Page 46 of Afterglow
“Good girl.” The accidental praise has me hiding my face in my hands and my swelling cock behind the island counter.
Bea brings both hands to her mouth in a languid motion like that one shocked Barbie GIF. “My, my, my.” She tugs her shirt away from her neck, fake-cooling off.
“I didn’t…mean to say that.”
“Too late,” Bea teases. “It’s stored in my memory forever. It’s gonna come in handy one lonely night.”
Sweat beads at my temples at the idea of Behraz touching herself at the thought of me praising her. The devilish smile across her face widens as she reaches for the date jar on the kitchen island. It rattles when she offers it to me. “Wanna choose? Or want me to choose?”
I close my eyes and grab a stick, narrowing my eyes to read the small handwriting. “What’s tufting?”
“You’re about to find out.”
While I unlock the door, Bea hugs a tufted rainbow rug with smiley faces on the end clouds. “This is the cutest thing ever.” She snuggles it once more. “I love it so much.” The tufted yarn bends under the sweep of her hand. “It’s gonna go next to my bed so my feet don’t have to touch the cold flooring first thing in the morning.”
Behraz could make me her bedside rug any time. I walk with her across the living room. “No hot girl dinner today?”
“That gelatowasthe hot girl dinner.”
“I see.”
“Fletcher,” she starts, chewing on a corner of her beautiful lower lip. “I really, really,reallywanna kiss you.”
There it is. The beginning of the end.
“Oh.”
This is what you wanted, Fletch. You want this.
“Are you scared?”
“Terrified.”
“Of me?”
I reject the idea.
“You scared it might not be good?”
“A little.” Yeah, what if I suck at kissing? I’d rather throw myself off a cliff than suck at kissing Behraz Irani.
“Okay, that’s understandable. It’s new and unknown. I mean, unless you don’t want to kiss me?—”
I half-sit on the arm of the sectional. “It’s definitely not that.”
She drops the rug to the floor and puts her hands around mine. “Then?”
“The bigger problem is that I…I’ve imagined this for a long time.”
“First kisses are special, I get it.” Bea plays with my fingers, stretching and curling them over hers.
“They are. But I meant with you.”
“We only met last month.” She steps between my bent knees.
All I can do is shrug. The admission is too hard.
“You’ve wanted me…longer?” Bea pries. “Months?” Her face tilts in question, so close I can taste the strawberry gelato on her breath. “Years?”
