Page 28 of Control (Everyday Heroes 3.50)
He reaches over and puts his hand on my waist.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
He starts to pull me over to him, and I have a slight panic attack.
I sit up instantly and shove to the end of the bed. “I...uh...I have to go.”
“Desi?”
Without responding, I stand in the darkened room and pretend to look for my clothes on the floor when I damn well know they are in the other room. It’s easier to look at the floor than him, but it does nothing to distract me from noticing the air smells like rain on the pavement and the sex we just had.
Like us.
I walk out of the bedroom without responding and hate when his feet pad on the floor behind me.
“What’s going through that complicated mind of yours?”
I want you. I only just had you, but it isn’t enough.
I find my shorts and pull them on as my mind frantically tries to shut out the butterflies beginning to dance. I’m not sure if they’re there because I already want him again or because I know I can’t have him.
That’s not how I do things.
This isn’t how I do things.
“Desi?” A little harsher, his sculpted body a silhouette against the sliding glass door at his back.
“I just—I heard the dogs barking. I need to take them out. I need...some of them get scared by thunder and I need to—” I stop, knowing that my excuse sounds just like what it is—an excuse—and yet I don’t do anything to correct it. “I need to make sure I shut the back door. They’ll run through it. Escape. I can’t lose dogs I’m supposed to be taking care of.”
His head is angled to the side as he watches me yank my tank top over my head, but I can’t see his eyes.
Oh, how I want to see his eyes.
His sigh fills the room. “I’ll walk you home—”
“No. It’s fine. I’ll be okay.” That means a kiss goodbye, and I can’t swoon right now when my insides have turned to mush and are already in a puddle at his feet.
It takes a second for me to find my flip flops and without looking his way, I mutter “Good night” like the chicken I am before walking out the door.
The screen door slams behind me as the rain hits me with each step through his backyard and into mine.
I thought I’d be able to breathe once I was outside of his house—when I was away from the scent of us together—and now it feels harder to draw in a breath.
It’s because the sex was good.
At least that’s what I’ll tell myself.
That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
Right up until I jog up onto my own porch, hair and clothes now plastered to my body, and yelp when Reznor’s hand flashes out to my bicep and spins me around.
Without a word, his lips find mine again. He’s instantaneously heat and desire as his tongue touches ever so briefly against mine and my arms fall lax to my side, afraid to betray my mind and grab on to him for one more round right here on the wet patio.
When we break from the kiss and he steps back, his eyes meet mine. He shakes his head ever so slightly. “There. Now you can go. Good night, Desi.”
And it’s only when he turns around to walk away that I realize he’s still buck naked.
And I’m royally screwed.
