Page 67 of Dear Pink

We round the lake bend, and he slows to stop at our bench where he found me desperately researching how to fix a flat tire. The memory was two hundred years ago, before he kissed me, before I could back draft him, and before the countless orgasms. I flush, remembering his weight on me.

“You ride faster these days,” he says, taking off his bike helmet.

“Yeah, I’m far from your speed, but I’m much stronger.” He lifts the pink bike out of my hands and leans it against his leg. “I also don’t bike everywhere I go.” I tease.

Gabe yanks me into his lap and kisses me deeply, drawing slow circles on my shoulder and sending shivers through my body. This guy knows exactly how to kiss me senseless. I forget we’re in the middle of our training cycle with a million families milling around the lake. He kisses more intensely and uses his tongue, tangling with mine, sucking and licking, and spreading warmth. I moan for more. When he withdraws, I glance around, reorienting myself. I might officially approve of public indecency, as we are willing participants.

He smirks, also noticing we’re on a public bench making out.

Wiping away a bead of sweat on my brow, I exhale loudly. “You're irresistible in your bike outfit today, Mr. Fancy.” I kiss his neck.

“Irresistible?” Gabe chuckles. “Not sure anyone would consider bike clothes hot.” He pinches my butt. “Well, except on you, Pink.”

I fan my face dramatically. “Well, your shorts do it for me.”

He stands and spins in front of me, showing off his assets. “Like what you see?” I swat him on the butt. “By the way,” he says, “don’t buy a bike rack. I have an extra. I must admit, though, I will miss watching you shove your bike in that tiny hatchback.”

I kick at him with my feet. “Are you laughing at my profound puzzle skills?”

“Whoa. That’s what you call it? Solving a puzzle?”

“Yeah, like Jenga.”

Gabe stretches his arms above his head, and I poke him in his hard abs. “Hey, no tickling.” He grabs my wrists and hoists me off the bench. “Let’s finish our ride and head to lunch. I’m starving.”

“Lunch? You mean brunch, don’t you?” I squint at my watch. “How do you feel about brunch?” I ask, mimicking him from the day with my flat tire.

“I eat brunch.” He gives me flirty eyes, catching on. It’s a stand-off.

“You wannaeat brunchwith me?” I ask, hoping he gets my true meaning.

I’m hungry for much more than brunch. He called me his girlfriend, but it feels unreal. I’m in a serious relationship with Mr. Fancy, but I still feel as if I have huge relationship puppy paws I haven't grown into yet.

I gaze at this remarkable man who wants me and realize our connection is nothing close to my relationship with Jack-Hat. We were two kids playing a couple, emphasis onplaying. Gabe isn’t playing at anything or hiding secrets.

“I wannaeatall my brunches with you, Pink.” He grabs me around the waist and brings me into his body. There’s no space between us, and his hard muscles press against me.

“I wannaeat. . .” I whisper the rest into his ear.

Gabe gulps, cocking an eyebrow. “Let’s skip brunch.”

“You should refuel after this ride and before . . . the next one.”

“You’re killing me, Pink.” I feel his arousal and chuckle.

“That’s my plan.”

***

“Must have coffee,” I say as Gabe eyes an empty booth at my favorite diner. The air conditioner blasts super cold air, and we both sigh in relief. The waiter comes quickly, and we order coffee, skillet potatoes, and a fried egg.

“Is Homer adjusting to his upscale tank?”

“He loves it. I love him.”

“You loved him before we got to PetSmart.”

“Yeah. I love many things about our shopping expedition.”

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