“I’m good,” she nodded – flashing that adorable smile where she gazed up at me like I was some kind of freakin’ hero. I hope that never fades. More to the point I need to stop waiting for it to fade. Emily is like no other person I’ve ever met. There is no confectionary category for her – she’s made up of the most delicious parts of every piece of candy ever invented. Somehow, every second I spend with her she amazes me a little more. I can do ‘this’ with her.
I have to.
When we got back to my place Emily asked if she could jump in the shower to wake herself up. I purposely ignored her. I’ve told her countless times she doesn’t need to ask about shit like that. She got the message pretty quickly and after five minutes or so, I heard the roar of the hot water pipes cranking to life. Feeling bad about the way I reacted with Jared earlier I pulled my cell from my pocket and sent him a text.
Me: I acted like a jerk b4. Sorry. Hope all ok with ur dad
I tossed my cell onto the arm of the couch assuming he’d be too busy playing the doting son to reply. Guess I was wrong.
Jared: Had an angina attack whateva that is. Apparently it’s not as bad as a heart attack so that’s cool. No worries mate. Uve always been a twat I’m used to it
Laughing off his reply I threw my cell back where I got it from. I was happy with the news about his dad – it meant I didn’t have to feel guilty about feeling so fucking unbelievably fantastic right now. The shower was still running and I figured Emily might want to change into something more comfortable so I headed to my room and plucked a t-shirt and clean boxers out of my drawers.
I took them to the bathroom and tapped a light knock onto the door. She didn’t answer and I assumed it was down to the noise of the running water obscuring the sound so I pried the door open slowly and walked inside anyway.
“I’m not looking!” I announced as I walked over to the small shelf above the basin. I was lying obviously. You seriously expect me not to take a peek, knowing the sexiest living creature I’ve ever laid my eyes on was standing dripping wet and naked just inches away from me? Besides, I told myself stealing a quick once-over was acceptable seeing as technically I didn’t get to see any of the good stuff – just a silhouette. But fuck me that was one hell of a silhouette. “I’ve got some clean stuff here for you to change into. I’ll leave it just here on the shelf.” I spoke loudly, trying to outdo those goddamn rusty pipes which were screaming in protest against the hot water flowing through them.
“Thanks! I’ll just be a minute!” she replied, the tone of her voice so chirpy it sounding almost like she was singing.
About five minutes later Emily emerged from the bathroom and every drop of blood in my body rocketed straight to the bulge in my pants. Sweet holy fuck. Emily was the first woman I’d ever seen dressed in my clothes and in that moment I knew for certain she would be the last. My favorite black t-shirt rested just below her ass, even though she was trying to tug it down further as she walked towards me with those easy to embarrass cheeks pinking when she looked at me. Unfortunately, my boxers covered a little extra flesh below that and I could only imagine (and by fuck did I imagine) what the skin of her thighs looked like above them.
I patted the couch next to me for her to join me and after giving the t-shirt one final tug she settled down next to me. There was too much space between us however so I patted it again and then smiled as she shimmied nearer – never releasing the hem of the shirt from her fingers.
“Drink,” I ordered with a knowing smile, handing her the mug of strong black coffee I made while she was in the shower.
“Ugh. I can’t stand black coffee,” she grumbled.
“I don’t care. I can guarantee you won’t be able to stand the almighty hangover you’re gonna have in the morning even more,” I replied. “Now drink.”
Grudgingly she brought the steaming mug to her lips and took a generous sip. Naturally she complained when she lowered it back down but I put my hand underneath and moved it back up towards her mouth.
“You always roll your eyes so much?” I asked playfully when she did just that. “Or is that something you have on reserve just for me?”
“You and Rachel,” she admitted. “You two are the most infuriating people on the planet.”
“Yet you can’t seem to stay away from us huh?”
