We share a jumbo-sized plate of nachos, drenched in cheese sauce, salsa, sour cream and fresh guacamole, sitting on two high bar stools, while I sip on another iced cold beer and Giselle sips demurely on her strawberry flavoured cocktail.
Gathering another chunk of cut up tomato onto a triangle shaped crisp, I squeeze Giselle’s upper thigh, a pang of warmth tap dancing across my heart when she lays her head on my shoulder in response.
“Did I do good?” I ask, needing to hear her answer.
“Good at what?”
“Planning our date. Surprising you.”
Giselle lifts her head, those eyes of hers capturing every inch of my attention. I never want to look away from her, but when she looks at me like she’s doing right now, as if she can see right into my soul, I find my heart begin to pick up speed, the connection between us sparking with electricity and desire and respect.
“You did so good, Hudson.” She smiles softly. “I’ve loved every second of it.”
Once we’ve cleared the plate of food, even the jalapenos – much to Giselle’s shake of her head, as I offer her a bite of the spicy food – we slip off the stools.
Giselle’s hand slips into mine as if it’s made to fit there, allowing me to lead her through the throng of people swinging miniature golf clubs and into the back of a taxi.
London, dusted in bright golden lights pass us by as we drive past. Pools of amber, dripping from the streetlamps, lay incircles on the cool concrete pavement, lighting the way. While the Thames shines a reflection of the architecture standing proudly on either side of its enormous banks, murky and depthless, so dark hardly a colour has been invented to describe it, from centuries of use.
I stroke the pad of my thumb over the soft valleys of Giselle’s knuckles, along the cold, but smooth, surface of the plain gold ring she wears.
I’ve come to notice that it’s the only jewellery she wears on her fingers.
“I like this,” I say, catching her attention from where she’d been watching London whizz by us. “It suits you.”
“Thank you,” she all but whispers. “Do you think so?”
I nod.
“Maybe I’ll have to go shopping for another ring soon, then, because I don’t think I’ll be wearing this one for much longer, do you?”
I feel my brows knit together in confusion. “Why? What’s wrong with one—”
“I bought it for myself when I decided to become celibate. It’s my celibacy ring. I promised myself I would wear it for as long as I wasn’t having sex…but I think that’s going to be changing soon, don’t you?”
It takes a second for Giselle’s words to filter into my brain, settling there as I grasp her meaning.
“You’ve never taken it off as long as you’ve been…”
Giselle shakes her head. “Nope.”
I glide my thumb over the gold ring again, this time with more purpose.
Something so small, so plain, something I’ve looked at so many times, it’s so easy to miss… and yet it means something huge to Giselle.
Swallowing thickly, I raise Giselle’s left hand to my mouth, pressing my lips to her celibacy ring. Not once do my eyes leave hers, cataloguing the sweet pink blush building in her cheeks and the shutter of her lashes as she stares right back at me.
My skin prickles with the intensity, the electricity between us crackling. The air in the back of our London taxi becomes stifling, attraction and reverence bursting between us.
There’s no doubt about it; I can’t wait to tear Giselle’s clothes off of her tight body. To taste her again, but this time in my bed,mysheets clenched between her fists. To feel her tight cunt milking my cock, while I play with her clit, finding just the right way she likes to be touched.
But there’s something building inside of me other than lust.
I’m not sure it’s something I can name because it’s not something I’ve felt before.
It’s not something I’ve everletmyself feel before.
I admire Giselle in a way I’ve never admired anyone other than my parents or my brothers before. I respect her, I care about what she thinks, I care about her opinion, I care about her happiness and not just my own.
