“Among other things.”
Other things. Instead of nodding, or giving a flip remark, I reach out cup and her cheek. So soft and round and warm. I brush my thumb over her lips and smile with amazement as she draws in her breath.
Is this really happening?
I lean closer, brushing my lips against the tip of her nose that turns up so slightly, against the corner of the green eyes that turn down.
Against her mouth, slightly open and smelling sweetly of grapes.
She closes her eyes. “Please.”
That one word…
I lean into her, lean into the kiss with all the attention I use on the latest formulas. Rachel’s mouth is more of a revelation than she is. I expect her to kiss me back as fiercely as she ate the croissant or defended her dog, but instead, her lips are tender. Tentative.
Gentle.
My hand slips around her head, through the downy softness of her hair. I lean in closer, caught up, caught off guard by how a woman with such a mouth can have such a mouth.
“I don’t usually ask,” she murmurs as I pull away. “But I thought you might like to.” Her eyes open and I stir at the direct way she looks at me.
There’s nothing tentative about that look.
“It’s the polite thing to do,” I say surprised that I can come up with the words. All I want to do is kiss her until neither of us can find any words
“You’re very polite.”
“I don’t have to be.” And then I kiss her again.
“Oh, wow,” she murmurs when I pause. “That works too.”
9
Rachel
I never expected that.
Maybe I did. Maybe I secretly wanted Boen to kiss me like I’m a glass of water and he hasn’t had a drink in days.
Maybe I did want him to push my Blue Jays jersey off my shoulders as carefully as if it were a priceless leather coat, and then pull off my tank top like he’s frantic to touch my skin.
Boen is a much better kisser than I ever could have hoped for. I thought he’d be fumbling and hesitant, but like so many things in my life, I got that wrong. No, Boen kisses with authority, and abandonment, and the perfect amount of tongue.
He’s also a great multi-tasker, able to focus on kissing as he unhooks my bra. He finds the sensitive spot under my ear as his hand slips between my legs.
He retrieves a condom from upstairs in record speed and puts it on just as quickly.
I don’t even notice how hard the floor is.
Until I wake up,sunlight streaming through the window.
The floor is stiff and unyielding beneath me and for a moment, I can’t think of why my bed would be so uncomfortable.
And then I realize I’m not in my bed.
Curled up burrito-style with the edge of the comforter, I stare at the blank wall above the television. There should be a picture there, I decide. Something with colour on the taupe wall.
Taupe is my least favourite colour.
