Page 67 of Mr. July

“Then give me what I want.” I challenged. I wanted to taste him, make him reach the stars too.

He hissed my name as I got my way. “Tastes better than the gummy ones,” I whispered right before he shuddered and fell back on the bed.

“Stay,” he whispered, stroking my hair as I moved to get up.

“I can’t. We need to make it at least to date number thirteen.”

He groaned. “Now you understand why I’ve been fighting you over how many we’ve had.”

“I’m not a virgin or a slut. I just… I’m afraid of getting hurt again.” He turned his head on the pillow, his hand, stroking mine.

“I’m not that fuck you dated. Look, I’m hardly a saint. I was on a few hook-up apps last year. I quit, cold when I realized I wanted something more. I wasn’t sure what that was until you. We’ll slow this down. This weekend we just collided after months of pent-up feelings that changed quickly. But I’m not going to lead you on into something I’m not willing to see through. And I’ve never cheated. I hate cheaters. Watching my father rip my family apart was enough to make sure I never wanted to be like him.”

I nodded suddenly feeling like I was going to cry and not exactly knowing why. “I need to go.”

“Are you sure? Stay, I’ll just hold you.” I hesitated, thought of my apartment that felt empty these past few nights. “Take a shower, help yourself to my clothes. I’m going to make sure Hunter hasn’t gotten past second base with Char while I take Daisy out.”

I bit my lip nodded and went into his bathroom. I took a hot shower, found one of his workout shirts and crawled into his bed. He came in some time later, took his own shower and curled up behind me. “Good night, beautiful.” He kissed the back of my neck as his thick forearm, wrapped around my waist, pulling me back into him. He moved a leg over mine, anchoring me to him. “I sleep with the ac on full arctic blast. I don’t want you getting cold. By the way, sleeping counts as date number four. In the colonial days I believed they called it ‘bundling.’ The couple would go to bed after their version of a date, but the girl would be sewn into the quilt like a sleeping bag.”

“How do you know this?”

“Eighth grade American history. North Carolina is full of American history. A lot of Scots were sent to settle the colonies and push west after they lost their battle for freedom against the crown. Wilmington was the port the Royal Navy used to bring them all here.”

“I’m very impressed with your patriotic knowledge Mr. July.” I turned in his arms, finding his lips, peppering them with kisses.

“Stop, wench. I’m trying to behave here.”

“You’ll just have to sew me in.”

“Date number four?”

“Date number four,” I agreed as we kissed deeply before he pulled back forcing me to sigh as he spooned me again. “I changed my mind. Forget thirteen. My new number is six.”

“Not five?” He chuckled against my hair.

“The way you keep count, five will be coffee and toast.”

Twenty-Five

“Did you reach her?”

“No. Her phone still goes straight to voicemail.”

Bunny smirked, as she continued clicking away on her keyboard.

“Don’t say it.” I warned.

“Nope. Not a word from me.”

My hair was sticking up in the back. My usually crisp, starched shirts had a few wrinkles and pieces of dog hair on it. I was called back to Durham for important meetings. My plans to work remotely dissipated before I could implement them. Instead of date number five with my girl, she left on the research vessel to go tag sharks in the Bahamas for a week. We had our one magical weekend and then bam, life slammed into us disrupting our plans.

My cell buzzed. Shit. It was the management company that runs the building my condo’s in.

“Mr. Carmichael?”

“Yes?”

“We’re receiving multiple complaints again today about the sound of a wailing dog coming from your unit.”

---