Page 122 of The Surprise Play
She’d follow me home from school sometimes and ask, “Did you fall over there? Oh, and there too. Oh wow,look at the size of that one! That’s definitely a hippo crack.”
Before I could spiral too far back in my memory, Wily walked through the door, his arms piled high with goodies and first aid supplies.
And now he’s carefully checking out my knee, and I’m melting on the end of his bed.
“Is it still sore?” he gently asks, his tone soft and husky.
“A little,” I admit, my breath catching when he starts to dab the outer edge with antiseptic. “But I’ll be okay.”
He smiles up at me, glancing away from my knee for a second. “It’s okay to hurt, baby.”
This soft, self-deprecating laugh pops out of me, but I quickly suck the sound back in. “I just don’t want to make a big deal of it. All this fuss for just a little graze.”
He smiles, lightly blowing on my damaged skin and sending my insides into a frenzy. His fingers skim down my leg, and I can’t breathe. Seriously. I can’t breathe.
Letting me go, he rustles through the kit, pulling out a large Band-Aid and testing the size on my knee before peeling the backing off and delicately applying it to my skin.
His fingers feel so good. His touch is so delicate, yet I can feel it through every fiber of my being.
He’s never touched my legs before. Not without fabric in the way, and his hand resting on my thigh like this… his thumb caressing me while he softly kisses the spot around that bandage…
My insides quiver.
“I like looking after you,” he murmurs, trailing his lipsto the top of my knee and kissing a spot there too. “I want to make you feel better, Satch.”
“You do,” I quickly tell him. “I just have to look at you and life gets a little brighter.”
His eyes land on mine then, sparkling with appreciation.
Setting the ice pack aside, I skim my fingers down his face, my heart rate accelerating as my mind flies to places I’ve been dreaming about. Images of naked bodies. Wily lying on top of me, giving me something I’ve never experienced before.
The pads of his fingers are still resting on my thigh, and I never want him to stop. I want those fingers to keep traveling, exploring, touching. My skin is sizzling for it, begging him to make me feel this good all over.
I wish I could say that to him, but I don’t know how to find the words.
All I can do is lean forward and kiss him.
He meets me halfway, his soft mouth melting against mine like it always does.
I love kissing him.
I love his hands on my body.
I want more.
I’ve been wanting more ever since our first date, but I don’t know how to ask.
How do I say that I want to feel his body moving over mine with no clothes in the way?
Every time he touches me, he goes a little further, and I’m internally crying out for more, but then he’ll pull away, not wanting to push it.
But maybe I want him to push it this time.
Running my hands down to his neck, I deepen thekiss, then splay my hands over his shoulders before holding my breath and tugging on his shirt.
It’s a bold move I’ve never tried before, but I can’t back out now. He knows exactly what I’m silently asking.
Pinging away from me, he checks my face, his eyes lighting with excitement as I tug at his shirt again. Helping me out, he pulls it over his head, flinging it on the floor. I stare at his perfect body, reaching out for those pecs… mesmerized by his defined ridges.