“Yeah well I’m all for helping out with care in the community,” she quipped. She took a couple more sips of coffee, whining louder after each one, and then slammed it down on the table in front of us defiantly. “I’m not drinking anymore,” she said resolutely. “I feel fine now anyway.” I eyed her up curiously. She did look pretty fine – and not just in that way – but it made no sense how such a novice drinker could recover so quickly. She’d downed enough alcohol to drown a small army tonight.
The silence that followed was as awkward as it was deafening. There were things that needed to be said which I think we were both equally afraid to say. The one pounding in my ears however was, ‘where do we go from here?’
“Where do we go from here?” No freakin’ way. Emily asked nervously, fiddling with the hem of my t-shirt above her knees.
“Where do you want us to go from here?”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Well it’s the only one I got for you, doll. It has to be your decision.” She pursed her eyebrows together, both confusion and frustration washing over her porcelain face.
“And what exactly is my ‘decision’?” Sighing heavily, I wracked my mind in search of the answer I thought she wanted from me.
“Doll, you know I’ve messed up. You know I’ve done some bad shit but the truth is you don’t know the half of it…” Her plump lips parted slightly and she bowed her head, letting the wet red curls fall across her face. “And… I just can’t tell you those things yet,” I confessed. “I know that’s selfish of me and by God I know that you deserve more from me… but… I just can’t. Therefore if you can’t deal with that – which I totally wouldn’t blame you for – then you should walk away.”
“You said ‘yet’,” she replied, tucking the veil of hair concealing her beautiful face behind her ear. “Does that mean you will?”
“I hope so,” was all I could offer right now.
“Then that’s enough for me.” But it shouldn’t be…
“No, doll. It’s not enough. Nothing will ever be enough for you. You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met and you deserve the fucking earth. You deserve more than I know I will ever be able to offer you but I’m too goddamn selfish to let you go out and get it. So if you’re saying we can do this? Then I’m sure as hell gonna give it my best shot.”
“Soooo… does that mean you’re going to kiss me again?”
Fuck yeah it did.
Smiling so wide my jaw almost split I leaned into her and pressed one hand against her cheek. She’s got the softest skin I’ve ever had the fortune of touching and I doubt I will ever tire of stroking it. I took a moment to absorb just how pretty she was before I allowed my lips the taste they were so desperately craving – her pale skin, her striking red hair, the small freckle just below her left eye…
I couldn’t hold back any longer. I brushed my lips against hers slowly, purposely… teasingly. Then my tongue wandered slowly over the plump edges before gently manipulating its way inside and tasting her. She deepened the kiss – exploring every part of my mouth with her eager tongue. Every so often she would let out the most delicious little moan and the sound of it forced my fingers into her hair so I could pull her impossibly closer.
It was in that very moment I realized, despite having previously experienced countless sets of women’s lips on mine, I had never truly been kissed before now.
Things got pretty heated pretty quickly and soon enough Emily was on her knees beside me, tugging at my hair and eating me alive as if she was coming out of a month long fast. I grabbed the nape of her neck with one hand and placed the other on her lower back, pressing her tightly to me and sile
ntly vowing that I would never let her go… that I would never hurt her.
Shortly afterwards Emily reached behind her and removed my hand from her back, panting and groaning as she did so. Then she brought it around to her front and peeled her lips away from mine just long enough to kiss my knuckles before positioning my hand on her upper thigh and slowly encouraging it upwards.
Firmly but gently, I snapped my hand free and covered hers with mine– stopping her from edging it up any further.
“But I’m ready,” she whispered, sounding disheartened.
“Doll, it’s late. You’re tired and you’ve been drinking,” I said. “And you might think you’re ready but I need you to be sure – more sure than you’ve been about anything in your life.” Gazing down to her knees, that heart-wrenching look of rejection sweeping across her face again, she sighed. “Besides,” I added. “When I touch you there I don’t want you to just be ready. I want you to be desperate. By the time I get to feel you, doll, I want you aching so badly for me that you’re struggling to walk. I want you panting so harshly you can’t form words. And I want your mind to be so consumed by what you want me to do to you, you can’t even remember your own name.”
