Page 53 of 7 Miles High
“Do it.”
She faces the back wall and stands ready. I pour the shampoo in my hand and then apply it to the crown of her head.
“Wait. I need a little more in the back here.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she says.
I apply another dollop to the long strands and work it into a froth. Rivers of shampoo trace the shape of her back and traverse the curve of her ass. My fingers massage her scalp and she relaxes into the motion.
“That feels wonderful,” she says.
I reach around her and shampoo the tiny triangle between her legs. The landing strip. She giggles and presses against my hand. I can’t get enough of whatever she’s made of. My only problem is to rein in my impulse to go to the next level.
The impulse to say ‘I love you’ is strong now. But I know it won’t hurt to wait until I think she’d say the same thing back. There’s a history behind her. Behind us both. And I don’t want to fuck things up because I’m impatient. Better that I give it more time.
So instead of whispering those three words in her ear, I nibble.
* * *
The sound of the cell wakes us both. That kind of fucking requires a break. We fell asleep when it was still light outside. Now by the shadows on the wall it’s nearly dinnertime. Natalie reaches for her phone, looks at the screen then sets it back down.
“That idiot.”
“Which one?” I say, knowing full well who she’s referring to.
Her beautiful blues look up at me. “Alex.”
Now I’m annoyed. He not only is a persistent aggravation, but he’s interrupting my sleep.
“That guy needs to have a stick rammed up his ass. What exactly is his problem? Why don’t you block him?”
When the words leave my mouth I hear the anger. He’s pissing me off more than I realized.
“There’s absolutely nothing between us, you know. He’s never called before. But you’re right. I’ll do it today.”
I bring her body close and smooth the wild strands of her hair.
“It’s just aggravating. Is he deaf? You’ve told him more than once you’re not interested. Next time I’ll be the one sending the message.”
“You have my permission. He’s not a fighter. One firm message should do the job.”
That piece of information makes me smile. How transparent. I’m happy the dude is a wuss. I could take him in a fight if it got to that, although I never pick on inferior physical specimens. What good is it to get into a fight with a man you can easily overpower?
I guess my teenage fist fights and the ones I’ve choreographed over the years in film have embedded themselves in my brain. I can’t deny there’s something satisfying about being able to defend yourself. And I’m very confident in that category.
“What are you thinking about? You’re far away,” she says softly.
“I’m imagining getting into it with your ex. He’s really a dick. It pisses me off.”
She rubs a hand over my chest and down my torso.
“You’re right. He is. But he’s not worth any more of our time. Nobody else matters you know. Not my ex, or yours. It’s just us now.”
I relax into her words and store them to be remembered when we are apart. She said it and it’s true.
“You’re right. Thank you for reminding me.” I kiss the top of her head and she snuggles closer. I’m going to chill out. Why look for trouble where there is none?
* * *
