Page 41 of Jinxes and Drumsticks

She nibbles on her lower lip. I reach up to tuck a bit of her hair behind her ear, admiring her newly despite lying next to her for the last hour.

“I really want to kiss you again,” she finally says.

“Feeling inspired?” I ask, nodding at the TV and chuckling.

“Would you want to kiss me like that?” she asks.

“Sweetheart, I want to kiss you in whatever way you’ll let me.”

She smiles as she draws a line down the center of my chest. I take a tight breath. It’s amazing how such a benign touch can set my desire on fire. I can already feel my cock getting hard.

“I want you to kiss me the way that you want to kiss me,” she says, her voice low enough that it fries just a little bit, making my skin prickle with goosebumps.

“Well, that’s an easy problem to solve,” I say.

I wrap my arm tight around her and pull her on top of me. I card my fingers through the hair behind her ear, wrapping it around my fingers. With my other hand, I tilt her chin just so.

When our lips finally meet, it feels like home.

ㅤ

Ispend ten blissful days splitting my time between band rehearsals, recording, and making out with Lillith like I’m a teenaged boy again. It’s funny, that sort of initial, fiery attraction has already settled into something more comfortable with a mundane domesticity.

A lot of guys get freaked out by this happening so quickly. But for me, with the way work and tours have forced me into mostly transient, temporary romances, it’s a welcome change. I actually like coming “home” to her at the end of a long day. I like standing next to her in the kitchen while she teaches me how to deglaze a pan or poach an egg or blanch a tomato to remove its skin.

I like that I’ve inherited a pair of ill-fitting silk pajama pants I slip into when she gets tired of the feeling of rough denim on her thighs. And I like melting into a cuddle puddle with her when I come back to find her sleeping already.

I don’t even mind the knowledge that her possession of man-sized silk pajama pants means that a man-sized person wore them in her home before. I definitely am not bothered by the idea of another man touching her. Shut up.

Anyway.

This is everything I’ve ever wanted.

The guys always roll their eyes when it comes to how I pursue women, but there is something markedly different about how Lillith settles into the marrow of my bones. There is an ease to time spent with her that I can’t seem to find anywhere else—an ease I’ve never experienced with a partner before.

And, well, I guess I shouldn’t think about her as a partner exactly. We haven’t really discussed anything but what we want to do in a day. We haven’t talked about pasts or futures or anything like that, but it’s hard for me not to think about her that way. In such a short time, I can’t imagine leaving this little beach town and never talking to her again.

I don’t even care that we haven’t had sex yet, or that it seems like it’s taking eight million years to get her in with her GP to get those antibiotics. Granted, I am mildly concerned, if only because I don’t want anything to happen to her kidneys or, worst case, make her epilepsy worse. I know UTI’s can fuck with shit like that. I’m also not a dick, so even if she never wanted to have sex with me ever, I would live with it.

But... I mean, I am a guy and she did kind of put the idea in my head. It’s given me plenty to think about on the rare nights I spend in my own bed at Roxie’s studio, and let’s just say I’ve been putting those developed drummer forearms to good use.

I just... Man. I knew Lillith was gorgeous and smart and capable, but I had no idea just how incredible she could be.

My only complaint?

It seems like she’s downright allergic to me taking her out again.

“Is this like a... seizure superstition thing?” I ask her as she works on preparing what she promises will be the best venison birria I’ve ever put in my mouth.

“No, Damien, it’s not a seizure superstition thing,” she tells me.

“Because, if it is—”

“It’s not—”

“—I’d like to point out that you already had a pretty major seizure in front of me and I handled it swimmingly. Like, I don’t want to toot my own horn here, but I definitely prevented any major complications from happening and I didn’t even stick a wallet or a spoon in your mouth.”

“You are an exceptionally well-trained former paramedic,” she says indulgently as she places the seared cut of deer meat in her pressure cooker.