He nods his head in understanding and steps outside as Daisy reenters the room, meeting me in the middle of the mess of feathers.
Slipping her arm through mine and resting her head against my biceps, she sighs. “Our daughter has done a bad thing.”
“It was just a pillow.”
“This time. What if she were to ruin one of my shoes? That would be a travesty.”
“Well, you only need the left one, so she has a fifty-fifty chance of ruining the right shoe.”
She gasps and swats at me. “How dare you?”
“The truth can be hard. I know.” I kiss the top of her head. “C’mon, let’s pick up after our little monster.”
“Whatever.”
The two of us clean up, marveling at how many feathers fit in one throw pillow. Once we think we’ve got them all, Daisy collapses on the couch, and one renegade feather floats out from between the cushions.
“I have a feeling we’ll be finding feathers for a while,” she says, blowing it away from her face before a yawn escapes her.
All I hear is that she’s gonna be here for a while. The feathers aren’t even on my radar.
“You look tired. Go put your foot up and I’ll get everything set up.”
“What's there to set up?”
“You said you wanted a house party. That’s what you’re gonna get.” I offer my hands to help her up. “Go rest.”
Once she’s on her feet in front of me, she wraps her arms around my middle, pressing a kiss to the cotton over my tattoo. “I don’t deserve you.”
Does she feel the way her words jumpstart my heart until it’s nearly pounding out of my chest?
“You’ve got things twisted, baby. I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you, but there isn’t anything either of us can do about it. I’m stuck, remember?”
She doesn’t confirm my question with words. Instead, she moves her hands behind my neck to bring my mouth to hers. Now I know she must feel the racing of my heart as she glides her hands over my chest and down my torso until she grips the hem of my T-shirt. The warmth of her soft body against mine and the whimper that escapes her when I trace her top lip with my tongue create a hypnotic combination for my senses.
This tender caress is her confirmation. Still too scared to tell me how she feels, she’s showing me instead, and for now, I’ll take it.
Our kiss remains just that. A kiss. Both of us are content with our current mode of communication. Knowing this intimacy is more than ripping each other's clothes off.
It’s important she knows what I feel for her is more than sex. She is my person. The one I want to grow old with. The one I want a family with. She’s it for me.
Eventually, Maui crying from her crate forces us to come up for air. “Go rest. I’ll let her out.”
“If I had dollar bills, I would make it rain!” Daisy yells over J-Kwon’s “Tipsy”, from her spot on the sofa where I take it she’s enjoying her lap dance. The woman loves it when I twerk, so of course, I’m giving her what she wants.
Needing to touch her, I join her on the couch. Grinding my hips against her as I straddle her, I whisper in her ear. “Your money’s no good here, Clover. But I can think of other ways you can show your appreciation.”
“With pleasure, Cinnamon,” she purrs, using the stripper name she gave me on night two of my lip-sync performances. “Trade places with me and I’ll appreciate the hell out of you.” She presses against my chest to move me.
Curious, I move so I’m sitting on the couch, while she gets up and stands between my legs, lightly kicking my feet apart to grant her more room.
When she starts to drop to her knees, I stop her. “No, baby. Not right now.”
“Yes, right now.”
“You’re still healing. I don’t want you to do anything that causes you more pain than you’re already in.”
“Then how will I show you how much I appreciate you?”
