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Bear mutters for only me to hear, “Not yet anyway.” His rough voice does things to me. Specifically, my nipples. They could chip away at ice all on their own when he mutters things about me under his breath. God, it’s been too long. Obviously my body does not care that my brain is tossing up warning flares left and right.
“Well,” Violet says, waving off the awkwardness in the air. “You two are just too adorable not to be hitting that. Girl, you are gonna hit that, right?”
I cover my mouth and feel heat crawling up my chest and neck. “I, uh…”
Violet checks over her teeth for lipstick and does not seem at all fazed by my reaction. I glance at Bear and he doesn’t either.
I search for words, but Bear fills in the space for me as he wheels the tow truck back on the road into town. “Where you headed, Violet?”
Violet claps her compact closed and drops it into a sequined bag that I might be drooling over as much as I’m drooling over the tow truck driver. “Well, I just finished one show at the Soda Jerk,” she says, referring to the city’s most popular drag bar that used to be a candy store and apothecary back in the day, which she now owns. “And I’m supposed to be caroling at the nursing home with the rest of my sisters tonight.”
My mouth falls open. “That’s amazing! I’ll be brutally honest, I’m impressed that those people of that generation would…you know…be welcoming to…”
Violet cocks her head. “To a bunch of boys in drag singing about Christmas? Honey, you’d be surprised how people’s opinions change when they don’t get many visitors.”
I turn to look at Bear. His eyes are fiercely glued to the road. His Adam’s apple just rolled like he’s swallowing something back and he’s chewing on his lip. I feel it too and I have to bite the inside of my cheek. I can’t have Violet see me cry.
Violet announces that she’s going to make some calls to her fellow carolers. I tune out the sound of her voice with the guilty feelings in my head.
This is all wrong. How can I be thinking about sex on a night like tonight? When there are homeless people, people in hospitals and nursing homes, who have real needs tonight?
“My house is not far from the nursing home. If you want to drop me off,” I say, meekly, staring into my hands that rest on my lap.
Bear looks over at me, and the hunger in his blazing warm eyes feel like he’s already got me on my back in his bed.
“Nope,” he says.
“Oh,” I breathe.
I should not have any doubt what his intentions are at this point.
But my mouth. My stupid mouth. It cannot stop talking. “Well, where do you want to take—“
I generally do not enjoy being interrupted.
Bear Bailey has the nicest way of interrupting.
He closes in fast. His lips are a hair’s breadth away from mine. He’s so close I can feel his breath on me. I can feel the electricity sparking from his skin to mine. His nose has got to be smelling my skin at this proximity.
I can smell him too. Chapstick, some kind of masculine, woodsy lotion. Strong, black coffee.
I want to keep talking because I’m nervous, but if I move my lips, they’ll be touching his. And I don’t want to be the one to initiate any kissing. No reason other than on principle.
And then he speaks. “I ain’t taking you home tonight, in case you haven’t figured it out yet.”
My breath is shaky. “I had a feeling.”
Somehow our lips are touching, but we’re not kissing yet. His eyes are on mine, and then on my cheeks, my hair, my neck, my chin. Like he can’t decide where to kiss me first.
“I like you,” he says against my forehead. His breath ripples against the baby fine hairs along my hairline.
“I know,” I say.
“Us
ually, I go slow and do something like this first,” he says, picking up my hand that’s resting on my leg. Facing me, he laces the fingers of his left hand through my fingers. He pulls my hand up and kisses every one of my knuckles. My lips part at the sensation. His lips are so soft, and so are his whiskers against my skin.
When he reaches my fifth knuckle, I’m pretty sure he's gonna kiss me.
