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“I was too young to be there,” she confesses. “I was twenty. Almost twenty-one but I was too young to know what was in store for me. I’m so grateful that you were the man who took me to that room.”
“I’m grateful too.”
She cups a hand over my cheek. “That night taught me that sex can be this incredible experience. I learned to demand more from my lovers. I learned to ask for what I really wanted.”
I drop my gaze to the bed. I can’t hear this. I don’t want to know about her other lovers or how they got her off. I sure as fuck don’t want to hear how I played a hand in that. Literally played a hand because I fucked her tight pussy with my fingers until she came.
“Whose turn is it now?” she asks as if I can go on with this “game.”
I feel as though I was pushed into a confessional booth just as I was the one time my grandmother dragged me to church with her. I was ten, maybe twelve, and my sins at the time amounted to throwing a rock at a squirrel.
My aim was shit. The squirrel was fine.
She shifts in my lap to straddle me, resting her hands on my shoulders.
Her gaze sears into me. I feel so damn exposed. It’s almost as if she’s looking straight into my soul.
If she keeps that up she’s going to realize I’m in love with her.
“His voice was like a wave that met her at dawn,” she whispers, her fingers tangling in my hair on the back of my head.
I finish the last line of the Garin poem she’s quoting, “It soothed her very soul until she took her last breath, and then it stayed with her beyond.”
With more tenderness than I’ve ever experienced, Eloise kisses me in a way that will stay with me forever.
“Are we eating pizza for breakfast?”Eloise laughs as she enters my kitchen. “How did you get pizza delivery at six in the morning?”
I look her over. She back in my white button-down shirt and since only one button between her breasts is holding it place, I catch a glimpse of her panties underneath.
I’m dressed for my day in a shirt that matches the one she’s wearing, along with navy blue pants and a striped blue tie.
“I saved the owner’s life last year.”
It’s the truth, but that’s not only reason I was able to get a ham and pineapple pie delivered this early. The owner of my favorite pizza place starts his day early so that anyone who wants a slice of pizza with scrambled eggs and bacon on it, and a coffee knows where they can go. The food is free in exchange for a donation to the food pantry across the street from his business.
When I called him an hour ago to request a special order, he said he couldn’t refuse.
I’ll reward his kindness with a healthy donation to the pantry on my way to work.
She pops open the lid of the box. “Ham and pineapple? This is my favorite.”
I know. Stevie is the source for that tidbit of information.
We were making homemade pizza one night when she asked if we could race to a market to get ham and pineapple. She mentioned that it was Eloise’s favorite so she wanted to try it out. She wasn’t a fan. I was.
She reaches for a piece, but pulls back to lick sauce from her finger. “It’s delicious. Is it your favorite too?”
I take her hand in mine and trace my tongue over the finger she just licked. “It is now.”
“We’re kind of perfect for each other,” she says, before she sucks in a deep breath. “I mean, we have a lot of fun.”
I like her first statement more, but before I can tell her that my phone starts ringing.
Her eyes dart to it, but she doesn’t say a word.
I do when I scoop it up and answer it, “Dr. Morgan.”
I listen to Julissa rattle off an update about a patient in the CCU. I turn my back to Eloise as I list the blood tests I want done on the young man before I arrive at the hospital.
