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“Then you’re coming with me on Wednesday. It’s my day off, so I’m taking you on a date of sorts.”
She squints her eyes. “Do you not remember that I won the pool game? You’ve yet to pose for me.”
“How about when I get home tonight?”
“I’ll be in bed.”
“Touching yourself?”
She giggles. “Not touching myself.”
“Cross your heart?”
She brings up her right hand and crosses her heart.
“Maybe we’ll have time Wednesday, and if not, whichever day I have off next, I’m all yours. I never asked though, is this naked sketching? Because if it is, I need to do some primping.”
“Primping?” Her eyebrows rise.
“Yes, to bring him out in all his glory.”
She laughs, and her forehead falls to my chest. “You’re something else.”
“I’m hard is what I am. If you sketch me right now, you’re going to see my hard-on.”
“Maybe I want to see it.” I move my hands to unzip my pants, but she places hers over mine, stopping me. “Later.”
Then I bring her hands up to my nose and inhale. Her scent is as good as I thought it would be, and I close my eyes as if I can relish it forever. I take one of her fingers and put it in my mouth, and she arches it over my tongue. Damn, she’s something.
“You taste perfect. Now I’m really going to struggle with this rule.” I tap the marker against the whiteboard.
She laughs and walks away. “I’m gonna go change into those pajamas you love so much.”
“Rule number two!” I call after her.
“You won’t even be home.”
I never should’ve tasted her because I’m more obsessed than ever over what it’ll be like to sleep with her. I haven’t wanted a woman this badly ever in my life.
I go to work that night only thinking of Brinley and her smell and her taste and her noises. It’s a surprise that I make it through my shift without racing back to the apartment, but I struggle through.
When I get home, she’s asleep on the sofa. I pick her up and take her into her bedroom where she startles awake, her eyes bulging out.
“What are you doing?” Her voice is raspy, and it makes me wonder if this is what she’d sound like if I woke up beside her one morning.
“I’m putting you in bed.”
“Oh.” She relaxes against the mattress. “Thank you. I fell asleep. I put some dinner in the fridge for you. Nothing special, but this way, you don’t have to cook before you sleep. I just hope I don’t give you food poisoning.”
I kiss her forehead. “Go to bed, Brinley. Sweet dreams.”
“Night night.” She rolls over on her side, and I get a peek of her ass from her pajama shorts riding up. As if I needed that after earlier tonight.
I go into the fridge and see that she made a chicken breast with rice and broccoli on the side. I’m not sure I’ve ever witnessed her cook a full meal like this. Usually, it’s mac and cheese, or sometimes when I’d come home, she’d be eating a bowl of cereal.
My chest warms at the thought of her doing this for me. I’ve never experienced anyone cooking for me except for the odd girlfriend who never lasted longer than a few months or so.
I heat up the plate in the microwave and turn on the television. I’m almost done with my meal when her door creaks open, and she stands at the entry to the living room, squinting at the lights.
