“I’m not off shit,” I say way too loud considering I’m in a church. I feel like my head is on fire and that the rest of me is seconds away from combusting. “This is the thing, Jim. I haven’t touched her. But I want to, damn it. I want to more than anything I’ve wanted in my life.”
His expression is muddled. “So what are you saying?”
I lean over, my fists tightening as I struggle for a breath. Holy fuck. When it all hits me it feels like my knees will give out.
“I’m saying that it’s not just the sex anymore, damn it. I’m falling for her. I can’t stop thinking about when I’ll see her next. So do me a favor, don’t fucking say anything about this being wrong, because to me, everything about her is right.”
“You’re falling for her?” he asks like I haven’t made myself clear. “Maybe you’ve confused blue balls with infatuation.”
I want to punch him . . . badly. How dare he belittle what I now know is one of the biggest realizations of my life? This is a game changer. I want Elle. Yeah, I want to have all the sex with her, but for the first time in my life I want her in my arms in the morning too. I want to watch her wake up, and smile when she sees I’m there.
“Does she know how you’re feeling?”
I shake my head and the insecurity starts creeping in. What if this isn’t welcome news to her? She seems very comfortable with us being friends. Besides I’ve already rejected her too many times. “What should I do?”
“If you really think this isn’t just about screwing her and that you want something more, then you should man up and talk to her. If she doesn’t feel the same, it’s best you know now before much more time passes and you get crazy in the head.”
That night I make up my mind to take Elle to dinner to talk to her about how I’m feeling. I’m going to play it kind of cool so she doesn’t feel cornered. Even if she is afraid to be rejected again, I can give her time to ease into the idea.
Or if she feels the way I do, things could happen fast. I grin to myself realizing that this is the best I’ve felt in a long time.
I consider taking her to a nice restaurant but then decide to be low-key. When I call to ask if she’ll come with me to my favorite barbeque place in Korea Town, she seems open to it.
“Is that where you pick out all your stuff in a bowl and they cook it in front of you?” she says.
“Yup, and this one’s really good.”
“Sounds like fun. I’ve always wanted to try that.”
I’m encouraged by how upbeat she sounds, and clearly she wasn’t already booked with the Viking or a Tinder hook-up so that’s another positive. “I’ll drive. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
That evening when I get to her house there’s no answer even though her car is in the driveway. I try to call her from my cell phone but it just rings and goes to voicemail. This isn’t like Elle. Worried, I let myself in the side gate and walk to the backyard to see if she’s sitting out back and didn’t hear the doorbell. The yard is empty and my anxiety goes into over gear when I notice the French doors facing her yard are open. I approach the door cautiously and peek inside.
The house is eerily still until I hear a tiny snore. I step inside so I can walk around to face the couch. Curled up into the pillows and covered by a fluffy blanket is my dinner date. She’s so damn cute I can’t help but smile.
She also looks so peaceful that I don’t want to wake her, so instead I settle into the adjoining love seat and peruse the new stack of books on the table. I smirk as I read the back summaries. At least she’s consistent in her taste. I’m particularly puzzled by the one where the guy has one hand on his bare chest and his other hand down his pants that are half undone—although in fairness I can’t tell what he’s trying to grab. Maybe it was his keys and he missed his pocket.
I glance over at Elle who is still deep in slumber so I crack open the cover. Maybe once I start reading I’ll understand why this dude, Steele, likes to have his hand deep in his pants.
This book starts out slower than the last one. The first chapter doesn’t have any sex at all, but that all seems likely to change when Steele is released from prison after serving time for vehicular manslaughter. Well, at least I now understand why his hand was in his pants. Self love is the best choice by far if you’re in prison.
So his childhood bestie, Ricky, who happens to be a real hottie now, picks him up in her battered pick-up and agrees to let him stay at her place until he gets back on his feet. Naturally she’s a bartender by night and dancer by day.
By chapter two she helps Steele get a job doing maintenance at the dance studio although apparently he spends more time watching Ricky dance from the sidelines than actually cleaning.
By chapter three there’s still no sex just a lot of uncomfortable staring at each other’s body parts and Steele thinking dirty thoughts.
I’m really losing interest. Finally I notice that Elle left a bookmark further back in the book, and when I go to check it out it’s noticeable that the spine is loose at this section. Apparently my little vixen has read this part more than once.
And I can see why. Three pages in and my cock is wide awake. So much for Steele and Ricky being besties. I guess the ten previous chapters leading up to this one had enough tension to fuel a number of epic sex scenes in a row. Even I’m worn out by the last scene that involves dirty dancing, and shower sex so wild it sounds dangerous. I’m guessing by the fold in the page that Elle really liked this scene, too.
I glance over at her just when her eyes flutter open. From the way her eyes bug out when she sees me and her mouth falls open, I guess I’ve startled her.
“Oh my God! How long have you been here?” she asks, as she lifts herself upright. Her hair is doing a wild dance all over her head and she has the pillow’s texture imprinted on her cheek.
I smile at her. “A little while. I didn’t want to wake you, you looked so peaceful.”
“That was nice of you.”
She stretches her arms up over her head and my eyes trail down to the little patch of skin revealed where her shirt lifted. Her skin looks velvety soft. I wonder how it’d feel to touch it, even press my lips against it . . .
“I’ve been sleeping on and off all day.” She lets out a huge yawn.
I reach over and rest my hand on her cool forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”
“No, I feel fine. Just tired I guess.” She spies the book in my hand. “Hey, were you reading my smut again?”
I hold up the book. “Yeah, the ex-con one. I think I found your favorite chapter. I didn’t know you were into ex-cons.”
“I’m not usually. This one just had special qualities.” She gives me a wink. “I’m starving. Let’s go eat!”
We’re loaded in the car when she turns to me. “Hey, how into the barbeque thing are you?”
“I’m not married to the idea, why? Would you rather go somewhere else?”
“I’m craving a Double-Double something fierce.”
“In-N-Out?” I ask, scrunching my face. I immediately think of how unromantic those white Formica booths are and realize that this night isn’t going the way I’d hoped. But I look over and her face is lit up. How can I turn her down?
“Could we?” she asks with those big doe eyes. Her hair is still crazy and I reach over to smooth it down.
“Okay, sure,” I say.
She claps her hands like a kid and I grin as I pull onto the street.
I’ve never seen Elle eat like this. She’s suddenly a truck driver in a petite package. She polishes off the Double-Double, a chocolate shake, her fries, and half of mine. I finally pull the fries away. “Slow down. You’re going to make yourself sick.”
She snags another fry and waves it toward me. “Yeah, and can you believe I was throwing up this morning! Fast recovery, right?”
“What do you mean you were throwing up? Did you eat something bad?”
“I guess so. I’ve been off all week. Maybe I’m fighting a little virus or something. I just want to sleep and eat all the time.”
As I watch her drain her milkshake my mind starts to wander with disturbing thoughts. I’ve been around women enough to pick up on the myriad of weird body stuff they suffer through due to their crazy, ever-changing hormones. What she’s just described sounds like a particular combination of symptoms. Oh Jesus. Could she be pregnant? As soon as I think of it I feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach. Is fate this big of a bitch . . . is this the worst timing in my life? The night I was finally ready to ask her for more, could be the night where her life turns another direction without me in it. My fingers tighten along the edges of the tabletop.