Starting Over

by Barbie Bohrman

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I make it as far as the end of his street before stopping my car and pulling over.

  Taking a deep breath, again and again, helps me to regain focus on the situation, because my head feels as if it was literally spinning for a few minutes.

  Skipping from thought to thought, I come to the conclusion that I’m crazy. Well, not crazy, like, loony-bin crazy, but crazy over all of this sex stuff. Poor Cameron, he probably thinks that I’m actually crazy at this point.

  I’m an adult, single, red-blooded female who wants to have a sexual relationship with a man that I like a lot and have grown to care about. Has it been in a short time that this has happened? Yes, but the fact remains I’m a grown woman and can do this . . . if I want.

  And I do want to do this with him. But now I think I’ve screwed it all up for good with that scene that just played out a few minutes ago.

  God, you’re an idiot.

  How do I fix this? What could I possibly say to make him understand? I bet he didn’t count on this when he signed up to ask me out that first time, and I wouldn’t blame him one bit if he didn’t want to listen to me attempt to explain myself. Where do I even start?

  I make a decision in that instant, which may backfire, but the hell with it. Putting my car back in drive, I spin the wheel and make a U-turn back to Cameron’s house. Pulling into his driveway again a second later, I put the car into park and open my door, not letting any hesitation enter into my mind this time. I walk up the steps, but my hand freezes before knocking on his front door for the second time that night.

  Then I remember a saying from a book or a movie that goes something like “if you can bear having embarrassing courage for twenty seconds, something good will come of it.”

  So I knock and the ticking clock of twenty seconds begins as soon as Cameron swings the door open in complete surprise.

  “Vanessa, thank God you’re back, I was going to call you because I really think we need to—”

  “Cameron, can I please come in again?”

  He steps aside. “Yes, of course.”

  I walk straight to his living room while he shuts and locks the front door. When he joins me, I ask him to please take a seat so I can explain myself.

  “Vanessa, you don’t have to explain yourself. I was pushing you to move too fast and I’m sorry, but when I start to kiss you, my head feels like it’s going to explode and—”

  Not even recognizing myself, I lean down and grab his face in my hands and kiss him to shut him up. He stills but lets me kiss him fully on the mouth, with just a hint of our tongues grazing each other’s. It’s enough to dissolve whatever lingering doubts I had earlier and helps to convince me that what I’m about to do is the right thing, right here and right now with him.

  I break the kiss and whisper against his lips, “Don’t say another word. Okay?”

  He nods.

  I stand up straight, and with my eyes locked on his, and with the clock running down on the twenty seconds I sorely need to keep my bravery up, I begin to unbutton my blouse. His eyes, already black as the night sky, grow darker with need and want as I reach the final button. When I start to pull the blouse open to slide it off my shoulders, he abruptly stands up and pulls it together again to stop me.

  “Why are you—?”

  “Are you sure about this?” he asks in a low voice, his hands still holding my blouse together and covering me up.

  I search his eyes once more just as the twenty seconds are up and say yes.

  “Then I want to be the one to undress you,” he says.

  I nod in agreement, because I prefer to hand over the reins. He brings my right hand up to hold my blouse together and takes the other in his. He walks me to his bedroom in silence, with the only sound our steps echoing against the hardwood floor the entire way until we reach the foot of his bed. With the small amount of light filtering in from the hallway, I can tell that it’s a light-colored comforter thrown over the bed haphazardly, as if he was in a hurry to attempt to make the bed this morning.

  He turns me around so that the backs of my knees graze the footboard. I’m in this moment right now with him, and I will follow him down any road he decides to take me on.

  I drop my hand, and the unbuttoned blouse separates an inch or two, letting the silk material billow slightly between us as I wait for his next move.

  Cameron slowly runs a finger down the sliver of exposed skin, then back up again. It trails up to my collarbone and then down, stopping between my breasts.

  “Did you know that attraction is a scientific process that is mostly dictated by our brains, but the body can give off certain telltale signals?”

  I swallow some air and let out a breathy no in response. I can see the grin on his face as he dips his head and places a string of kisses across my collarbone. My hands weave into his black hair to bring me closer to him. They stay looped around his neck when he stands up straight again and says, “One physiological response is pupil dilation, it can dictate to a man when a woman is experiencing unbridled lust and vice versa.”

  Cameron pulls my arms down so that they are hanging limply by my sides. Not a second later, he’s tugging the shirt off of each shoulder, and it lands on the floor. My heart is practically pounding in my chest as I note every single action and reaction etched across his face. I feel like putty in his hands, and the more random facts he spouts, the more turned on I become. And if I had to guess, my pupils can’t possibly get more dilated right now.

  He snakes an arm around my waist and pulls me to him. With our bodies pressed together, he licks his lips quickly before dipping his head once more and kissing me gently; a simple kiss in execution but erotic in its delivery, and it makes my toes curl.

  While he’s kissing me and his tongue rubs against mine, his hand cups my breast. I moan into his mouth at the sensation when he plucks my nipple between his fingers. Then he pulls away, leaving me heady and desperate for more.

