Shiner, on the other hand, is brute force personified, despite his trademark lazy grin.
“Where’s your brother?”
“He’s inside, helping Rissy disassemble DJ’s crib.”
“Rissy?” I hope my tone comes across as distaste for the nickname.
“Aw, don’t be jealous, boss man. All she does is ask about you. Hawk this, Hawk that, what is Hawk like as a boss?” she mocks in a sing-song voice, but her affection for Marissa is clear in her face.
“Can you let her know I’m here? Thanks,” I manage to croak out as I nervously run my palm over my head.
I feel my heart beating in my throat. My mouth is dry. Excitement and fear swirl around my insides.
Then I hear the door open, and I’m a piece of steel being pulled to a large magnet. My whole body knows it’s her. I turn around, and she’s standing there in faded jeans and a black No Doubt shirt.
Marissa.
Even her name is sensual, the two hissing S’s at the end reminiscent of the sound a lover makes when you gently bite her neck.
Kiss.
Miss.
Bliss.
She looks nervous. And tired. Exhausted, really. Her hair doesn't go past her shoulders now.
The time spent inside made her even paler, and her face and body appear fuller than they did the last time I saw her. I itch to squeeze all the soft parts of her, to see them jiggle and bounce in all sorts of dirty scenarios.
Marissa’s clutching the doorknob as if her life depends on it.
I don’t move a muscle. I want her to be the one to come to me, to take the first step, so I wait, like I’ve been doing for the last three months. Even if it kills me.
Come on, baby, you can do it, I will her inside my head. Just a few steps and then I’ll take it from there. You'll never have to worry about anything ever again.
I smile at her encouragingly, and then, something inside her clicks.
Before I know it, Marissa’s running towards me, and I catch her. All of her. The fears, the baggage, the raw need that burns so brightly inside her.
I’m hugging her tightly, and we sway from side to side. She is soft and warm, smelling of shampoo and fabric softener.
One of my hands is holding her waist, while the other cups her head, which is nestled right under my chin. It’s a perfect fit.
A few minutes into the hug, her trembling stops, and her breathing starts to match mine.
“It’s weird,” she mumbles into my chest, and I move half an inch so she can be heard more clearly.
“What is?”
“It’s like you’re my best friend who’s also a stranger.”
I chuckle and press her back into my body. Both of her arms are under my cut, wrapped around my waist, with her hands most likely resting on my concealed weapon, but she doesn’t move them. We’re practically glued to each other, and neither of us seems to mind.
“I know what you mean,” I tell her. “I’ve discussed very personal, even traumatic, things with you, and yet today is the first time I’ve seen you with your hands unbound.”
She laughs, and I want to kiss her mouth.
“I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do it. But then I looked at you, and I felt safe. I knew it would be alright to come out.”
