He blew out a breath, and didn’t say a thing.
“I’ve been doing it for a while,” I went on. No one knew this secret, save for Izzie of course. She was the one who urged me to do it in the first place. “It feels so nice. Sometimes, I wonder what it would feel like if it was your hands touching me.”
That’s when he shot up from the sofa, like a jack-in-the-box. I bounced up too, and grabbed his arms. “Stop it,” I pleaded. “Stop walking away from me. You want this as much as I do, and I’m of age now. There’s nothing fucking wrong here.”
He closed his eyes for a long second, and I was sure he was about to dismiss me, but when he opened them again, he reached out and grabbed the back of my head. I was stunned, motionless. He brought me to him, and pressed his hot mouth against mine. My lower belly tightened as desire pooled inside me, and I fully surrendered. Our tongues and hands danced. We pawed each other like wild animals. As his mouth swept across mine, the stubble of his jaw scratched my skin. His hands were rough but his touch was soft.
I wanted more. I raised a leg and wrapped it around him, wanting no space separating us. He grabbed my ass and lifted me up tighter against him. I felt his desire for me, and it both scared me and thrilled me.
He threw me on the sofa and stretched himself on top of me. He slid his hot mouth along my collarbone. “Is this okay, Abigail?” he asked, breathless. The sound of his labored breathing aroused me more than I could have imagined. “You can ask me to stop.”
“No…” I moaned. “You feel so good. I want this.”
He traveled down my chest, roughly pulled at the collar of my t-shirt and freed my breast from my bra cup. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered before taking my breast in his mouth. My core tightened and my pulse pounded between my legs. The sensation was completely foreign but amazing. He traveled back to my mouth, and I was eager to taste him again.
I reached for his arousal and he groaned. I smiled at the thought of bringing him pleasure. I fiddled nervously with the fly of his jeans, and when I finally reached into his briefs, I was curious. I’d never touched one before. He moaned as I explored him, as I pleasured him. He was so hard, but also soft to the touch.
He grunted as he pulled away. He rose as fast as one of those boxing clowns. He quickly did himself up. “Uh… this has gone too far, kid.”
I was livid… and heartbroken.Kid?
“I need a really long shower, and you need to go back home, kid.”
I sat up, and pulled myself together again. “Stop calling me kid,” I snapped. “You’ve seen me. You’ve touched me. You know I’m not a kid.”
“Do you even have a condom on you?” he chided.
“Nope. Don’t you have any?”
“That’s not the point, Abigail. You need to be prepared. You don’t want to end up knocked up at seventeen, do you?”
I thought of Jocelyn Bertrand who was in fact, seventeen, and knocked up. She’d had to leave school the week before, and no one knew who the father was. “No,” I replied meekly.
He sat next to me, as far as he could. “Besides, I don’t want to use a condom with you.”
I stared at him, wide-eyed.
“I don’t want to take chances,” he went on. “Condoms are not one-hundred percent, you know.”
I nodded. “I know. I took health class.”
“Well, then you know what we need to do,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’m willing to get checked out,” he said. “Make sure I’m clean as a whistle… but, I need you to go see the doctor too. I want you on the pill.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It was all so business-like. But he was just looking out for me.
He rose and smiled down at me. “Until then, we should really stay away from each other.”
I grinned. “I’ll go tomorrow,” I joked.
“Yeah… you better be quick,” he bit at his lower lip, and I wanted to kiss him so badly. Instead, I got to my feet and headed to the front door.
I could be patient.
I knew he would definitely be worth it.
* * *
Adele is wearingmy favorite apron, the one covered with big red hearts. We’re making homemade popsicles. She’s stirring a can of concentrate orange juice into a jug of water. Izzie and I are eagerly waiting for her to be done because we both have popsicle trays to fill. Little Abe is playing Elton John’sI’m Still Standingon the old upright piano in the corner. He’s singing at the top of his lungs. He’s quite good.
Izzie goes first, making a real mess of things, giggling her rear off. Adele raises her eyes skyward, ever the patient mom. When my turn comes, I’m more methodical, priding myself in my accuracy. I don’t spill a single drop. Adele claps. Izzie shrugs. And little Abe sings.
I wake with a start. I smile at the recollection. I’m liking these nostalgic dreams, memories of my youth, much better than the bike ride nightmares I’ve had for years. I don’t know why I’ve suddenly started having the pleasant dreams instead. Perhaps it’s because I’m no longer stressed about my divorce, about Michael and losing my job, about a job search.
Finally, I’m content. I’m happy with Noah and my new job. Everything is going well.
It almost seems too good to be true.