Aaaaand… as if by magic – her cheeks flushed, making her hair look pale in comparison.
Forcing her chin up with my finger I looked intently into her eyes, silently assuring her that I have never wanted to be inside another woman so badly. Then I twisted my fingers into her hair, relishing the luxurious feel of her soft red curls and holding her face close to mine.
“I do want you, doll. And trust me when I say that when I finally get to have you, I will make you feel so good the neighbors will take out a noise pollution order on me.” I winked at her and traced the edges of her lips with my thumb. My cock was just one more throb away from freakin’ exploding and yet here I was… being a gentleman. Aren’t you proud of me? “Let’s get you to bed,” I said. Then, noticing one of her perfectly pruned eyebrows shoot up I added, “to sleep. We’ve got a busy day ahead tomorrow, doll. I want you refreshed and eager next time I let you kiss me,” I teased.
“You’re such a loser,” she said playfully, swatting my shoulder with her hand.
She couldn’t have been more wrong. I had never felt like such a winner in all my life.
Chapter Twenty
Emily
One month later…
Today is Thanksgiving in America and Rachel, Jared and I were organising a surprise dinner for Dexter. He’d not even mentioned the holiday but it’s supposedly a huge affair over there so I was sure he’d love it. Even if he didn’t, I certainly would. Who wouldn’t want two Christmas dinners in a year?
The last month has been amazing. You’re going to have to overlook the fact that I’m about to sound like a walking cheeseball and believe me when I tell you I’ve never felt so alive, so invigorated, so… grown up. I finally feel like I’m in charge of my own life and the future I’ve always dreamed about is no longer just a dream – it’s really happening.
The nightmares have stopped – just like that. I don’t know why and I don’t care. I think they stopped coming about the time I reconciled with Dexter, though I can’t be certain because I found it difficult to focus on anything but him for those first few days. Who am I kidding? I’m still struggling to think of anything else even now.
Dexter and I see each other every day. Usually we meet during class (if I’ve not spent the night at his place and vice versa) then we’ll part ways while I head to Starbucks and he goes to the pub. I still don’t feel 100% at ease there yet. David is turning out to be friendly enough but Rachel 2 is a complete bitch. The other day she asked everyone except me if they needed anything picking up from the corner-shop during her break. I was standing right next to her and she completely blanked me!
If I’m not too tired after my shift I’ll go and meet Dexter at The Blue Apple and more often than not Rachel will join me. I’m sure that’s so she can spend time with Jared but she’d die before admitting that to me.
In case you’re interested, we still haven’t gone all the way in the S word department yet. That hasn’t stopped Rachel insisting on a daily basis I get myself waxed however – just in case. Maybe I’m being a complete wuss but the idea scares the bejesus out of me. So for now, I’ll keep up with my usual routine of a quick razor around the edges. TMI? Oops.
Believe me Dexter and I have done pretty much everything else that doesn’t involve venturing ‘down there’ but where the actual ‘deed’ is concerned, he’s being so stubborn about wanting everything to be perfect. Though I can categorically confirm, my vajayjay, hoohaa, whatever you want to call it… is most definitely NOT broken. I swear there’s a permanent party going on in my knickers whenever I so much as catch a glimpse of him. And don’t even get me started on how it tingles so violently down there it almost hurts whenever I steal a cheeky lick of his nipple rings…
No way did I just tell you that. Sorry.
It’s sweet really, Dexter taking it slowly – he isn’t leaving anything to chance when it comes to us being together. He’s so intent on making sure I know what I want and that I understand what I’m getting, even though I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.
Of course, Rachel’s got him blacklisted as a closet homosexual. Do I even need to bother to tell you how many times I’ve rolled my eyes at that comment? Didn’t think so.
