Page 91 of Choosing a Forever
“I’m so sorry. I should have asked. I just thought—never mind. It doesn’t matter. I’m so sorry.” He blindly grabs things from his drawers and rushes to the bathroom, locking himself inside.
I stand there, tracing my lips with my fingertips. The faintest hint of my arousal from his mustache lingers on my lips, and it only makes my belly swoop with more desire.
I put my shorts back on, strip the bed and am in the middle of remaking it when he emerges from the bathroom in fresh basketball shorts and a new T-shirt.
He helps me put the sheet on, then I go to the bathroom. When I come out, he’s already lying down with his back to me.
I don’t like how awkward this feels.
I tap his shoulder, which causes him to turn over before I lean in slowly, so if he wants to move away he can. When he doesn’t, I gingerly press my lips to his. It’s a chaste, quick kiss, but I think it’s enough to have him relaxing.
“Good night, Bear. Sweet dreams.” I turn off the lamp and settle under the covers.
The bed shifts, and I feel him scoot close and put his arm over my waist.
“Good night, Firefly.” His breath fans the back of my neck, and goosebumps rise along my arms.
Feeling comfortable and relaxed, I drift off.
I swear I hear him whisper, “I love you,” before sleep overtakes me.
Chapter 32
Talmage
17 years old…
“Did you hear Mackenzie had to miss rehearsal today because she had to go to the hospital?” one of the girls next to me in choir whispers to her friend.
My ears perk up at the mention of Mack.
Things between us have been cordial. She rarely looks at me if she doesn’t have to, but I don’t blame her.
I’ve heard she’s dated a few other guys. I’ve seen her pictures with them on dates or at dances on Facebook.
I’m happy she seems happy.
Except sometimes, I wonder if she’s actually happy, or if she’s putting on a really good mask. She’s looked tired lately and has missed a lot of school.
We’re choreography partners again for the spring musical, and not having her at rehearsal makes it difficult to do the right steps.
Something must be really wrong if she’s at the hospital, and worry slithers up my spine.
I can’t hear the rest of the conversation, but I make a mental note to ask her if she’s okay at our next rehearsal. Not that she’ll tell me anything.
There’s been another shift since I had the honor of tasting Mack a few nights ago—since she kissed me tenderly, and my lips haven’t felt the same.
We sleep curled together now, and I’ve braved giving her kisses goodbye, but we haven’t done anything more. Slight brushes of hands here, a peck on the lips there.
I’ll go at whatever speed she needs, but the craving I have for her has only increased. I’ve done more research on how to bring her pleasure, eager to make our next time even better for her.
Every morning, I wake up with an erection so hard it’s almost painful after being pressed against her soft body. I’m constantly buzzing with anticipation in her presence—what do we do next? Does she want more?
The way she’s looking at me right now across the dinner table makes me think she does, but I’m too scared to ask.
I worked an early shift today, getting home in time to make a nice dinner for us. Harper and Kinsley are home, too, so we’re having a rare family dinner.
Siren is lying on the floor by Harper’s feet, probably hoping someone will drop a piece of chicken.
