Page 63 of Just the Tipsy
Especially here with her. Sure, we could go out every other night just to go out, or make elaborate plans. But just being able to fully relax with someone and get the same pleasure out of it as spending time alone isn’t an everyday occurrence for me.
It’s almost terrifyingly easy to slide Bianca into place in all the regular things I do, like she’s supposed to be here.
But friendship can feel the same way, can’t it? It has to. The friendship side and the sex side of our relationship need to stay as far apart as possible, even if she looks really fucking pretty sitting across the table from me.
TWENTY
BIANCA
This conversation was supposedto be a casual dinner chat, not a revelation that hanging out with Waylon feels as easy and natural as hanging around by myself.
I shouldn’t want him the way I want him right now. I want more dinners and comfortable silences. More of this calmness that I’ve only ever felt around him or the people closest to me. More of his warm, genuine smiles.
I swig down some of my wine to soothe my dry mouth. Wanting him physically is the least complicated way I could want him. He wants to fuck me, I want to fuck him. I want to (continue to) learn what good sex is actually like.
I need to focus on that. Ineed to. Because imagining more is the worst thing I can do. Staying in Jepsen is temporary. And even if it wasn’t, Waylon told me he flat out didn’t want anything serious.
After I finish eating, I stretch, and his eyes go to my (admittedly modest) cleavage.
“I’ve got it,” he says to me when I stand up to put my dish in the sink.
“Thanks. But aren’t I supposed to do the dishes or something because you did most of the cooking?” I ask. “It’s like four things and you have a dishwasher.”
“You really don’t have to.” He takes my dish and pops it into the dishwasher. “You helped.”
“Fine, let me get the pot and cutting board, at least.” I nudge my way in front of him to the sink and start washing the big things.
“Thanks.” He rests his hip against the counter and watches me.
His body language is relaxed but I’m definitely not relaxed. I’m wound tight, aching between my thighs already just from the way he’s looking at me. It’s like my body knows what comes after that look.
He snags one of my curls and gently tugs it, winding it around his finger. He isn’t even touching my skin and electricity makes its way all the way through my body.
His hand travels down the side of my neck to cup the back, his skin slightly rough against mine. The little circles he makes with his thumbs give me chills as I finish cleaning the last pot.
The contrast between the friendly, polite version of him in public, and this version, who looks like he wants to devour me, sends a bolt of warmth down my spine.
“All done,” I say, looking up at him. “Though to be honest, you distracted me.”
“A good distraction?” He pulls me closer to him.
“Very good.” I glance at his lips. I want him to kiss me, but now I’m rethinking it. Does he think it’s too intimate to just do that? There’s a big difference between a kiss to start and kissing me in the heat of the moment.
He kisses the side of my neck instead, his hands roaming all over me. Adjusting to my post-modeling body — even though it’s not that different — has been hard, but the way he can tellme he’s into me without saying a word eases some of my fears. His hands skim down my hips and around to my ass, giving it a squeeze.
“Any ideas about what you want to learn today?” he asks, his lips on my collarbone.
“I brought some toys,” I say, letting my hands inch up his chest. “Just in case.”
“That’s perfect.” He grins, his fingers threading in mine. “C’mon.”
I let him lead me upstairs, scooping up my tote bag on the way. We pass by what looks like his home office before we reach his bedroom. It’s very him — tidy but not so tidy that it feels like no one actually lives there. He gently nudges me to sit down on the bed and he shuts the door behind us.
“So the dogs don’t bother us,” he says, putting out his hand for the bag. I hand it over.
He nods as he looks inside — it’s just a small dildo and a wand vibrator. How is he planning to use them? He gently pushes me onto my back, covering my body with his and boxing me in. The heat and size of him over me is about to make my heart beat out of my chest.
It nearly does when he leans down and kisses me, deep and dirty from the start. Nothing at all like the kiss we would have shared in the kitchen. I thread my fingers through his soft, dark hair and throw my leg over his hip. I want to feel every moment of this — just us, his arm behind my back to hold me closer.
