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"Oh, fuck, you're the funniest, most genuine chick I've met. Ever. I like you so fucking much."
"So youarean ornithologist." I pull my head away and meet his confused eyes. "If you like chicks."
"You’re s sharp, I'm going to cut myself on you one day." He nips my shoulder and I stroke his arm again.
"Then tell me what this is."
"A phoenix."
"Oh. It’s a good picture."
"You thought the tattoo was an eagle though, so the picture can’t be that good." What is with the barely contained amusement on his face?
"Big tattoos aren't that nice."
He leans forward and whispers, "So you don't want to inspect the rest of my tattoos?"
"No thanks."
With a chuckle, he pats the sheets. "Come back to bed, summer Sky who hates tattoos."
"Take your jeans off," I say boldly.
Dylan responds with a sharp sound of air sucked through his teeth. "You’re telling me what to do?"
"Might be."
"Hmm." Dylan lies back, and stretches his arms over his head then twists his head to mine. "Do you want to leave this room today?"
Dylan’s words are a challenge. I have one too. "Yes, because you're taking me on a date."
The laugh bubbling from his chest prompts a smile of my own and he rubs a large palm across his face. "I'd better shower then...In a minute." Before I have a chance to react, Dylan lunges at me, then pulls me backwards onto him, burying his face into my hair. "You're naked...," he whispers.
"I’m wearing your T-shirt."
"I can fix that problem."
Following a small struggle—and not much resistance on my part—Dylan pulls his T-shirt over my head. Then before I have a chance to protest, his mouth is back on my breasts and hand sliding down my body.
* * *
Something changed.We’ve moved from uneasy edging around the unspoken lust we share for each other to a comfort in each other’s skin. But Dylan still hasn't taken his jeans off and I'm embarrassing myself with the obsessive need to see him without.Touch and feel... I blink. No.
I boldly suggested he might follow me into the shower, but following a lot of grumbling at himself, Dylan declined. As I washed myself, and brushed against the extra sensitivity lingering from our night and morning together, I fought the desire to drag him in with me.
As I dress, I hear him in the shower and if I had more brazen hussy and less cautious girl inside, I might have snuck in.
Instead, I tramp downstairs and pour cornflakes.
The Dylan who appears downstairs, freshly shaven and smelling of spices from his shower, is a man I could spend all day in bed with. This is a relaxed, happy and open guy’ the tiredness in his features has ebbed, and this morning the worry has flowed away completely.
He crosses the room and slides long fingers beneath my chin, kissing me softly. "Mmm. Cornflakes. Good idea."
I push the packet towards him, spooning another mouthful because I'm lost at what to say.
Dylan takes the box in his ringed fingers, and the everyday sound of cereal hitting the bowl enters the not-so-everyday world we've pulled ourselves further into.
"So, do you want me take you out somewhere?" he asks.
