As we make one last pit stop just before hitting the congestion of the city, I take a deep breath of the very familiar air, and on the ride through Denver toward the mountains I quietly take in the beauty of this amazing place. I do feel like I’m home here, but there is also something incredibly depressing about this realization. The mountains, usually so beautiful and inviting, seem sad and foreboding. It’s as if my love for this place is slipping away from me in some small way. My dreams of living here, once so vibrant and beckoning, are suddenly foggy and filled with insecurity. The neighborhoods I’ve fallen in love with and planned to make my home in one day suddenly seem uninviting and foreign. I want to love this place as much as I always have, but I feel more like a petulant and resentful child instead.
After unloading the SUV at the condo in Frisco, I escape to my bedroom to unpack before we head out for dinner. I wonder what she’s doing right now. I wonder if she’s thinking about me as much as I seem to think about her all the time. I wonder if this time apart is as hard for her as it is for me. Then my cell rings, and the caller ID implies she must have been reading my mind. My heart races for a moment, in that juvenile school boy sort of way I’ve gotten so used to, and the first sound of her voice on the other end soothes every last shred of discontentment from my mind.
We talk as long as we can before the guys are hollering for me to get my ass in gear and out the door, and I hate to let her go. I feel more at ease than I have all day just having had the chance to hear her voice again. And when we get out of the house to the hole in the wall sports bar we visit every time we’re in town, I remarkably end up having a great time. For a while, I almost feel like my old self again—engaged in the here and now, rather than feeling like I’ve left my brain back in Allendale. But then, it was only after talking to Rowan that I was able to relax and enjoy myself here in the mountains… So, was I really my old self again, or just living on my high from her? When we finally close down the bar after two in the morning, I realize I have a text message from her. “Thought about sleeping in my bed, but decided I’d rather be in yours. Hope you don’t mind… Have a great week.”
I’m a little too drunk not to respond. “So long as you leave your pajamas in your own room. They have no place in mine. Sleep tight.”
Waking to his text message is the very best way to start my day, and as much as I miss him, I feel good—really good. I’m working all week long, and it promises to be a busy week. I’ve picked up extra shifts and should be sitting on a fairly nice size piggy bank by the end of the week. Sara and I spend any free time I have together, shopping, eating, watching movies, all of our most favorite things. She’s still wary of my recent distance, and every other question out of her mouth is some searching seeking question about my life.
“So are you seeing someone?” God bless her and her ever-invasive questions.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I would tell you if I was seeing someone.”
I’m lying and she damn well knows it. “Then you won’t mind if I set you up with someone.” She takes in the look of horror on my face before continuing. “You might like him. He’s cute and he’s friends with Frank.” Frank's her latest and greatest.
“You absolutely will not set me up with anyone, Sara.” My tone is exasperated but good-natured. She’s trying to get a rise out of me.
“So you were just getting ready to tell me who it is you’re seeing then?” I curse her greatest gift, persistence, as I shake my head in feigned confusion, hoping it comes off honestly.
She eventually moves on and asks about how things are going with my father. She asks if anything new is going on at work. But she keeps going back to the love interest angle. Were it not her brother for whom I was smitten, I would want nothing more than to describe every last detail of my new love life with her, but I’m guessing it would be inappropriate to tell her what an amazing kisser Logan is. She gleans nothing new from me and finally gives up the interrogation and resorts to just having a good time. And we do have a good time.
By the following Saturday night I’ve put away a little over $600 in nice, tax-free tip money. Logan should be arriving home by the next evening, and I’m practically salivating at the thought of him coming through the door. It’s quiet in his apartment; too quiet. All of the windows are open as I try to air out the remnants of my latest tragic kitchen experiment, and even the sound from the streets below isn’t helping to fill the void. I fall asleep early in his bed, wanting to fast forward the rest of the weekend. The sheets still smell of him, and I fall asleep dreaming of his hands and the way they feel on my skin.
I’ve been known to have the occasional good idea, but this might be the best one so far. I threw out the idea of leaving Colorado Saturday afternoon and taking turns driving through the night not really expecting to get much support. To my surprise, not one person disagreed. And I was high fiving myself while hastily packing for the next hour. It seems no one really felt like hanging out for the evening, when we would just be rising early to hit the road Sunday morning.
By the time we finally hit Allendale at seven o’clock on Sunday morning, my body is on fire. The seventeen-hour trip home was plenty of time for me to work my dick into an absolute frenzy about seeing Rowan again. I’ve missed her all week, and closing every mile between us has culminated in the most exquisite sexual tension I have ever experienced. When I’m finally dropped off at my apartment, I must look like a ravenous dog to the guys. I hop the stairs two at a time and dump my bags at the entry.
As I enter my bedroom, I see her sleeping peacefully and deeply, and my heart breathes an incredible sigh of relief being back in her presence. The early morning light shines in through the window, illuminating her in the most sensuous way. She looks stunning, and in the quietness of my room I take my time studying her, itching to touch her but enjoying my private show all the same. Her hair is its beautiful shade of auburn, shining silkily from the early morning sunlight filtering in. It is long and cascades over her shoulders as she lies on her stomach. Her skin is smooth and pale. Her lips are soft, pink, and very supple, just slightly parted in sleep. Obviously heeding my drunken text message, she is completely and utterly naked. She has her knee bent slightly up, and the angle makes the round globes of her perfect bottom all the more appealing. I can’t help but imagine burying myself in her there as well and am suddenly alarmed at how fully I want to possess her, all of her, every last inch, every last entry, claimed and belonging solely to me.
I climb gently onto the bed next to her, determined to make up for my week-long absence. And as I trail my fingers over the skin of her calf, I study her face for the first sign of her waking. When her eyes open sleepily, shock and then absolute joy take over her beautiful face. She launches herself into my arms, determined to end our separation in an instant. I pull her body into mine, kissing her ferociously. Before long, she is straddling me, and her mouth has become greedy and desperate.
I allow my mouth to wander down to one breast, and then the other, always returning quickly to her mouth. I need so desperately to see her eyes, as though they calm my soul in some way. I pull my T-shirt quickly over my head as she starts fumbling with the zipper of my jeans. Our passion is healing to us both, and we are quickly carried away by it. I lay her swiftly on the bed as I pull my body up close to hers. My cock is pulsing in anticipation of her first touch, and as her hand slides under the waist of my underwear and meets the engorged head, my cock flexes and nearly jumps out of her reach. I make quick work getting out of my jeans as she starts to stroke and caress my rigid shaft. Her eyes watch mine, hungry, beseeching, and smoldering.