Read Online Douse (Book One: At the Edge of a Hurricane) by June Hydra - Free Book Online Page A

rinse my cheeks in cold, running water. Being asleep
or having Dead Fish Syndrome in the bedroom is does not exactly make for
exhilarating sex.
    I come out of the bathroom, face
supple and drying, ready to face Bishop.
               

            CHAPTER 7
     
     
    We
finish in a cacophony of gasps and pants. We grab at each other’s
extremities, anywhere and everywhere—it doesn’t matter where. And
when we’re done grabbing each other, fulfilling each other in the most
primal of sense, we cuddle. We cuddle and we talk about petty things, like how
our day was, or how someone held open a door for him. How the receptionist had
cabbage stuck in her teeth or how a rude driver cut him off on his way to work.
    So
long. So long since I’ve cuddled another man after sex. It would always
be a wham-bam affair. Hurricanes of great speeds. The names were
inconsequential to the acts. The bodies were means to an end—I
didn’t care for the men and they never cared for me. They were business
and the product was myself.
    Now,
in the arms of Bishop, an incredible satisfaction has taken residency.
It’s bought out a plot of land in my heart. Then there’s the
satisfaction in my head, plowing away the old habits, the anger from my
childhood and the faceless interactions with college guys. I let the
satisfactions grow and grow, nurturing them with Bishop’s good vibes.
    “I
trust you,” I say. “You were so gentle with me.”
    “I
couldn’t tell if you were going to be a rough girl or a gentle
one.”
    “Trust
me. I’ve had too many rough experiences already.”
    Bishop
props himself on one arm to face me. “Want to play another game?”
 
    “Name
it. Let’s do it.”
    “How
about we play Truth or Dare. Except in this version, if the other person thinks
you’re lying, then you have to kiss them.”
    “We’ll
just end up lying though,” I say, smirking.
    “Exactly.
And if the other person doesn’t do the dare, then you have to kiss them
too.”
    So
we start, ready to jump from the tips of our tongues. “Truth or
dare,” I say.
    “Truth.
I like honesty.”
    I
flinch. But it’s not like I’ve told any lies. He just doesn’t
know what I do, which is only tangentially related to lying. “Okay,
truth: Name your biggest deal breaker.”
    “Smoking.
I hate smoke. The scent is gross and when you kiss it’s terrible. You can
taste the ash.”
    “I
agree. My turn. I pick dare.”
    “I
dare you to…” Bishop’s hazel eyes drift around. He looks to
the ceiling fan slowing rotating above us. Then he scans the coverlets, tossed
to the ground in the flurry of passion we created. “I dare you to jump
out the window.”
    “That’s
a silly dare.”
    “Guess
you’ll have to kiss me.”
    I
roll unto my side and slip my lips between his. His lips have the texture of
petals, dewy and pliable.
    “Truth
or dare,” I say, finally. 
    “Truth.”
    I
fall back unto the bed with a single question. “What exactly do you want
out of life?”
    “To
be happy. Maybe start a family. Have a decent job. Live well and without many
regrets. That sounds really, really generic. But I’m a generic kind of
guy.”
    “You’re
always playing yourself down like that. You’re way more impressive than
the majority of people our age.”
    “No.
Not at all.” Bishop rolls the blankets over our waists. His bare naked
leg touches mine and I snuggle closer, clinging to his torso.
    “You’re
definitely not a bad guy. You’re a fantastic guy.”
    Bishop
scoffs. “Not according to the church at least.”
    “You’re
religious?” I try to sound somewhat surprised. Had Caddy not told me, I
probably would have been.
    “Not
super religious. I guess ‘spiritual’ is the new term our generation
likes to use. I’m spiritual.” Bishop thrusts his arm downwards to
the small of my back. He runs a finger around the knob of my spine, thinking.
“I don’t know. Everybody has their sob story. My parents did okay
with their