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Just her presence causes something to spark in me. I know we were intimate in a way in the past and I feel a little guilt about jacking off last night to the image of Naomi in my fantasy, but I wasn’t expecting it to affect me so much.
She’s on the other side of the kitchen island.
“How you feelin’?” I ask.
“Physically or mentally?”
“Both.” I chuckle.
“Physically? Trash. Definitely hung over from last night. Mentally? I don’t know . . .” She seems to really consider it. “A little confused, I guess.”
“You wanna talk about it?”
The hesitation I see in her expression makes me feel helpless.
“Sit down. Drink your water. We can talk later.” She follows instructions and sits at the island bar. I pass her the juice.
I go about cracking eggs into bowls for pancakes and put bacon in the oven. We sit in silence as I work to put together breakfast. I catch her glancing up at me and following my movements often, and a few times I catch her bending her neck from side to side and rubbing at her temples.
“Where does it hurt?” I say, stopping what I’m doing and rounding the island.
“My head is pounding. And my neck is killing me.” She groans.
I step behind her where she sits at the island.
“Here?” I say, digging my thumbs into the base of her neck.
“Higher.”
Applying pressure to the tight muscle, I run my thumbs up until I hit where I can feel it’s tightest. I press in and she lets out a moan that has my cock thickening.
Her head drops forward, and I thoroughly work the muscle in silence.
“I’m going to presume that physically you’re hurting because of the hangover,” I muse. “How do you feel about what we’re doing, though?”
“Just . . .” She hesitates, and I hate it. “It’s nothing. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m not going to let you get away with that. Not this time,” I say, turning her around on the stool to face me.
“I just. It feels so good to be with Bex like we are. Knowing it’s not just a fling makes me feel secure. It’s . . . She’s . . .”
“I know.”
“Yeah, she is. But . . .”
“But . . . ?”
She sighs wistfully. “I wish I understood you more. I want to know you and I don’t know how.”
I’m taken aback by her honesty and reach up to cup her face.
“I don’t know if you’ll let me,” she whispers.
“I,” I stutter.
“It’s okay. This isn’t on you. I’m just trying to be honest.”
My fingers snake up to fist her long strands of hair at the base of her neck and tug lightly to lift her chin up toward me. Naomi lets out a shuttered breath and her eyes flutter close. I press in close to her body that’s now fully facing me. My lips go to rest next to her ear.
