Page 52 of Sugar Pie
“I’m a mess, Warren.” I met his gaze. I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t. Then my eyes fluttered closed, and my lips tingled. His lips met mine, and I forgot the world.
“I love you.”
I trembled but tugged him into the living room. The Berber rug was all we had, and it was fine. I stripped off our clothes.
As he brushed against my chest and kissed my nipples, I realized it was impossible to bottle my feelings. Tears formed in my eyes.
He said, “I’m making love to you.”
I nodded and knew that was the truth. He put on a condom, and as he entered me, I arched to let him go as deep as he could. We both knew we belonged together.
30
I’m on a secret project that is taking me away from home, but I promise I’ll reveal what I discovered soon, and my next blog should be full of the juiciest secrets ever.
Gossip and burn the rich.
Yours truly,
Regina, your gossip goddess you can’t escape from.
Warren
The sun shone on my face from the plastic vinyl shades that had been bent in the corners. With Kerry in my arms, the day felt perfect. I held her as we lay on the floor.
The laptop was in the corner of the room, and the sunshine bleeding on it from broken shades meant I was late for work.
I had the world I wanted. Since starting my adventure, I’d spent the days working with my hands and my nights with the sweetest woman I’d ever know. It was time to tell her who I was, though.
I held her tightly, but she snored, so I picked her up.
She deserved the bed. And soon, she would have sixteen-hundred-thread-count cotton sheets and everything she ever desired.
She didn’t stop me, and I deposited her on the bed.
She sighed, and when her eyes batted open, I grew hard again. “Kerry, you’re awake.”
She kissed my cheek. “You’re a sweetheart, Warren.”
Part of me wanted to stay and have her again. I needed to show her how much I loved her.
If I told the truth immediately, we would have the time to forget the world. My skin burned. “I have a job to get to.”
She sighed, let me go, and stretched as she stood. “I remember. I make your schedule. I’ll scan for any last-minute stuff to add, so keep your phone on.”
We headed to the kitchen and made new toast for her. I took the dry bread for myself. “Tonight, we’ll go out to eat,” I said.
“I’ll cook something here.” She grabbed my arm and held up her hand. “I packed your lunch.”
I finished my toast and poured us both coffees. I made an exception just to taste her coffee, as it was what she loved most—I wanted it on my lips when I was away. “You spoil me.”
She laughed and filled a plastic bento box she’d picked up somewhere. “I’m just happy you eat what I prepare and don’t think everything a chef does is superior to home cooking.”
She trusted me. I hugged her waist. “Well, a night out with you would be fun too.”
She put the box on the counter and curled into my arms one more time. Then she said, “True, but we’re on a mission.”
She didn’t know my true mission. She only knew some of it, and making her mine took priority. I let her go and said, “I wanted to talk to you this morning.”
