by Emma Nichols
I nod. He hasn’t answered me about the truck.
“Milo…” I pause, my hand trailing over his forearm. “Did you drive here because you live nearby?”
I feel his deep intake of breath, then the slow exhalation.
“I live in upstate New York.”
“Where?”
“Armonk.”
I suck in a breath. “That’s not upstate.”
“It is to you people who live in the city.”
“It’s an hour away.”
“I know.”
“Wait.” I lean my head back from him so I can look him in the eyes. “How did you know I live in the city?”
Milo’s arms tense. He’s quiet for so long that I prompt him with a “Milo?”
He sighs and looks out toward the lake. “I looked you up before I came. Just to be sure I wasn’t going to come here and find a married woman.”
Covering my laughter with one hand only makes my body shake, and since I’m in his arms it has a certain effect on him.
“You researched me?” I find this extremely amusing. Milo doesn’t seem like the type.
He watches me enjoy the hell out of this new information, a smirk on his lips.
“So you know about my company?” I ask.
“I spent some time on your website,” he admits.
Warmth floods me. My work is my pride and joy.
“It’s impressive. The way you encourage women. I’ve been in a lot of places, seen a lot of things, and I know firsthand how much help women need. Your words, your thoughts, your ideas… They’re getting strength from you, Aurora.”
Is that pride I see on Milo’s face? I think I just had a tiny orgasm.
My smile is so wide it hurts the corners of my lips.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
“Don’t thank me,” he says. “Just let me into your hotel room in thirty minutes.”
“For a nap?” I purse my lips and wiggle my eyebrows.
He tips his head, gazing at me and sucking the side of his lower lip in between his teeth. “I might let you sleep.”
My insides tumble, quivering in delicious anticipation.
Rising on my tip-toes, I place a feather-light kiss on his lips and then walk away.
The whole drive back to the hotel I spend thinking about what this all means.
He only lives an hour away… Does that change anything?
Only if we want it to, I suppose.
Do we want it to?
8
Milo
“Sorry I’m late,” I say, stepping through the door Aurora holds open.
Her hair hangs down her back, wet, and she’s wearing a silk robe. Not the typical terry-cloth hotel robe, but something she must’ve brought from home.
Speaking of home… Aurora knows where I live now.
When I’d told her earlier today, standing beside my truck, the question hung thick in the air between us.
What is this?
I haven’t stopped thinking about it since the second we parted ways this afternoon. Is it best to spend one, incredibly fun weekend together, and then be done with it?
Probably.
Don’t make it into more, Andrews.
The thick door falls into the jamb with a thud, and Aurora steps back a few feet. She keeps those bright eyes trained on mine and reaches down, hands wrapping around the looped ties of her robe.
Smiling, she unties the robe slowly. It opens, exposing her naked front side.
“I think I just stopped breathing.” It’s a joke, but it might be slightly for real. I’m pretty sure my breath went away for a second.
“I really hope not,” Aurora says, eyeing the front of my pants. “I’m not into necrophilia, and after being around you all day I’m in serious need of…” her eyes sparkle, “detonation.”
A chuckle breaks through my lips. I knew Aurora was bold, but I didn’t know she was funny. Not until last night when I finally got up the courage to talk to her. I like her wit, almost as much as I enjoy… well, everything else about her.
Thoughts like that probably aren’t helping the whole this is just for fun status of the weekend.
The robe slips off her shoulders as she walks backwards, stopping at the bed.
“One of us is very overdressed,” she says. “And it’s not me.”
I cross the room quickly, reaching behind myself and pulling my shirt over my head as I go. Aurora reaches for my jeans, undoing them and sliding them off my hips. I step out of them as she lies down on her back. Staring down at her, drinking in her long, toned legs and curved hips, I can’t help what comes from my mouth.
“Aurora fucking Callaway,” I mutter in amazement. I shake my head and laugh at myself. What a tool.
Propping herself up on her elbows, she says, “Don’t you mean fucking Aurora Callaway? As in, you’re fucking Aurora Callaway?” Her nose wrinkles. “Third person is awkward. Nevermind.” She laughs.
That’s another thing I like about Aurora. Her willingness to laugh at herself. How does someone beautiful and intelligent not take herself too seriously?
Stop.
I listen to myself, and I stop thinking. Instead, I start acting.
Doing the things I learned Aurora likes.
When we’ve both found our release, Aurora falls asleep in my arms.
I soon fall sleep, and wake up to Aurora reaching for me, doing the opposite of a dick punch.
“Laughter isn’t quite the reaction you should be having right now,” Aurora pouts, but doesn’t stop.
“Sorry,” I say, still chuckling. It’s hard to talk, so I murmur, “Opposite of a dick punch.”
Aurora’s laughing too, and I roll her over and hover above her.
“I like your laugh, Aurora.”
