Page 72 of Yours, Unexpectedly

It’s a quick battle between my heart and my feet.

My feet win, carrying me away, yet again.

Everything is on the table now, literally and figuratively. I wanted to make dinner for Bex tonight because I know it can be intimidating, feeling like you have to prove the legitimacy of something you care about, and I wanted to do everything I could to put her at ease during our first interaction with Gabe as a couple.

I won’t lie, there was also a part of me that knew Gabe wouldn’t take us seriously until he felt like we had discussed my past. It is hard to talk about sometimes, but not with Bex. I had the fleeting thought this morning that this would be the thing to make her run, but it was just that—fleeting. I knew Bex might not completely understand, but she would never judge. Never make me feel less than because of choices I’ve made.

I can’t stop looking at her tonight. I keep sneaking glances, double checking that she’s still there and this isn’t some fever dream. I might be overdoing it because at one point she asked me if she had something on her face. But I can’t help it. Every laugh at something stupid Gabe says, every time her tongue comes out to lick pasta sauce off her lips, every time she raises that sassy eyebrow at me—I fall a little more in love with her.

We finish up dinner and Bex helps me clean up, even though I insisted she didn’t need to. Gabe took me at my word and turned on a basketball game, planting himself on the couch.

I take the opportunity to spend some one-on-one time with Bex.

“Hi,” I whisper as I come up next to her at the kitchen sink, even though we’ve been together for several hours now.

“Hi,” she replies, stopping to give me a quick peck. “Thanks for having me tonight.”

“I would have you every night.” I try to make the innuendo clear by pulling her back to my front, snaking my arms around her waist and kissing her neck.

“Gabe is right there!” she quietly chastises.

“Then let’s finish up these dishes and go to my room,” I say, continuing to kiss up her neck. She tilts her head to the side, granting me better access. “You’ll have to be quiet. Can you do that for me, Baby Bardot?”

She nods, seemingly in a lust-induced daze.

Once we’re done, I drag her down the hall, shouting over my shoulder to Gabe, “We’re going to go watch a movie!”

“Ew, I know what that’s code for. I’m going down to Louie’s,” he replies, popping up from the sofa and heading toward the front door.

I don’t have time to give him a response before he’s gone and I have Bex all to myself. I stop and pull her into my arms, kissing her long and deep. “I missed you,” I murmur between kisses.

She laughs into my mouth. “You were with me all weekend, earlier today, and all night tonight.”

“Not enough.” Kiss. “Never enough.” Kiss. I tap her ass twice before commanding, “Up.” She listens, like she always does when we’re together like this. Immediately, she’s in my arms, legs wrapped around my waist. I push her up against the wall, grinding into her. She groans, her head falling back, and I take that as my cue to suck across the constellation on her chest.

“I need… more,” comes her breathy plea.

I roll my hips into her again, lining us up so my erection passes right over her clit each time I move up and down. I’m rewarded with a moan that lights my body on fire. I need inside this woman—now.

Pulling her off the wall, I push the door open and walk her over to my bed, gently laying her down without breaking contact with her mouth. She tastes so sweet.

She tastes like mine.

After what could have been thirty seconds or five minutes—I lose track of myself with her—she pulls back and maneuvers us so she’s now on top. My breath catches as I take in what might be my new favorite view. She’s looking down at me, desire painting her features, hair in a halo around her face. Her lips are swollen from my kisses and her chest is rising and falling as she watches me. Slowly, she reaches down and pulls her shirt over her head, exposing inch after glorious inch of bare skin as she goes. I’m infatuated with her—entranced by the smooth skin across her stomach, dotted with freckles just like her chest.

My hands reach up to her hips and squeeze in encouragement. I want to get her bra off, but my desire to watch her do it wins out. Bex reaches back and unlatches the hooks, letting the straps fall down, teasing me with a view of the tops of her pink nipples. My hips buck involuntarily which puts a saucy grin on her face.

“Everything okay down there?” she asks.

“Fine,” I grit out.

“You aren’t hoping for anything in particular?”

“I’m hoping you take that godforsaken bra off before I rip it off myself.”

“Well, since you used your words.” She pulls it off and drops it next to us on the bed.

Reaching around to pinch her ass, I remind her, “You know what happens to bratty mouths in the bedroom, Baby Bardot.”

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