dress. Then I reach down, pick up my panties, and casually hang them over the back of his chair. “These you can keep,” I say. His eyebrows go up, and he grins again, but as usual, his lips remain closed. He turns and opens the bedroom door, stepping aside so I can pass.
I breeze down the hallway and out into the living room. Four of David’s friends are on the brown couches and one is sitting on the floor. David, wearing only his black jeans, is just a few steps behind me. I stride right past his friends without making eye contact. But I know they are all looking at me...and I like it.
“Bye, boys,” I say, pleased with the confidence in my voice. I stop just inside the apartment door and wait for David to catch up. Once he’s next to me, I turn and push him into the wall. I hold the back of his neck and press my mouth to his, twisting against his tongue. He pulls me towards him by my waist. We kiss hard, and for a moment, I consider staying for the screwing and whatevering, but then I remember myself and pull away.
He lets go of my waist, and I walk out.
I contemplate standing outside his door to see if I can hear what they say, but then I decide I’d rather not, just in case it isn’t very flattering. I feel pretty damned convinced that David enjoyed that as much as I did, and I don’t want to hear otherwise. I walk my confident self back down the stairs and into my apartment.
It’s only eleven, and because of my impromptu nap this afternoon, I’m not the least bit tired. I take a long shower, washing David off my skin, and get dressed in sweats and a T-shirt. I spend the rest of the evening camped out on the couch watching reruns of South Park and drinking the rest of the mug wine. I think I occasionally hear someone going down the steps and out the front door, but I’m not about to peek out the window and see. I don’t want David to know I’m still thinking about him.
* * *
The sex, wine and reruns cause me to sleep in way later than I had planned. I haven’t checked anything off my weekend to-do list yet, unless you count the few boxes I unpacked yesterday before Michael showed up. After eating a breakfast bar, I set to the task of unpacking the rest of the boxes. When I am done, the only ones remaining are those from Michael—which I shove to the back of my closet and try to forget—and the ones containing the kitchen stuff that I can’t unpack until David is finished.
I spend the rest of my Sunday doing the mundane. Since I can now walk on the kitchen floor, I make a quick trip to the grocery store for some food, beer and more wine, and make myself a late lunch as soon as I return. Part of me was hoping to run into David while I was out, but then I recalled his note saying that he had plans for the day. When I finish washing my lunch dishes, my phone buzzes. It’s him.
Hi.
Hi back.
What r u doing?
Getting my shit together.
Shit?
Unpacking and grocery store. Going to hang pictures now.
Need my tool belt?
He is flirting again. I want to be coy, but...
U left it here yesterday. I’m wearing it right now.
Is that so?
Yep. And it looks damn fine on me, too.
I’ll bet it does.
Where r u?
Boating with the boys.
Any girls?
Do I really want to know the answer to that?
None wearing a tool belt.
So what r they wearing then?
Nothing that matters to me.
What the hell does that mean? That he isn’t looking at what they are wearing because he doesn’t give a damn, or that they aren’t wearing anything at all?
Define nothing.
It means that it doesn’t matter what they r wearing, or not wearing, as the case may b.
Because...?
Because whatever it is, it isn’t u in those blue panties.
U aren’t going to let any of those girls sit on your lap r u?
No, Emma. I am not.
Because I will kick your fucking ass if u do.
I know.
I slide my phone closed and put it back in my pocket. I can’t believe it, but the thought of David on some boat with a bunch
I breeze down the hallway and out into the living room. Four of David’s friends are on the brown couches and one is sitting on the floor. David, wearing only his black jeans, is just a few steps behind me. I stride right past his friends without making eye contact. But I know they are all looking at me...and I like it.
“Bye, boys,” I say, pleased with the confidence in my voice. I stop just inside the apartment door and wait for David to catch up. Once he’s next to me, I turn and push him into the wall. I hold the back of his neck and press my mouth to his, twisting against his tongue. He pulls me towards him by my waist. We kiss hard, and for a moment, I consider staying for the screwing and whatevering, but then I remember myself and pull away.
He lets go of my waist, and I walk out.
I contemplate standing outside his door to see if I can hear what they say, but then I decide I’d rather not, just in case it isn’t very flattering. I feel pretty damned convinced that David enjoyed that as much as I did, and I don’t want to hear otherwise. I walk my confident self back down the stairs and into my apartment.
It’s only eleven, and because of my impromptu nap this afternoon, I’m not the least bit tired. I take a long shower, washing David off my skin, and get dressed in sweats and a T-shirt. I spend the rest of the evening camped out on the couch watching reruns of South Park and drinking the rest of the mug wine. I think I occasionally hear someone going down the steps and out the front door, but I’m not about to peek out the window and see. I don’t want David to know I’m still thinking about him.
* * *
The sex, wine and reruns cause me to sleep in way later than I had planned. I haven’t checked anything off my weekend to-do list yet, unless you count the few boxes I unpacked yesterday before Michael showed up. After eating a breakfast bar, I set to the task of unpacking the rest of the boxes. When I am done, the only ones remaining are those from Michael—which I shove to the back of my closet and try to forget—and the ones containing the kitchen stuff that I can’t unpack until David is finished.
I spend the rest of my Sunday doing the mundane. Since I can now walk on the kitchen floor, I make a quick trip to the grocery store for some food, beer and more wine, and make myself a late lunch as soon as I return. Part of me was hoping to run into David while I was out, but then I recalled his note saying that he had plans for the day. When I finish washing my lunch dishes, my phone buzzes. It’s him.
Hi.
Hi back.
What r u doing?
Getting my shit together.
Shit?
Unpacking and grocery store. Going to hang pictures now.
Need my tool belt?
He is flirting again. I want to be coy, but...
U left it here yesterday. I’m wearing it right now.
Is that so?
Yep. And it looks damn fine on me, too.
I’ll bet it does.
Where r u?
Boating with the boys.
Any girls?
Do I really want to know the answer to that?
None wearing a tool belt.
So what r they wearing then?
Nothing that matters to me.
What the hell does that mean? That he isn’t looking at what they are wearing because he doesn’t give a damn, or that they aren’t wearing anything at all?
Define nothing.
It means that it doesn’t matter what they r wearing, or not wearing, as the case may b.
Because...?
Because whatever it is, it isn’t u in those blue panties.
U aren’t going to let any of those girls sit on your lap r u?
No, Emma. I am not.
Because I will kick your fucking ass if u do.
I know.
I slide my phone closed and put it back in my pocket. I can’t believe it, but the thought of David on some boat with a bunch
Similar Books
