Page 56 of The Yes Factor

“So, Mom starts slicing the pie and passing the plates around, and one by one we each dig into our pie. And you see everyone kinda grimace and look at each other like—” Devon makes his eyes go wide with a WTF expression.

“Oh God! What? What happened?” I’m already half laughing because I know this is going to end badly.

“There was a layer of wax paper between the filling and the pie crust, and the crust was completely raw. We totally busted her for store-bought crusts! All these years ‘from scratch,’ busted! She was mortified but insisted we eat the filling like a chocolate pudding.” He is laughing and shaking his head in remembrance and I’m grinning at him, loving everything about this man and this moment. “My family will never let her live that one down!”

Devon pauses, and then his eyes meet mine. The room stills in a moment of reverence as he puts down his wineglass. My own glass had been drained and set aside during his story so my empty hands fidget as I nervously rub the dry skin of my cuticles, trying to calm my reawakened nerves.

We’re facing each other on the couch and the room seems to spin away. I know what’s coming and I feel like I might burst. I’m torn between wanting to rush things, to feel him now but also wanting everything to slow down, for this moment to be frozen in time so I can savor the delicious anticipation.

Devon reaches out his strong hand to trail his fingers alongside my face, and my lips part with lust as I lean into his hand. He tilts his head forward to graze his lips across my neck, gently inhaling me. His lips are so light that I’m silently begging for him to devour me, but at the same time I want to see how our rhythm builds naturally. I moan as his lips continue their journey across my neck, up behind my ear. He inhales the scent of me and rustles my hair as he takes my hair out of the confines of a ponytail. God, this feels so good. I could do just this for hours but the pressure building inside me is too powerful. My breath shortens in anticipation as his lips come closer to mine again. We kissed on the cliff earlier tonight, but that felt tame and sweet, a tentative first touch, a testing of the fire. Now that we’re alone in the privacy of my home, I want to go further. I want our spark to build into flames. I’ve never wanted anyone this badly and my body is lighting up with need.

I slowly stretch out my legs and lean back onto the couch, my mouth drawing him down with me. The energy of his body on mine. I wrap one leg around him, yearning to bring my hips closer to his, wanting to feel if he’s as turned on as I am. I’m pulsing with need and close my eyes as our kiss deepens, his tongue in an adagio with mine. I want this dance to go further and my couch, which is feeling smaller by the minute, is not the stage for our performance. As I adjust my legs and wrap my arms tighter around him, Devon ungracefully falls off the couch, just barely missing the coffee table. I laugh then shriek when I realize he’s grabbed on to my shirt and is pulling me down on top of him.

“Well, looks like Pottery Barn lied. This couch isn’t big enough for two people!” I laugh out. “Come on.” I awkwardly get back on my feet. I reach out my hand, and leaning back, use all my strength to pull him up to a standing position. I lose my breath again, feeling small beside his towering magnificence. I step into his body, pressing my breasts to his chest and look up at his lips before meeting his glowing dark eyes. I’m exploding with a potent combination of nerves and lust as I grab on to the waistband of his jeans. “Let’s go upstairs,” I whisper.

He agrees, not with words, but with his hands, his breath, his lips crushing mine.

* * *

Okay, Bex. He is amazing; you are ready for this and it’s gonna be incredible. I left Devon panting on my bed, fully clothed, excusing myself to the bathroom for a quick pep talk, and pee. It’s not that I don’t want to do this, God, I really want to do this, but I need a moment to check in with myself, and to check that I still have some condoms stashed away in that small Estee Lauder makeup bag I got as a free gift from Macy’s years ago. Yes! They’re still there, and they’re not expired. Thank goodness this is happening now and not in two months!