“I like,” she hesitates, her face unsure, “a lot of things about you, Milo.”
I slide into her, and try not to think past this moment with her.
Her hands grip my back, her lips are on mine, and into my mouth she whispers, “We were overdue for this, Milo.”
“Are you going to say that at our twenty-year reunion, too?”
“I hope not,” she says, a trace of desperation to her voice. Her mouth melts into mine, a new fervor that adds to our already scorching heat.
Her words run on a loop in my mind, mixing with her soft moans, getting lost in her cries of pleasure.
After, I lay there, waiting for her to come back from the bathroom. She returns with a grin, climbing back into bed and snuggling into me. She eyes the dress hanging on the back of a chair.
She sighs. “I guess we should get ready for that dinner event tonight.”
I kiss the top of her head. “We don’t have to. We can stay here. We can go somewhere else. Whatever you want.”
Suddenly she sits up, turning so she’s sitting cross-legged on the bed. The comforter is bunched at the end of the bed, so she reaches for it and wraps it around her waist.
“I feel like one of us just needs to say it. So, here it goes.” She blows out a breath. “I don’t want tomorrow to be it. I’m not ready to be done knowing you. Or Sydney.”
I catch the wince when she says Sydney’s name.
“Aurora, are you certain? When you saw Sydney today…” How do I verbalize what I saw? There was pain on Aurora’s face, even when she was trying to mask it. If there’s so much pain a person can’t even hide it when they’re trying desperately to, what does that say?
“That will take some getting used to,” she admits, pulling the comforter tighter around her. “I was in a serious relationship. We became pregnant, and the baby was stillborn.” Tears spring to her eyes, and when they spill over she swipes at them with the back of her hands. “Serena was so perfect. But she wasn’t alive.”
The sight of Aurora’s tears just about kill me. If there were any right words to say in this moment, they’ve eluded me. So I do the only thing I can think to do. I scoot over and pull her into me, cradling her while she cries softly.<
br />
After a while she asks the question I’ve been waiting for. “Where is Sydney’s mom?” Aurora’s fingers trail over my chest as she waits for my response.
I tell her what happened and feel her go rigid in my arms.
The irony isn’t lost on me. One woman discarded what another woman would give everything for.
“I’m sorry,” she says, bringing her face to mine and nuzzling my cheek with her nose.
“I’m not. Brea didn’t deserve to be Sydney’s mom.”
We stay that way, snuggled in the hotel bed, until I’m certain the party is well under way in the ballroom downstairs.
“Are we skipping?” I ask into her hair. It smells of the shampoo she must’ve used after being at the lake all day.
“I wouldn’t mind dancing with you. Or having a drink.”
“Are you set on going downstairs for that?”
She shakes her head, her hair trailing over my bare chest. “I take it you have an idea?”
“It requires us to get out of bed though.”
She scrambles from the bed, saluting me when she’s upright. “Step one complete.”
I smile. “Get dressed in something comfortable.”
We dress, laughing and chatting about her uncle and my mom knowing each other. On the way out of the hotel we hear a song that was popular our senior year blaring from the ballroom.
Pulling Aurora close, I whisper, “We’re going to have more fun than them.”
I stop at the store on the way. Aurora never asks where we’re going. I think she like the surprise.
We pass the lake and then drive for three more miles. My exit is barely visible, even to someone who knows where they’re going. Easing off the road, I drive onto the narrow path. Leaves whip the truck on either side.
Aurora looks over, concerned.
“It’s okay. I used to come out here all the time. On a bike though.” I lean forward and release some of the pressure I have on the gas pedal. I’m trying to figure out if the path will get tighter than it is now.
I can’t tell, and I don’t want to get stuck out here, so I stop the truck and park. Where I’m taking her is only a hundred yards away, and she wore running shoes.
We start off, the bag from the grocery store in one hand, and a rolled up blanket propped under my arm. Aurora slips her fingers into my free hand and grips me tightly.
She’s quiet, looking around, and when we step into the clearing she gasps.
“Where are all the trees?” She drops my hand and turns slowly in a circle. “What’s that?” She points to a small log cabin at the far end of the clearing.
“An abandoned cabin.”
She looks at me, surprised. “How do you know?”
“I used to come out here a lot. It was the world’s best hideout. Nobody lived there except some squirrels.”
“What did you do out here?”
Unrolling the blanket, I shake it out a few times and let it float to the ground. I sit down and pat the ground beside me. Aurora eyes the cabin as she sits down.
“I came out here to play house.” From the bag I grab the bottle of wine and unscrew it. I forgot to grab cups, so I offer the bottle to Aurora. She takes it and sips, watching me. Probably waiting for me to say more.
