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I walk to the front of the cushion pit and make my way carefully over the softness and toward the back; near Cade, but not right next to him.
“I don’t bite,” he says, as I lower myself carefully, in this sort of, right-lean fashion. I’m sure it’s a sight.
“It takes me a minute to get comfortable sometimes,” I kind of lie.
I mean, that’s mostly true, but I also am still high on the vivid pictures of what I think his dick looks like and how it might feel inside me, so I’m really just better off sitting over here with a good two feet between us.
I know I have it bad when my thoughts take a sarcastic turn.
I’m partially expecting him to say something like, “Suit yourself,” because the devil on my shoulder is still routing on Cade being a bad guy, but of course he doesn’t.
Shoot, the guy gives me my space and, ten minutes later when I haven’t moved from my spot, he moves closer.
His shoulder is nearly brushing mine, as he leans into the pillows stacked along the back of the pit. “This okay?” he whispers, hardly legible over the sounds of the movie.
I can smell him. He still smells like his earlier shower, but also faintly of the grill.
I can feel the heat coming from his body.
I ache to lean over just…a little…bit.
I nod. “Yeah,” I try to say but am met with resistance. I clear my throat and try again. “Yes, it’s fine.”
I keep my gaze fixed to the large screen, but I know without a doubt he’s looking at me, and not at the movie.
I struggle with keeping my gaze forward but end up giving in and looking to my left where, why yes, he is looking at me.
Licking my lips nervously, I swallow hard.
But he just smiles at me.
Winks.
Then turns his attention to the screen.