There was a time in my life when I thought sex on the first date was slutty. Overall, reckless and wild. But I’m my own woman, damn it, and I haven’t had sex in years. Years! I’m old enough to decide who I want to have sex with and when. I may have acted somewhat impulsively with Mr. Oscar Mayer Felon a few days ago, but even then, I knew what I was getting into and I knew my limits. But this is different. Devon feels like something real. This is not a dating experiment. This is not a “Just Say Yes” moment that I’m talking myself into. I’m checking in with my heart about this and my heart, and my lady bits, want Devon with a red-hot burning need.

I take a small swish of Listerine, pull off my top and adjust my modest Victoria’s Secret bra for maximum cleavage before I turn off the bathroom light and open the door. There’s a glow from the full moon and the streetlights, so I don’t need to turn on my bedside lamp. Devon is sitting on the edge of my bed, a powerful silhouette focused on me.

“Takeoffyourshirt,” I whisper to him seductively, streaming the words together in a sexy command.

“What?” he sounds a bit affronted and doesn’t make a move.

I say it louder this time while trying to keep the sexiness in my voice, “Takeoffyourshirt.” I’m loving this bossy side of me! I feel like a dominating sex kitten and slink over to him. I read a scene like this in a romance novel once and thought it was so hot. But it is kind of hard to sexy-whisper loud enough for someone to hear it across the room.

“Bex, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why would you say that?” Devon’s face is scrunched up in confusion. The guy in the romance novel definitely didn’t respond like that.

I stop in my tracks, suddenly feeling nervous and embarrassed about the situation. I give him a puzzled look. “Why would I say what?”

“Why would you say ‘dick, you’re assured’? I thought things were going well, but this is kind of strange.” He moves to stand up. “Maybe I should just go.”

“No! Wait, don’t go! I was saying ‘take off your shirt.’” I enunciate every syllable, this time in a loud and clear voice, the opposite of my sexy-whisper. “You know, trying to have you do a sexy strip thing? Trying to be a seductive, sexy woman in charge? I don’t know.” I cross my arms over my cleavage, trying to shield myself from the embarrassment. “Like, trying to…act like…I know what I’m doing.”

Devon breaks out into a full-on belly laugh. He can hardly keep himself upright, he’s laughing so hard. I sink even further into my shame. “I feel stupid. I’m sorry.”

He pulls himself together and reaches for my hand, pulling me between his thighs. “Bex, it’s okay. Don’t apologize. I’m flattered by what you were trying to do, but I think the point is, you don’t have to try. You don’t need to act sexy because you are sexy.”

I close my eyes and bite the inside of my cheek, wondering how the hell he could think I’m sexy after all this. I feel like an awkward teenager who’s never even kissed someone. “Bex, it’s okay. Everything you are is enough. Let’s just relax and do what comes naturally and give each other some grace. It’s been a long time for the both of us.” With that, I feel his strong arms embrace me as he lies back on the bed and pulls me on top of him. We instantly bump heads, and this time I burst out laughing.

“Weren’t you just saying something about ‘grace’?” I tease, and he laughs good-naturedly. I rub my forehead and roll to the side, reveling at the sight of his smile in the moonlight. There is a pause. And the proverbial “reset button” is pressed.

Devon kisses me deeply, then slowly peels his shirt off. My white sheets makes his skin stand out in a beautiful contrast. His kiss feels warm and magnetic—I can’t get enough.

After a passionate make-out session, our clothing eventually disappears and we lose ourselves in each other.

“Bex, you are a treasure.”

* * *

Devon had to get up early and head home, but not before he ravished me again, for the third time, I should add. It may have been over four years since I’ve had a roll in the hay, but I have a feeling that Devon and I will make up for that lost time pretty quickly.

After he left, I didn’t shower right away, wanting his smell to linger on my skin for a little while longer. I get chills just thinking of his body next to mine, and the memory of his touch makes me weak with desire. And now, I’m having trouble focusing on the matter at hand, which is making my morning coffee. I’m floating around the kitchen in a groggy, gleeful post magic glow, relishing the memory of Devon all over me.

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