  Cameron starts to unbutton my jeans and then slowly unzips them, with his eyes on mine. He crouches down in front of me and starts to slide them down my hips. I kick my shoes off as if they were on fire before he reaches my feet so he can remove them completely.

  Now I’m standing before him in only my bra and underwear. For a second, I want to wrap my arms across my chest and cover myself up; my hands twitch with the urge to do just that, but he holds them to the side. From his position, he looks up and says, “Don’t, you’re beautiful,” before placing a kiss on my navel.

  When he stands, he starts talking in a low voice again. “A classic symptom of sexual attraction is the release of norepinephrine in the brain. It usually means that your skin will break out in a sweat as a result of the pleasure you’re experiencing.”

  He’s saying this as he spins me around so that my back is pressed against his front. And then his hands come around my sides: one sliding up to angle my chin to face him and the other sliding down the length of my torso and farther still, stopping at the edge of my panties.

  My breathing is already jagged at best, and if it weren’t for his arms around me, I’d probably fall on the floor. The anticipation is killing me, and the science of sex and the calm and erotic way he’s explaining it all to me as he touches and kisses me is driving me crazy in the best way possible.

  Cameron’s hand dips lower still and underneath the small shred of lace fabric. My eyes close and my head falls back onto his shoulder when I feel him touch me there finally, and I moan into the darkness. And with his fingers moving in small circles in just the right spot, he brings me to the brink of climax and then stops as suddenly as he brought me there.

  “Here,” he whispers and tilts my chin more so his mouth can capture mine.

  As our tongues meet again, stroking and stoking the flame inside of me that is dying to burst, his fingers start their ministrations once more, and there is no stopping this time; it’s amazing. He swallows my moans, growling into my mouth while he slows the pace
of his fingers working against me.

  “Are you okay?” he asks tenderly, removing his hand from my panties and swiping a wet trail up my chest.

  “Yes.”

  I’m so okay right now, it’s not even funny how okay I am. My chest is heaving as I try to catch my breath when he turns me around to face him again. For the first time, a cocky grin flashes across his face.

  “You’re sweating,” he says with a hint of mischief in his voice.

  “I am,” I say with an equal amount of mirth. “And you’re still dressed.”

  It’s almost as if saying those words out loud sets off a chain reaction inside of me that results in me almost tearing off his button-down shirt and T-shirt. His skin is hot to the touch and smooth with only a smattering of dark hair. And he’s fit but not too muscular: as Goldilocks would say, “Just right.”

  My hands roam the expanse of his chest and down farther still; then he stops me from unbuckling his belt.

  “What’s wrong? Are we stopping? Please tell me we’re not stopping now?” My voice doesn’t even sound like my own, but I mean it. I need more from him. I want to feel him move inside of me and finish what we started.

  He chuckles lightly and shakes his head once in silent negation. “No, we’re not stopping. I just need to get something.”

  He places me on the bed, and I drag my body up until my head reaches the pillows. Cameron walks around the corner of the bed, his eyes focused on mine while he rummages through his nightstand and takes out a condom.

  When he’s holding it in between his teeth and going for his belt buckle, I surprise even myself by reaching behind me to undo my bra. It slides down my arms, and I toss it on the floor at his feet. His eyes widen and his nostrils flare as my hands trail down my sides and latch on to the tiny scrap of lace fabric that is my underwear just as he’s undoing the buttons of his jeans. And when the buttons hit the hardwood floor with a long ping, I slide my panties down and off my legs, tossing them to land on his discarded jeans.

  The urge to cover myself is obliterated. I want him to look at me and appreciate what he sees. In fact, I feel as if my life depends on it suddenly. And his reaction to me being completely bare is worth its weight in gold. Because without another word, he climbs on the bed and pushes my legs apart, staring for a second at the apex of my thighs. It’s searing and sensual and makes me want to see every part of him that much sooner.

  “Cameron, please,” is what I choke out between labored breaths as I writhe on the bed, his dark gaze on me.

  On his knees before me, he removes his boxer briefs and tears the condom open finally. I watch as he covers himself with it and leans down over me, holding himself at my entrance. And we both look down between our bodies and watch as he enters me for the first time.

  We moan at the feel of it, the sight, one of the most erotic things I’ve experienced and seen in my entire life. And then he starts to move, setting a pace that makes it beyond pleasurable for me as evidenced by the impending climax that hovers beneath the surface of my already flushed and sweaty skin.

  When I do finally break that peak of pleasure, with my legs wrapped around his hips, my hands are gripping his back to guide his movements to a slower pace to prolong the sensation racking my body. Once I reach the crest, he props up on his elbows to look down at me, telling me without voicing it out loud that his desire for me is real and raw. That’s when he starts to move faster again, chasing and ultimately reaching his own release. Even with the barrier of the condom, experiencing him pulse inside of me, I feel more like a woman than any other moment before this.

  I take his entire weight when he drops his head to kiss and burrow into my neck, my hand caressing his back in slow circles. And the warmth of his body draped over mine is a feeling that I already know I want to experience over and over. As our breathing comes back to normal and I can actually catch a breath and form a coherent string of words, I tap him on the shoulder.