She passes the bottle back to me. I take a drink and say, “I’ve never had a dad. My mom smoked a ton. One after the other.” I shake my head. How many times had I asked her to quit? “So, I came out here and pretended that was my house. Out here, I had a mom who didn’t spend every free waking minute sitting on the porch and smoking, and my dad came home from work at five and played catch with me.”
Aurora scoots closer, until she’s sitting between my legs. She leans back into me and murmurs “I’m sorry you didn’t have that.”
“I’m sorry you lost your daughter.”
She takes the bottle from my hand and tips it up gently.
“Look at the sky,” she says, bringing the bottle back down.
Tipping my head back, I see what she’s talking about. The darkening blue is streaked with pinks and purples, all ensconced by the circle of green trees.
“I love it out here. So different from the city. So green.” She reaches out an arm, brushes her fingers across the earth.
“Do you want to come up next weekend? To Armonk?” The question has been turning over in my mind since before we left her hotel room.
Aurora turns to face me. Her skin looks soft, the sunset bathing her in a rosy glow.
“I would love that.” She kisses me sweetly on the lips. When she pulls back, she smiles and says, “I can’t believe I almost didn’t come this weekend.”
“I think I would’ve tracked you down. Found some reason to run into you.”
Aurora laughs. It’s a sound I never want to be without.
“I have a question for you,” I say, my chest rumbling with laughter already.
“Hmm?”
“Can I call you Dick Punch every once in a while?” She narrows her eyes at me but I keep talking. “I was there that day. I watched you do it. I think it immortalized my high school crush. Physically, I was attracted to you, but when I watched you rear back and slam a fist into Troy’s crotch”—my thighs tighten at the memory—“You became more than a pretty face I wish I had the courage to talk to.”
Aurora laughs, but her cheeks are scarlet. “Fine. You can call me Dick Punch.” She rolls her eyes. “But only twice a year. And you cannot, under any circumstances, tell Bindi. She’s my best friend, and she will never let me hear the end of it.”
I nod once. “Deal.”
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I search through my music until I find a slow song that was popular when we were in high school.
“I didn’t go to prom.” I stand and hold out a hand. “Will you dance with me?”
She hops up and sails into my arms. “I’d love nothing more.”
I hold her and sway. By the end of the song we have wandering hands and lips swollen from intense kisses.
If I could tear my lips from Aurora’s delicate neck, I’d tip my head up to the sky and thank my lucky stars for the meandering path that finally brought me to her.
We were overdue.
* * *
The End
Other Works by Jennifer Millikin
Our Finest Hour
The Day He Went Away
Full of Fire
* * *
Click below to reach Jennifer and read her other books:
https://linktr.ee/jenmillwrites
For A Little While
Aliyah Burke
For A Little While
Copyright © 2018 Aliyah Burke
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web-without permission in writing from the publisher or author. The unauthorized replication or allocation of any copyrighted work is illegal. File sharing is an international crime, prosecuted by the United States Department of Justice and the United States Border Patrol, Division of Cyber Crimes, in partnership with Interpol. Copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is punishable by up to five years in federal prison, a fine of $250,000 per reported instance, and seizure of computers.
This book is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is coincidental. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only.
For A Little While
A single mom returns for her high school reunion and reunites with the one who’d been her first.
Piper Joiller, a single mom, isn
’t all that excited about returning for her high school reunion. There were both good times and bad there. But she’s going.
Slade Wickham came to this for one thing only, a chance to see Piper once more. He was her first and he’s never forgotten her. Seeing her, only makes him realize that she is more than just a weekend fling.
Thank you to the readers. To those of y’all who’ve gone back to the small town reunions and have lived to tell the tale, this one’s for you!
1
“I can’t believe you’re actually going back to that place. I thought you weren’t ever going back to Linwood High?”
Piper Joiller stared at her best friend and partner in crime most days, Delaney Byrd-Stark, in the mirror and shrugged. “I was invited.”
Delaney gave her a grin. “You know, I was in Thailand once and while I stayed there, I was invited to share in a drink mixed with some scorpion venom. Just because the invite was there, didn’t mean I was accepting it.”
Laughing at Delaney’s expression, she teased, “We both know you drank it. You can’t help trying new things.”
She flicked her tongue along the seam of her lips. “I’m a changed woman.”
Piper snorted. “Your Marine may have calmed you, but changed? Not so sure about that claim. Plus, you were in Thailand prior to your meeting of Mister Garrick McHottie Marine, so he wasn’t even in your life. Nice try, but no.”
Delaney grinned. “McHottie Marine? I think he’s going to like that. Probably get a swelled head.”
Piper tugged on her zipper closing the bag. “Also probably something that will work in your favor.”
Her waggling eyebrows said it all. Then Delaney sobered. “Are you going to be okay?”
Lifting her chin, Piper nodded. “I’ll be fine. It’s a reunion. I go say hi and drink. Part of me wants to go back and visit her grave as well, like a final farewell.”
