Page 66 of Double Dared
I turned to my front camera, too, giving him a soft look because he was so beautiful, and it made me all soft inside whenever I looked into his eyes. “The best kind.”
We spoke for a few minutes longer, and I was veryaware that cum was cooling on his body, but that he was in no hurry to go to the bathroom to rinse it off.
When we said goodbye, I showered, returned to my bed, pulled the spare pillow under my arm, and fell asleep with Taylor before my eyes. Taylor, and a quiet certainty that this was not just a fun little thing we did in our spare time.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
harrison
I stoodunder the pale white light, waiting for him to emerge and laugh as loudly as I expected he might. People came in pulses, hauling their luggage behind them, looking for which way to go.
Finally, when I saw the mop of wavy locks and his defined, expressive eyebrows above all the other heads, I lifted the sign a little higher, wearing a very innocent expression under a chauffeur’s hat on my head.
Taylor grinned at the hat, then looked down at the sign reading Mr. Spicy Pants, then threw his head back and laughed the roof off the airport.
He dropped his duffel a few feet away from me, then leaned in and ran like he was on the football field, ramming through a line of opponents. He hit me with his weight so suddenly that I had to step back not to fall over, his arms wrapping around me hard.
It was incredible how straight-passing that one move was, even though its sole goal was to hold me. Hewas so much like a bro who just saw his old army buddy that it disoriented me. “Spicy Pants, huh?” he growled into my ear.
“Aren’t you?” I asked, hugging him a little more gently.
“If you want me to be,” he said, then relaxed his grip on my torso as he leaned in and pressed his lips softly against mine. “I missed the taste of you.” He leaned a little deeper in, inhaling a breath of air near my neck. “And the smell of you. And the feel of you.” His hand moved naughtily down the small of my back.
“You’ll get us arrested,” I said, but I made no move to stop him.
“I’ll be your prison wife,” he said.
A laugh ripped through me, and I shook my head, finally stepping back from him when he released me. I missed his good mood, the rays of sunshine that never seemed to dim. I missed what it did to me. “Four days is way too long,” I scolded him, picking up his duffel and carrying it for him.
His gaze moved over the duffel in my hand, lips on the verge of parting to tell me he could handle it, but then he just relaxed and walked beside me, shoulder touching shoulder. “Never let me do that again,” he said instead.
“I’ll buy you a chain and a ball, my dear,” I said in a suave tone.
“Good,” he said, voice falling deep.
We got into my car, buckled our seat belts, and I drove off the airport parking slowly before reachingthe highway. Music came quietly from the disc in the player, Queen’s greatest hits.
“What do you want to do?” I asked him.
Taylor’s head was leaning calmly against the headrest, eyes closed, lips moving to the lyrics of “I Want To Break Free.” He opened one eye and looked at me. He was adorable when he did that. “I want to shower. And I want to stay in. And you could make us a tea like that time we were hungover on Sunday. And you can tell me more about Tarkovsky.”
“Love it when you talk movie to me,” I said.
“Better yet, you can show me,” he said.
I drove on quietly, holding back a smile that threatened to split my face in half. Some part of me, somewhere deep and far away, thought he was just being nice to me, making sure to bring up my interests every so often to make me feel heard. But then, did it matter if he was just being polite if it meant he listened to me? If it meant he heard me, knew me, and wanted to be there for more? Was that not the entire point? Nobody had ever bothered to do it, even out of politeness, for longer than the first date.
“Then that’s exactly what we’re going to do,” I said, not mentioning what I’d done to the rooftop of my building. He would see if after showering and catching a breath.
Taylor sang the entirety of “Bohemian Rhapsody” to perfection, not once stumbling over the words, even if he couldn’t hit those Freddie Mercury notes quite right. I loved that he was relentless in trying, though.
I parked my car in the garage under the building, stepped out with Taylor’s bag, and led the way to the stairs. We climbed up to my floor together, Taylor in front of me, his ass full and firm and stealing my attention completely.
Taylor showered alone while I prepared a pot of tea. He came out dressed in his cozy, baggy sweatpants and a slightly oversized T-shirt, towel in one hand, drying his hair. “Smells like nettle and mint,” he said.
He was right. They made a healthy tea if prepared correctly, so I placed the pot and teacups on a tray and sized him up and down with a thorough look. He was so otherworldly, achingly beautiful. Even more so than four days ago when he’d left.
“Let’s have this outside,” I said.
