt at my weight.
That’s hot.
Head lying upon the pillows, I’m caged in, Bodie braced above me, our mouths inches apart.
It hits me that we haven’t even kissed yet. At least not lip to lip on his part. And, for some reason, that makes me sad.
Taking charge, I reach up, running my hands though his hair, my nails raking over his scalp. He closes his eyes and moans.
Promising myself I’ll pay more attention to core work in the future, I crunch up and kiss him.
My first thought is how thankful I am he kept his eyes shut and didn’t see me struggle.
My second is how soft his lips are.
Quickly followed by third, which it isn’t so much that his lips are soft, but rather the actual kiss is tender. Sweet. At odds with what I thought it was going to be—hard and dirty. I melt into it.
