I couldn’t move.After five orgasms, my body was somnolent from the tips of my toes to the ends of my hair.
But I couldn’t stop looking at him.
And this couldn’t happen.
The whole point of me being in this loft cabin in the middle of nowhere in Fret County, Washington State and not back home in Florida was to stay very, very far away from this kind of entanglement.
Of course, a girl had needs.
However, this was not the guy you used to scratch your itch.
This was the kind of guy that the first concepts from the beginning of time were the hotbed of what hopes and dreams were made of.
Dang it, I’d only been here seven months, and here I was, messing up my life again.
My hand actually ached from forcing myself not to reach out and rest it on his chest, feel that springy hair, the warmth of his skin, his heart beating.
My body yearned to inch forward and press itself to his side, wrap him in my arms, so he might turn and wrap me in his, tangling us up in the moonlight.
I was so screwed.
But I didn’t stop watching him, perhaps it was only long minutes, it felt like hours, before my eyes drifted shut, and I lost him.
In more ways than one.
I opened my eyes,delightfully tender, deliciously relaxed, totally refreshed, and I stretched my back.
The sun was shining through the window at the head of my bed.
And the pillow beside mine was empty.
No.
Strike that.
It wasn’t.
There was a wide, yellow Post-it note resting on the pillow.
I held the covers to my chest and reached out to the note, stupid, stupid,stupidlyhoping it was his number and an urge to call him.Or an invitation to dinner.Or to meet him at The Link that night for a drink.
Mostly, hoping it was signed because he never told me his name.
It was not.
There was one word on that note, scrawled in black ink.
And that word was…
Thanks.
TWO
Not Again
Mabel
To say I was not in a good mood that morning as I got ready to head out would be an understatement.
