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Once I’m done, I clean up the discarded Q-tips and tissues and take them all to the kitchen. I toss everything in the garbage and wash my hands, then root around in Charlene’s cupboards for a snack. She has an odd balance between holistic stuff and junk food. I hit the jackpot when I find a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos stuffed in the back of the cupboard. I check the fridge for beer, but Charlene isn’t big on it, so I’m unsurprised to come up empty handed. She has ginger ale and lots of milk. She also has a container of onion dip, which will go perfectly with the Doritos. I snatch the Godiva bag from the counter and bring it with me to the living room.
Charlene’s expression goes from hopeful to crestfallen. “What’re you doing?”
“I thought you might want a snack.”
“Doritos and onion dip? Why did you even come here if you’re going to eat that?” Charlene seems annoyed, angry even.
“Would you like me to find something else?”
She throws her hands up in the air. “Yes! You ruin making out when you have Dorito breath.”
“I didn’t come here to make out. I came here to spend time with you.”
Her brows pull down. “Why can’t we do both? Why does it have to be one or the other? Or do you not . . . want me like this? Do you need me to change?” She motions to her attire, her confusion endearing, and painfully understandable.
I drop the snacks on the coffee table and sit down beside her. “I always want you, Charlene.”
“So why the Doritos? I don’t get it. You come here with gifts, paint my toenails, tease me with that kiss, and then pull out gross-breath snacks like it all makes some kind of sense. What the hell?”
She’s definitely angry, which seems to defeat the entire purpose of me showing her I want more than sex. “You know that I care about you, don’t you?”
She purses her lips, eyes roaming over my face as if she’ll find some kind of explanation there. “Yes. I know that.”
“How?”
“What?”
“How do you know?” I ask, because I want to understand what I do to make her see that, since I honestly don’t know.
“You take care of my needs before your own. You understand when I take things farther then I mean to, and you always know where my limit is. You’ll let me try new things even if it’s not always something you’re keen on. And you bring me flowers and chocolate because you think that’s what I need based on someone else’s idea of what constitutes normal. That’s how I know.”
It doesn’t escape me that most of these references apply to our sex life, except for the last part, which only serves to reinforce how change is necessary, but it may need to be a bit more gradual. I have until the end of June, which should give me lots of time to make Charlene see that we’re supposed to be more.
That way, if I’m traded at the end of the season, asking her to come with me won’t be something she’ll balk at. Broaching that subject now doesn’t make sense, not when flowers and chocolate cause this kind of reaction.
“Darren? Did I say something wrong?”
I realize I’ve been staring at her, saying nothing in response. I smile in what I hope is reassurance. “No, firefly, you didn’t say anything wrong.”
She skims my knuckles and scoots a little closer. “This morning you threatened to kiss me for hours the next time we were together.”
“I did say that, didn’t I?” I drag a single finger along the column of her throat. “Would you like me to make good on that now?”
“Mmm. I would like that very much.”
I shift until I’m in the center of the couch and move Charlene to straddle me. I press the softest kiss to her lips, then trail my fingers along her throat. I don’t go back to her mouth like she wants me to. Instead I start at her fingertips, kissing each one, working my way over her knuckles, following the vein on the inside of her wrist all the way to her elbow. I keep going, up the inside of her arm, over her shoulder, across her collarbone, along the side of her neck and the edge of her jaw to her chin.
The entire time Charlene grinds over me, rubbing herself on my erection through the barrier of clothing. If we were naked, I’d be inside her already. For some reason, restraint is difficult to find and hold on to tonight. Maybe because everything is shifting for me, and I want it to be the same for Charlene.
I’m about to continue the kiss torture, starting with the neglected fingertips of the other hand, but Charlene grabs my chin to keep me from moving away. She doesn’t try to kiss me. Instead her eyes meet mine, uncertainty flickering there. “Stay here for a minute, please.”
