Cursive&Caffeine:My son is at his dad's tonight for basketball. He won't be back until late. I have the house to myself, and I've been thinking about you all day.
Cursive&Caffeine:What if we stopped typing and actually talked?
I stare at the message, blinking hard.
Wild@Heart:You want to call me?
Cursive&Caffeine:I want to hear you. I want to know what you sound like when you say the things you type.
My thumb hovers for maybe half a second.
Wild@Heart:I'm calling you.
Mountain Mates has a voice feature, so two people can talk without any fear of revealing a phone number. I tap the button and take a deep breath to calm down, my heart in my throat.
It rings once. Then twice. Then on the third…
"Hi." Her voice is warm, slightly breathless, with a nervous laugh on the edge of it. And it guts me. It absolutely guts me. It's better than anything I imagined…a little low, a little raspy.
"Hi, trouble."
She laughs. And the sound of it pours through the phone and settles in my groin.
"Oh god," she says. "Your voice. That's not fair."
"What's not fair about it?"
"It's…" She pauses. "It's exactly what I was afraid of. Deep and smooth. I’m a goner.”
"Same, baby…same," I say, grinning so wide my face hurts.
We talk for a few minutes—nervous, giddy, and testing the new terrain of each other's voices. She laughs more than she talks at first, and every time she does I feel it everywhere.
Then the conversation slows.
"That night," she murmurs. "What you described. What you'd do…you left me in ruins, you know that?"
I close my eyes. My voice drops even lower. "I didn't want to stop. But I didn’t want to rush things."
"I don’t want you to stop…tonight.”
And that's it. That's the match hitting the gasoline.
"Where are you right now?" I ask, my voice already rougher than it was five seconds ago.
"In bed."
"What are you wearing?"
She laughs breathily. "Nothing exciting. A T-shirt and panties."
"That's where you're wrong." I shift against the pillows, letting the heat throb in my groin. "Take the shirt off for me."
There’s a pause and the rustle of fabric. "Done."
"Good girl."
The sound she makes—this tiny, sharp inhale—sends a bolt of electricity straight through me. "Now lie back. I want you to close your eyes and just listen to me."
