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What if…it was me…
What ifI’mthe one who made our lives predictable and sheltered and boring?
I’ve always kept our routine, playing it safe, never taking risks for fear I’d end up like my mother, making one mistake and dashing all of my dreams. But the truth is, I’ve never even dared to dream for myself or my future.
My mother has an adventurous streak and look at how she’s lived her life. Going after what she wants, even at the cost of others. My grandmother now tells me she went against the grain in her younger days.
What about me? Doing crosswords and baking for fun. Did the gene for excitement and adventure pass me over?
I’m… the scaredy cat.
And I’ve encapsulated my Nonna with me, wrapping her up in our safe, boring, predictable world. Didn’t I just this morning try to turn down a fantastic job and crawl back to the Accardis out of fear? I need to make a change. I need to embrace this blessing, this second chance at life, the excitement, the new experiences.
Maybe even embrace…him.
He still has yet to speak. He just stares at me, waiting for me to speak, but there are no words for him in my hazy, heat-filled mind.
Again, he says, “Tonight, you’re all mine.” The tenor of his tone leaves no mistake; he’s not looking for a roommate. He uncrosses his arms, offering me a hand.
Do I slip my hand in his? Change the entire course of my predictable life with one innocent gesture? If I go with him, I know…
I’ll never be the same Kylie.
I take his hand.
He offers me a shower at his place. Needing a moment to breathe, I take him up on it. As the hot water glides over my body, I wonder what it will be like, to be with him… what it will feel like to have him inside of me.
Will it hurt? Will I like it?
Will he find me… sexy?
I scrub every inch of my body with the softly scented soap in his shower. Is it okay to borrow his razor? Deciding I’d rather use it and dispose of it rather than be self-conscious, I take it from the shelf, removing every hair from my body, shaving my pussy bare and clean.
As I press the soft towel against my skin, it feels as if every nerve ending is wide-awake, wanting touch, warmth. Desire floods through my body at the thought of the man waiting on the other side of that door.
Waiting, for me.
11
Cannon
I start innocently enough.“How about a shower? You’ve been working all day.”
“Sounds good.” Some of the tension leaves her face at my proposal. “Thank you.”
I show her where everything is, handing her a stack of clean towels. I go to the living room to wait. The sound of the water tempts me, but I give her her space.
She comes to me from the shower, fresh and pure as the water running through the mountain. Her hair is damp, her face bare. She wears nothing but sweats and a tee, and I can see the outline of her peaking nipples through her thin shirt.
She’s a vision. A thing of beauty. Staring at her makes that familiar tug pull in my chest.
It’s her first time. My little vanilla bean. I should lay her on a bed of roses or some shit and murmur in her ear while I take her gently.
But I’m not that man.
And I’m beginning to get the feeling from the sultry way she keeps looking up at me through those hazel eyes, she doesn’t want gentle.
She wants to play.
