Page 88 of Out of Bounds
She unravels herself from my hold and heads to the kitchen as my eyes close and I’m reminded of my earlier thoughts… the stakes have never been higher.I can’t fuck this up.
“Lemonade sounds great,” I tell her, drawing in a breath as I stare out to the pool, and the safety cover I’ve had installed now that Nelson is more mobile.
I’ve adjusted my home for them and I want them to be here and feel comfortable. I can’t scare her away. I won’t.
Aaron comes over and makes us all dinner. I goof around with Nelson while Annie works on her school project and I fall in and out of conversation with Betty as she potters, always restless if she isn’t doing something for someone.
But the whole evening, I’m trying to calm some boyish hormone-fueled frenzy that was ignited in Dallas and re-energized the instant I held Annie earlier. No matter how much going down on her and seeing the way her mouth fell open and her fingers fisted my hair as she orgasmed drove me wild. It was one moment. A night that Annie clearly didn’t want to go any further. Not to be repeated.
Once Nelson and Betty are in their own rooms, Annie and I shower and switch into loungewear – both shorts and T-shirts, Annie’s significantly skimpier and cuter than mine. Her shorts are short, her top tight fitting and showing her perfect shapely hips. She has socks pulled up to her calves. I shouldn’t be as turned on by a woman in loungewear as I am by Annie.
I hand her the controller and turn on the fire to heat the space. Annie finds her usual spot in the middle of the sofa and crosses her legs beneath her. I take up my usual position right beside her, legs kicked up on the coffee table as she searches for something to stream.
She doesn’t choose a movie, she plays music instead but I’m not focused on what. I’m acutely aware of two things: the first, Annie’s proximity; the second, that there’s something sticking in my ass.
Shuffling, I dig behind me and pull out… “What is this?”
Annie chuckles. “It’s a tickler.” She grabs the stick full of feathers from me. “It’s for sensory play.”
Then she switches onto her knees and comes so close to me I can smell her minty breath and the sweet strawberry scent of her body wash as she brings the feathers to my brow and slowly draws them down my nose, forcing me to close my eyes under the soft, sweeping touch.
She isn’t even touching me, yet every hair on my body stands to attention, every nerve in my system shifts to red alert.
38
ANNIE – MID NOVEMBER
I Imagine Him
I draw feathers along the outline of his strong features. His eyes are closed, his skin smooth. He exhales a sighed breath and his body relaxes under the light touch.
There are none of those creases in his face that give me pause sometimes. The kind that confused me when we almost kissed earlier. That told me how conflicted he was about what happened between us in Dallas.
I like you, Annie.
I still don’t know what us liking each other looks like, or how this thing plays out between us, with the mess of Auston and the complication of my sweet baby boy.
Tanner makes me laugh like no one else can. He looks out for me in a way nobody ever has. We get along better than any friend I’ve known, and the fire inside me every time I so much as look at him…
Do I dare?Do I dare push him and see how far this could go? Because I want to. I want him so much every part of my anatomy is aching for him and has been since that hotel room last weekend.
I hadn’t been touched by a man in nearly two years. Arguably, I’ve never been touched by aman. And there’s only one man I want to break the curse, over and over again.
Leaning closer to him, I bring the feathers down his jaw, his neck and the muscles that sit tightly beneath his hair, down to the hollow that sits invitingly above the neckline of his shirt.
I have no idea what I’m doing besides turning myself on, indulging in the sight of him as his head falls back into the sofa and there’s the subtlest tilt of his hips, a lift under his shorts that draws my attention and makes me dig my teeth into my lip.
I’m not asking for a diamond ring. Right now, I’m not capable of processing what comes tomorrow or what a mess I could be making of a friendship I treasure. But I know the pulsating ache between my thighs will only be sated by one thing.
One man.
His eyes dart open and they’re the darkest I’ve ever seen them. Darker than when he looked up at me from between my legs in Dallas. Lazy, heavy lids. Pupils dilated. I may not have graduated in psychology yet but I know enough to recognize mutual pull.
I don’t have to put my hand between my thighs to know that my body is melting over the way he’s watching me.
I yelp as he grabs the feather tickler and flips me onto my back, lying me down on the sofa. Those lines come back to the sides of his eyes and I know he’s worrying his way through reservations. There are walls – people, relationships, geography and careers – between us that won’t be surmounted by a moment of passion.
But I part my knees a little wider as Tanner watches me, swallowing deeply, that shift in his shorts growing more noticeable. He’s thinking about this, the way I imagine him sometimes. Too often. In my dreams, in moments of semi-lucidity in my bed, during lectures, any darn time my mind drifts to him in the day.
