Page 50 of Waiting For Ever
Picturing her like that stamps down the surge of anger from reliving the morning. The click of the bathroom door reaches my ears just before her hands snake around my middle and her cheek presses into my shoulder blade.
“Hi.” Her soft breath warms my skin through my shirt.
“Hi, sweet girl.” I turn in her arms and clasp mine loosely around her lower back and look down into her flushed face. Her cheeks always go pink when I call her sweet girl. I kiss each one lightly. “Your talk with your sister sounded . . . exciting?”
“She’s engaged.” Her eyes go wide, brows arching up.
“Isn’t she my age?” I share her surprise.
“M-hm.”
“Wow.” I snug my arms tighter around her.
“But they act like an old married couple already, so I guess it’s good they’re making it official. They’re both like old souls.”
“You sound thrilled for them.” My words drip sarcasm. My chin is tilted up and resting on top of her head, my arms still wrapped securely around her.
“No, I am. I just . . . Chase is Ryan’s best friend. I’m going to have to see him at the wedding. Fuck, am I going to have to walk down the aisle with him?” She pulls back and turns her frown on me, eyes wide.
“Well, it’s not happening right now, so that’s a worry for another day.”
“No . . . you’re right.” Then with a heavy sigh, she adds, “Thanks for today, Julie. Sorry for the meltdown.”
“Why do you do that?” I tighten my arms around her again. I want to shelter her from all the shit that makes her want to shrink, apologize for who she is.
She shrugs in my arms and squeezes me a little tighter. “What’d you say to him anyway?”
“Basically, for him to tell his friends there was a mix-up in the schedule and they needed to check out early. Or I would tell them my version. He agreed to go quietly.” I feel her cheeks arch up against my chest.
“Thanks for that.”
“You already said that.” I toss her line at her. “And you’re welcome, Ever. Always. Whatever you need.” I want her to explain what happened back home. But I don’t want to push her, take her back to that panicshe felt. I exhale a deep sigh and wait. When she says nothing, I ask instead what she feels like doing with the rest of the day. It’s late afternoon and I think we all were glad to leave Brew and hope that the campers didn’t need us until tomorrow. “We could go grab a quick workout. Or figure out what to make for dinner. Or maybe you just want to be alone?”
“I’m kinda beat. Aren’t you tired? You were awake before I was. Not that that’s anything new.”
“I’m not tired. But I’m more in the mood to relax than workout.”
“Same. In fact, I could use a hot shower.”
“Okay, maybe I’ll go figure out dinner while you shower.” The domestic vibe of our conversation puts a dull ache in my chest and a longing in my gut. I ignore the urge to rub the tattoo on my chest.
Ever leans up on her toes and presses a soft kiss just below my ear. Before she releases her arms from my waist, she speaks so close to my ear her breath raises the hair on my arms. “Maybe you could just help me . . . wash my back?”
Her words send blood rushing to my crotch.
She turns and steps toward the bathroom, and I follow in her trance. She turns on the spray and closes the door to wait for it to heat. I’m there in her space. I step to her and capture her lips in mine, pushing hers apart with my tongue and tangling it with hers. I clench the hem of her shirt and roll it up her body, only breaking the kiss to whip it over her head. She does the same to my shirt.
I roll her leggings off her hips and down her thighs. No thong! My pants strain with that knowledge. Her fingers fumble with the waistband of my joggers and push them down my hips, taking my boxerbriefs with them. My hands cup her face as I kiss her deeply, and she’s panting when I pull back.
The bathroom is steaming and fogging the air.
As I reach for the door handle on the shower, Ever pulls her sports bra over her head. I hold the door open, and she dips under my arm, steps into the spray, closes her eyes and leans her head back under the showerhead. Water sluices off her body. I step in and close the door. She opens her eyes as it clicks and pins me with her storm-cloud gaze, dropping her hands to her sides.
I step to her and join her under the spray, swiping my hand down my face to clear the water from my eyes. I seize her hips and brace her against the side wall, so the spray still reaches both of us. I lean my face into her and kiss her again while I pull her hips to mine. Her hands flying to my ass, fingers digging in, is all the encouragement I need. My hand drops to her vee. I touch her slowly, tentatively. I break the kiss to ask, “Are you sore?”
“Uh-uh. Maybe a little. I don’t care.” She grinds into my hand, reaching for my wrist to make me give her what she wants.
She’s so wet, and not from the shower. I slip a finger inside her and swallow her moan with another deep kiss, my tongue mimicking my finger. She lifts her leg and hooks it on my hip, giving me more access. She’s never done this. She’s moving on instinct.
