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“Elijah, I know I just tossed a lot at you. I can tell you’re working something out in your head. You don’t have to work it out tonight. In fact, I don’t want you to. I’ve made the bed for us. I’ve made a little nest. I want you to lie on my chest and let me hold you for once. I’ve opened the door hoping during the night, any doubts you still have will escape and you’ll get clear.”
I bring her hand to my lips, kissing the back. She leads me over to the bed, pulls back all the blankets and climbs in. She settles herself in the middle leaving her arms for me. Without hesitation, I climb in to rest my head on her chest. My hand rides the outside of her thigh and crosses to her belly.
I can feel my heart rate slow as Dylan pulls the blankets back around us. My legs slowly vine with hers. She carefully reaches in and removes my glasses. Even with my eyes now closed, I can feel her watching me.
Her finger slowly traces down the side of my face, around my chin, and back up again. It’s one long leisurely pattern. Her body tension releases into the pillows as her hand rests over mine. The last thing I remember is her fingers in my hair along with the rise and fall of her chest. She’s given me the one thing I needed more than anything. Peace.
We both wake in the morning still in the same position we fell asleep in last night. If she wanted to move, she didn’t. Her hand is still on mine and my ear is still resting near her heart. Dylanoffers to make breakfast but that’s not what I want. I have this strong sense of needing to do everything together today.
It starts with breakfast. We keep it simple. The food is simple. The conversation is simple. One of the best things about us is not having to read between the lines. I haven’t yet figured out whose doing that is, but I’m sure as hell not questioning it.
Instead of taking the bike for another spin, I grab the keys for Pops’s classic sixty-four and a half Mustang. It’s a fucking work of art in all its powder blue glory. With the windows down along the water, it’s a bit chilly but the sun makes it a perfect drive.
We find some juicy burgers for lunch and take one last walk through the LongHouse Reserve for the year. Somewhere in the middle of all this, it occurs to me I feel like we’re on a real date. Something other than dinner hidden in my home or hers. Something other than our work in and out of the office. Something other than the chemistry we clearly share.
It feels good.
“I have an idea,” I tell her, as we wander through the gardens.
“Uh oh,” she giggles.
“Stop!” I laugh. “This feels like a vacation today. I’d like to roll with that.”
“Okay. Sounds easy enough.”
“Except for what I want to do, we’d need to go shopping.”
“The problem with that is what exactly?” She twirls under my arm.
“I was hoping you’d say that. So you’ll let me spoil you?”
“You don’t have to do that, Goose. I can handle myself.”
“Never argue with your wingman. Let me. What do you say?”
“I say poor credit card,” she giggles before running away to get me to chase her.
Dylan could look good, and does, in anything. From her dance gear to jeans to a casual dress and sneakers to a suit, which is my favorite, to my clothes to nothing at all, she is unbelievablybeautiful. However, the sight of her walking down the stairs to me tonight would stop any Formula One race in its tracks.
Each step coming toward me gives me the opportunity to see something new. First are the flesh-colored pumps she chose. Good God. I want to see those up close later. The white background of the dress sets off the bit of bronze her skin still has from summer. The indigo pulls out the rich color of her eyes. The powder blue is an exact match to the car and the pink pulls me to her lips, which glisten over her smile.
Her hair is perfectly cascading around her shoulders. The hem lies just long enough for the imagination to work overtime, but short enough to see her legs in all their athletic glory. As she reaches the bottom next to me, she extends her hand out and lays it on my chest. “I like this sweater on you.”
“Thanks for picking it out. I have an extra for you. The owner said they would look perfect on your ears. I’d say I tend to agree.” The dangling opalescent teardrop earrings will accent her ears, which I love to taste, but point me to her neck, which I love even more.
“I always wanted to be Cinderella. Thanks for making it happen.”
“You’re better than any princess I can think of.” I offer her my arm. “Shall we go to dinner?”
“Yes, Prince Goose.” She leans into my ear. “Do yourself a favor and walk behind me on the way into the restaurant. You won’t be sorry.”
Fuck.
The leather jacket she borrowed from Hayley is the perfect opposite yet perfect complement to the dress she has on. It’s also her clear way to tease me. I can’t look at her until we are in public. The heightened anticipation is setting me on fire.
As we pull into the valet station, her door is quickly opened. I hand off the keys and grab my ticket. By the time I reach herside, she’s removing her jacket in the sixty-degree weather, just to give me the show I was promised. The jacket hits me in the chest as she walks as if she’s on a red-carpet runway.
She sweeps her hair over her shoulder to give me the full effect. The neckline has two capped buttons, which give way to two thin straps that fall effortlessly over her shoulder blades. The back of the dress is completely open.
