Page 9 of July
7
Garrett
Kissing Charity is even more life-affirming than I remember. She’s everything to me, and I ache to show her how vital she is to my existence.
A growl emerges from deep in my throat as we stand on the darkened path by the river devouring each other’s mouths. I pull her into me, unable to get close enough to her.
I want nothing more than to strip her out of her clothes and claim her as mine––once and for all. But we can’t risk anyone seeing us. The playground is nearby. Although the chance is small that any kids would be out this late in the evening, being a father makes me understand how much a child’s innocence means and how parents want to preserve it for as long as possible.
Somehow, I find the strength to pull back from Charity’s sweet lips. My chest is heaving when I say, “Let’s go someplace where we can have some privacy.”
“Yes,” the simple answer slips from her lips and fills my heart with joy.
We jog hand in hand and giddy with anticipation to my SUV. Once I have the vehicle running, I turn to say, “I haven’t had a chance to clean up my apartment since Silas stayed over. Can we go to your place?”
“Oh, umm… sure. I live in my parents’ basement.”
“What?” The surprised question emerges from my mouth before I have a chance to consider if it’s wise.
Charity picks at a piece of invisible lint on her lap as she explains, “I’m an investment broker at a nationwide firm. One of my financial goals is to be able to buy my own home without having to get a mortgage. I’ve almost saved up enough money to get a small place of my own.”
She sounds defensive. Proud of her for making much wiser choices than I have, I say sincerely, “That’s so smart of you.”
Her cheeks brighten as she turns to look at me before asking, “How about you? What do you do for a living?”
“I’m in insurance. It’s not the most exciting thing in the world, but I’ve turned it into a hefty six-figure income.”
I know she isn’t dazzled by my salary because Charity isn’t impressed by materialistic things, but I want her to know that I won’t be a drain on her lofty financial goals, if we’re able to forge a future together.
As I drive us toward my underwhelming apartment, I add, “My apartment is functional, but it isn’t anything grand. It’s only temporary, though. I’m saving up to buy a house, too. Plus, Jillian’s wedding planning business is starting to take off, so she will soon be able to buy me out of my half of the house we shared.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Charity quietly nod. Bringing up the home I shared with Jillian and our son is not ideal on our first date as adults. Wanting to change the subject to something lighter and more focused on her, I say, “As much as I would love to see your parents again sometime, I want you all to myself tonight.”
“That sounds nice,” she murmurs quietly.
Once we’re on a long stretch of straight road, I reach over to take her hand within mine. Lifting it to my lips, I press a kiss to her smooth skin and breathe in deeply. “You still smell the same. It’s the best scent in the entire world.”
“It’s the Chanel perfume you bought me for my sixteenth birthday,” she reveals.
“You still have that?” I ask, surprised that she would use it so sparingly.
“No,” she giggles at me before adding, “It’s my signature scent, so I wear it every day. After that first bottle you gave me ran out, I planned to buy another brand. I smelled every sample bottle in the store, but I kept coming back to the one you had selected for me. You’d already broken up with me by then, but knowing that I was wearing a scent you had chosen gave me a secret little thrill.”
“I smelled all of them, too, when I was shopping for your gift. That one was unique and by far the best, so I decided it was perfect for you.” I grin over at her before dragging my gaze back to watch the road.
“Every single time I run out of it, I tell myself that I’m going to try something else, but I always end up buying more of the same. It’s so classic.”
Knowing that she still wears the scent I selected for her all those years ago sends a shiver of delight racing down my spine. I wonder if she thinks of me when she sprays it on the long column of her throat or rubs it into her pulse points. I can’t wait to get right up next to all of the delectable places she scents with it. The mere idea of it makes my manhood grow firm and strain outward, seeking release.
After I pull into the parking lot next to my apartment building and park, I turn to look at the woman of my dreams. “I can’t believe this is really happening. You’re my destiny, Charity. You always have been. I’ve dreamed about making love with you since we were kids. Are we really finally going to do this?”
Normally, feelings are the last thing I want to discuss with anyone, but Charity makes me long to be open and vulnerable.
She seems to think over her answer for too long. My throat goes dry as I wonder if she might have changed her mind about being with me. Or perhaps I misunderstood her intent.
Relief floods my system after she swallows audibly and says in a husky voice that is filled with emotion, “Yes, let’s do this.”