Dexter hasn’t had anymore ‘slip ups’ since the ‘night we broke up even though we weren’t even together’ night. I’m not trivialising it by referring to that night as a slip up – I just don’t know what else to call it. But believe me I’m not walking blindly into this. That doesn’t mean I know what to expect because I don’t. I have no idea what Dexter’s kind of history does to a person or whether they can ever stay ‘on the wagon’ so to speak. All I do know is that Dexter is one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met and I can only vow to try to be there for him if ever he needs me. No matter how much that thought scares the hell out of me.
We’ve talked so much this past month - for hours on end some nights – but I still don’t know who that phone call was from the previous night or who he was ‘losing’. He hasn’t volunteered the information and I haven’t been brave enough to ask for fear I’d lose him again. That makes me naïve I know it does. When you bury your head in the sand the chances are you’ll end up being suffocated, which is why I know we need to have that conversation eventually.
Just not yet.
“So you sure we got the right stuff?” Rachel said, trying to figure out which end of the turkey to shove her hand in. I should note here, that in buying said turkey I managed to cross off Number 14 on the New Life List – after a hefty squabble with Rachel I might add.
· Do something reckless :-)
Now, Rachel’s argument was that by reckless she meant something exciting - something daring and uncharacteristic of me. My defence? How more reckless can you get than spending twenty-five pounds – yes… TWENTY-FIVE Great British Pounds – on a dead bird?
“I think so,” I shrugged. “According to Monica anyway.” Good ol’ Monica Geller. Today’s menu is based entirely on the episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S where Brad Pitt comes for dinner. I wasn’t expecting the cooking to be too difficult - I’ve watched my mum cook a turkey – albeit reluctantly – every year since I was born. From what I could gather, wash, stuff, and shove in oven was all there is to it.
But then there’s the pumpkin. After Googling Thanksgiving I discovered pumpkin pie is like some kind of tradition, but seeing as I’ve only ever used one to hack out its guts, carve a face and put a tea-light in it, this was going to be a problem.
“Right so the lid’s off – now what?” I asked, staring blankly into the orange mush and regretting the whole pumpkin pie idea already.
“You’re asking me? Seriously, Ho?” Yeah she had a point. Rachel’s culinary talents rested at re-heating day old pizza, and she’d even been known to burn that on occas
ion.
“This is going to be a disaster,” I groaned, pulling out my phone to Google the recipe for the fiftieth time. When I swiped across the screen, a text was waiting for me.
Dexter: Coming over in an hour. I have something for u ;-)
“No no no!” I thought out-loud without realising.
“What’s wrong?” Rachel asked in a panic, pulling her hand which was now dripping with turkey slime from the back of the bird.
“Dexter’s coming over. This is supposed to be a surprise!” I said, waving my hand over the pile of food on the countertop beside me.
“So tell him he can’t,” she answered simply. I knew Dexter too well though – he’d just turn up anyway. “Or tell him you’re out.” Hmm, that might work. Nodding, I started typing.
Me: I’m shopping with Rach. Come over about 2 xxx
Dexter: I can’t wait that long. I miss u
And that right there is why I love him. Although I haven’t told him that yet. Well, actually I did a couple of weeks ago – it sort of slipped out while we were… doing stuff. But he either didn’t hear me or didn’t feel it too because he didn’t say it back. Therefore I’ve not been brave enough to repeat it, and have been trying extremely hard (but not always succeeding) in trying not to obsess over whether it’s the second reason.
Me: Miss u too. C U at 2 xxx
Dexter: Or before x
Damn you, Dexter Michaels!
“Get Jared over here. We need more help,” I snapped in a fluster. There was no way this dinner was going to be ready in time. We only had four hours and Rachel still hadn’t plucked up enough courage to remove the turkey’s giblets.
“Quit worrying. Who needs food anyway?” she teased, reaching for her glass of wine and toasting it in the air. I silently hoped she and Jared didn’t get too drunk – even though the past month has taught me that had about as much chance of actually happening as Santa coming to help prepare this meal.
Take My Hand Page 17