  “Am I too heavy?” he asks, propping himself up on his elbows to look down at me.

  His hair is a mess from my hands having wreaked havoc in it, and it makes him look even more perfect than before.

  I shake my head. “No, you’re not too heavy. I was going to ask if you have a T-shirt that says ‘I love science,’ because as it turns out, I really, really, really love science.”

  There is a dance that couples do as they sleep that is uncoordinated yet perfectly timed and attuned to their partner’s needs and wants as the night goes on.

  While this dance happens with Cameron for the very first time—I don’t count that other time since I was in a fever fueled haze—I’m amazed at how in sync he is with what I want and need from him. Because at one point in the middle of the night, I wake up craving more of him, and he gives himself over to me without question, a sleepy and leisurely discovery of each other’s bodies that ends as the morning dawns.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Waking up is hard after getting little to no sleep the previous night.

  But waking up is even more difficult when you don’t want to leave the bed and the man you’re sharing it with.

  I had honestly forgotten what it was like, that feeling of being cherished even in sleep by someone you care about. And if last night was any indication, then I’m never leaving this bed. Ever.

  Josie.

  I practically jump up to sitting position and fling the comforter off of me at the thought of her name. Because I have no idea what time it is, and I’m supposed to be home when Carrie’s mom drops her back off after their sleepover.

  Cameron, who was sleeping on his stomach next to me, the comforter resting at the dimples on his lower back, and looking absolutely delectable, picks his head up and rubs his face with his hands. “What’s going on?” he asks, sounding sleepy and looking over his shoulder to where I’m already gathering up my clothes. “Vanessa, what are you doing?”

  “I have to go,” I answer as I put my panties on and then spot my bra on the other side of the bed. I rush over to where it is and put it on. “Josie’s going to be home in . . .”

  Looking everywhere for a damn clock, I finally see one on the nightstand on his side of the bed. “Jesus Christ! She’s going to be home in thirty minutes!”

  I race through putting on the rest of my clothes, and the whole time I’m aware of Cameron watching me from his bed. He’s sitting up by now and leaning against the upholstered tan headboard that we ended up putting to really good use last night.

  I rush to the bathroom, run my fingers through my hair, and brush my teeth with my finger. When I look in the mirror, I give my face a once-over and am relieved to see that I don’t look like I’m too tired. Or at least not tired enough that anyone would really notice, thank God.

  Cameron appears in the reflection, leaning against the doorjamb with just his button-fly jeans on, but the top button is still undone and his arms are crossed over his chest.

  “So you’re just going to use me for my body and leave?” he asks with a smirk.

  Smiling and turning around, I take a couple of steps until I’m standing right in front of him. Getting up on my tiptoes, I give him a kiss. “I’m sorry, but I really do have to get going. If it makes you feel any better, I’d rather I was still in that bed with you.”

  “I know, and so do I.” He reaches up and brushes aside some of my hair, then tucks it behind my ear, his eyes lighting up as they follow the motion. Then he bends down and kisses me again, a light brush of his lips against mine. “Go,” he says quietly. “I’ll call you later.”

  The drive home, incredibly, and probably because it’s still early in the day, takes me ten minutes. I’m in my house and changing out of my clothes from the night before and taking the world’s fastest shower with time to spare. I give myself an air fist bump while running down the stairs, grateful that I didn’t screw up this time.

  This time?

  Wait, is this how it’s going to have to be with Cameron? Clandestine nights together so that I can
spend the night with him and vice versa? Because that is not at all what I need or even want. Then again, I can’t very well have him coming over here whenever I want to do . . . that again. And I can’t just go over there either whenever I want, because of my responsibilities to Josie. This is probably why I resigned myself to being single all those years ago, because this is already becoming complicated.

  Okay, Vanessa, relax. You will figure this out, I say to myself just as the doorbell rings.

  I will figure this out, because Cameron does make me very happy and I’m kind of already falling for him. I mean, what’s not to fall for; he’s almost perfect. I think almost, because there is one thing I’ve learned, a very hard lesson at the time but I know this to be true: no one is perfect.

  As soon as Josie is in the house, she takes one look at me and says, “What happened to you?”

  This kid and her ever observant eyes never let me get away with a single thing. Not that I’m going to tell her I had sex last night with her teacher or anything specific, but for the life of me, how she’s able to always discern when something is up with me boggles my mind.

  “I had a late night,” I say. “I went on another date with Cameron.”

  Looking genuinely curious, she asks, “How was it?”

  Smiling, I answer, “Really good. I had a great time actually. Thanks for asking.”

  “Are you going to see him again?”

  I nod and say yes, then ask how her evening was with Carrie. She goes on and on about some drama that happened on someone’s social media account that they know and how all these random people she also knows from school were commenting on it. Quite honestly, it sounds ridiculous and exhausting. I silently thank God that there was no such thing as social media when I was her age. Whatever happened to good old-fashioned notes? It was one of my favorite pastimes at school.

  “See, this is why I don’t allow you to have any social media accounts. So you can thank me later if you like, kid.”

  “Very funny, Mom.”