“Better than Starbucks,” he said with his mouth full, “but notenoughbetter, you know?”
She nodded. Tom was making her laugh. He was in a good mood. “I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered.
He looked over at her. At her face. In her eyes. “I’m glad I’m here, too.”
Cherry swallowed.
Tom leaned in to kiss her. He leaned in slowly—she had plenty of time to get away. Cherry lifted up her chin.
It was much gentler than anything they’d tried last night. She smiled.
He moved his head to kiss her from the other angle. She smiled even bigger.
Tom put his hand on her coffee cup, to take it away. Cherry held on to it. She broke the kiss—“One more drink.”
She took another gulp of latte, then handed it to him. He took a swig, too, before setting it on the table. Then he turned back to Cherry with both arms. She let go of the blanket. Tom got his hands on her and sighed. She kissed him.
“You’re still warm,” he said, dragging her down onto the pillows.
She went.
“It was so hard not waking you up...” he said in a hushed voice. “I had to leave the building.”
“You could have woken me up.”
“I didn’t want you to tell me to go,” he said even more quietly.
Cherry kissed him—because nothing she was thinking could be said out loud. “I would never tell you to go”was a lie. “I never want you to go”was too true. She didn’t want to say anything that would cast them too far into their past or their future. She didn’t want Tom to wake up.
“So warm,” Tom said between kisses. He was rubbing her back, her hips, her bottom. He pulled her knee over his hip. With her leg open, Cherry smelled like last night’s sex. She knew it wouldn’t bother him. She knew that almost nothing like this did.
He reached up between her thighs to touch. “Are you still wet, or are you wet again?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Tom pushed his fingers deeper into her. She closed her eyes. He was pushing. Exploring. It felt good.Good.
“Wait,” she said. “Let me go to the bathroom first.”
“Yeah.” He was already breathing heavy. “Okay.”
Cherry pulled away and sat on the edge of the bed. Tom’s hands followed her. She stood up, unsteady at first, and his hands kept following her. She looked over her shoulder. Tom had sat up, too. She took a step away from him.
“Wait, wait, wait,” he said. “Turn around.”
Cherry did.
Her hair was hanging over both her shoulders, skirting the tops of her breasts. She was naked, mostly—she was still wearing one pink fishnet knee-high.
Tom was motioning for her to come closer.
She took a step toward him.
“Sorry.” His voice had dropped. “Come back.”
“Tom.”
“Come back.” He had her hands. She let him pull her closer and push her down, so he could climb on top of her. “You look totally debauched, Cherry.”
