Page 208 of Falling Backwards
Man, what I’d give for that….
What I’d give to even be able to just sit quietly and really think back on all of it.
I’ve done my fair share of fantasizing about her lately, but not for a minute did I think I’d end up making her come from simply, randomly making out in the middle of the night.When that happened, it hit me harder than any other intimate moment I’ve ever had with anyone else.It was fucking incredible.Of course, everything in the minutes before had been so good too—holding her so close while we kissed, finding out just how well her body fit beneath mine, being able to let my hand explore her—but then there wasthat.Her sudden gasp and the way she said my name while her hips went up against mine like we were…likeI was….
We were fully clothed and I wasn’t trying to do anything but kiss the hell out of her, and I still made her come.She was bashful about it, I think, but I don’t know why because I thought it washot.Special.It was something that was just for me, that happened because of how she felt with me.
God, I didn’t even have her on my fingers when it happened, or my tongue or—
The wet splash of something over my hand startles me out of my thoughts; I’ve gotten a little messy with the bourbon.
Shit, I can’t think like this right now.
But it’s hard not to do.It’s hard not to think ahead to someday when Iwillbe able to feel her properly—and even better, even hotter—in times like that.And it’s hard not to let my mind go back over how she did touchmeand how my control was weak at her hand and how I didn’t really care because as much as I didn’t want it to be over so quickly, I also wanted like a motherfucker for her to wreck me with pleasure like I’d done to her.
Oh, did she.
I tune back in to the present as I’m setting the prepared Old Fashioneds on the bar where they can be picked up and taken to their table.I take a few seconds to glance over them and note that I managed to make two perfect-looking drinks while I was lost in my head.The glasses aren’t even wet with the spilled bourbon, and neither am I anymore.
Good job, me.
I can do better, though, and I need to.There are other orders waiting to be fulfilled.
My eyes drift to the hostess stand and find Maggie there, talking on her work phone while she taps around on the iPad.But her being busy doesn’t stop her from glancing up and over here.Her eyes find me, too, and this time, I don’t only get a smile and a scrolling look from her but also a little wave.
I reciprocate it all before I turn back to my work.
But I’m reminded that earlier she confessed to loving me wearing these work suspenders.Even at a distance, the look she just sent me has me daydreaming about—and wondering ifsheever daydreams about—her pulling them off me…followed by the rest of my….
Focus up,I tell myself.
Can’t actually manage to feeltooguilty about having been so distracted, though, because…well, who could blame me?
I’d be willing to bet that not even Ms.Goody Two-Shoes could.
After all, it’sherwarm, heartfelt, delicious gorgeousness that I can’t get out of my head.
—
Ah, yep, since the Thanksgiving holiday is officially over, my and Maggie’s plan for her to stay with me is already at its end.It’s evening now, so her friends are back from their trips and done with any work shifts they, too, had to see to today; their apartment has its usual tenants again.
There is no need for her to return to mine.
I don’t like that she’s not coming home with me again.Didn’t like it when we went ahead and took her stuff back to her place this morning after breakfast and some exercise.Won’t like it for real and for sure here in a few minutes when our drive away from work puts us in her parking lot.
I’m not sure how to say it to her.It’s not that I think we should move in with each other so soon, but…I don’t know.I just….
Actually, it’s that line of thinking that puts the words in my mouth.
“I miss you at my place,” I say over the music playing.“Already.”
Maggie reaches over and turns down the volume.I stop at a red light, then look over and catch her expression in that very glow through the darkness.And I sigh at how her bottom lip is folded shyly into her mouth in that way I like.
Then it’s suddenly set free and she’s smiling shyly instead, letting out a tiny laugh—I wonder if she’s remembering, like I am, how I recently blurted out that her doing her lip like that does something tome.
“Sorry,” she says, and I know she is remembering it.
“Trying to make me a distracted driver,” I tease her.
