Page 14 of Restored Dreams

“Beautiful,” I choke out because I can’t find my voice. She looks ethereal with water droplets on her skin and the sunshine enhancing her tan. She takes my breath away, and when she slicks back her short, waterlogged hair with both hands, I’m a goner. My obituary would state: “Man drowns from wet dream vision.”

I stand as well, tugging at the hem of my shorts which can’t hide the wood that won’t subside. Lily breaks the meter stick of my threshold. I’ve decided I’ll be perpetually hard around her.

It’s been a great day, and once we hand in her board and return to the house, I ask her to dinner.

And she refuses me again.

What the fuck?

“I think I’ll take a warm shower. My muscles are starting to feel the ache of surfing,” she offers by way of excuse.

Let me relieve those muscles, I beg, but the sting of her rejection leads to another emotion. Irritation. A great day and no dinner. An orgasm and no lip action. I’m beginning to waver in my patience.

+ + +

I shouldn’t have gone out alone. I should have demanded she go with me, or better yet, I should have stayed in. Only, when she thanked me for the surfing lesson and excused herself for the shower, I was pissed. I showered quickly myself and then snuck out. My body hums. My limbs limber with pent-up energy, and my heart races with desire, but I didn’t understand what happened.

I replay the day as I pull into the lot of a famous seafood bar and stare at the restaurant sign. I don’t want to be here alone. I don’t want to eat out anymore. I want company, and I want Lily. I reverse my SUV but chicken out on returning immediately to the house. I opt for a long drive instead.

One of my favorite parts of restoring cars includes the test drive. The purr of a project finalized is a sweet melody. I love to wind up the hills around LA and wander down to the coast, listening to the hum of a well-tuned engine in an older ride brought back to life. This is what Lily is doing to me. She’s revving me up, only she’s not letting me drive.

I curve down Highway 5, taking in the dimming light of another day. People seem to stop along the southern coastline and breathe a moment, as if inhaling some unknown fragrance from the dipping sun. I realize I’ve lost sight of how much I enjoy California living somewhere along the way. Maybe I don’t always recognize the easy pace because LA is so fast, but down here, life moves a little slower. As I pull into a parking lot along the public beach, I think of exiting my SUV, but a peek at the lowering light, closing out another day hits me in the chest—I’m missing out on another evening with her. We only have the week, and I can’t keep running away. And I’m not letting her run away either.

A slower pace. Lily and I aren’t in a race, even if I want to speed things up. But we’ve already missed out on twenty-two years. It’s been my fault, and I admit as much, but I’m not making any more excuses. I want Lily back.

I peel out of the lot and head to the house. Opening the door, another heavenly fragrance assaults my olfactory senses. This smell is rich and sweet, causing me to salivate.

“What is that?” Whatever it is, I want to frost her in it and then devour every inch afterward. Her back remains to me, her hips wiggling as she pours something in a rhythm. Plop. Plop. Plop. Then squeaky lyrics echo in the kitchen, and I realize she has earbuds in. I step up behind her, finding a cupcake pan filled with gooey batter waiting to be baked. Another tray bakes in the oven, causing the sweet aroma in the room. Vanilla, cinnamon, and something I can’t distinguish. My mouth waters all the same.

Lily turns with a sharp twist, her eyes widening at my close presence. I’m swiped across the chest with a spatula, coating me in batter. The offending instrument remains in her hand as she pulls back, and her eyes widen even more.

“Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry.” She tugs at the wire leading to the buds in her ears. “I didn’t hear you come in.” A playful expression dances in her blue eyes, doing nothing to lower the beat of my heart. Her gaze falls to my chest, which lifts and lowers as if I’m working up to run a mile. She bites her lip, holding back laughter as she waves her free hand at me. “I didn’t mean to get your shirt.”

The mixture soaks through my linen button-down, and I reach for the buttons, unlooping one at a time.

“I guess I should take it off.” The blue of her eyes dials up to a deeper shade. I’m enjoying the heat on her face as I slowly unwrap myself, exposing my chest to her. Her lids lower as she follows the trail of my unveiling, and her breath hitches when I tug the halves open, forcing the material loose from my shorts. I stand a moment, allowing her to drink in my skin on display for only her, dripping with cupcake batter.

“Although I think all is only fair…” My voice fades as I tap her wrist, forcing the spatula to fall forward and hit her in the chest just above the edge of the tank top near her breasts. Still holding her wrist, I drag the kitchen utensil downward, painting her exposed skin and the front of her shirt with the sticky batter. Her breasts rise and fall, matching the pace of mine. Still holding the wrist of the hand with the spatula, I drag her wrist, forcing her to paint over one breast. The wet mixture catches lightly on her firm nipple. She’s definitely turned on.

“Why are you baking?” My voice remains deep and low as I ask.

“I bake when I’m wound up.”

My brow twitches upward. “What’s got you wound up, Lily pad?”

“You.” The whispered response is all I need. She will not escape me again. My mouth crashes against hers. Fingers find her cheeks but quickly delve into her hair as her mouth opens to match mine. I breathe her in like I haven’t breathed in years, gulping at the air only she can provide. The spatula falls to the floor with a clatter before her hands slip to my waist, sliding inside my shirt and wrapping around my lower back. I lean forward, pressing her into the counter behind her as I grind against her, and all the while, my mouth does not leave hers. I won’t be close enough until I enter her, but for now, I want her lips. Tender yet fierce. Demanding yet taken. I savor each pass of our mouths, the curl of tongues, the linger of lips. My hips roll forward, but still, my mouth takes more. She’s the meal I’ve hungered for, and a starving man is…well, starving.

Slowly, I’m lowering us, tugging her down by the force of my fingers still wrapped in her hair. Her body folds against mine as we near the hard wood, and I rotate us so I’m over her. Our position is reminiscent of last night on the beach, only our mouths are joined tonight, and I want more.

I drag my mouth down her jaw, lick at her neck, and release her hair to reach for a breast. My palm settles over one firm globe and massages the weight. I groan, returning to her hungry mouth. She seems to suddenly be famished for me in return, and I relish her eagerness. My fingers continue to knead her breast until I find the hard nub of her nipple. I pinch, and she squeaks.

“I love all your sounds,” I mutter, breaking the kiss for only a second. Her thighs have opened, and I lay my length at her core. Clothes are not going to be the barrier anymore. I need her skin. Fingers deftly find the hem of her shirt and press upward, finding Lily braless.

“Fuck, Lily,” I moan, massaging her ripe breast in earnest. She’s built for her frame. Firm. Stacked. Perfect. My palm covers all of her, and I squeeze, eliciting a deep purr that rumbles down to my dick. My fingers release, pleased with the sound but needing more contact. I tickle down her tight stomach, reaching the waist of her jean shorts.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

My head pops up at the alarm of the oven.