“Nah. It’s for your…” I gesture toward her legs. I can’t bring myself to say the dirty words to her outside of sex because she’s such a sweet, innocent thing. Plus, she might not want me saying that kind of shit. “Your muscles might be sore.”
Her face turns crimson as understanding dawns. “I’m fine. I don’t need anything. In fact, I think I have class.” She looks at her bare wrist.
Fuck. She wants to leave already? “I have to make you breakfast first,” I protest. “You can’t leave without some food in you.”
“I usually don’t eat a big breakfast.” She backs up toward the bedroom door. “I’ll just grab a muffin from the campus café.”
My brain screams “no” so loud I’m surprised alarms aren’t set off. I lunge toward her, tripping over the blanket and nearly crashing her into the floor of the hall. Somehow—probably from all those years of training—I manage to keep my balance and pull us both upright, but, in the process, the blanket is trampled underfoot. I’m pressed toe to chest with Erika’s tiny body. My dick flares to full mast against her stomach.
“Shit. I forgot I didn’t have any clothes on,” I apologize.
“I don’t either.” She states the obvious.
“Do you really want to leave? Because if you do, let me get dressed quick and I’ll walk you to your class.” I try to loosen my hold on her, but my arms aren’t doing what I’m telling them to do. They’re locked around her back, making it so she can’t run off.
“You don’t have to,” she says into my chest.
“Yeah. Yeah, I do. If I don’t walk you to your class, I’m going to worry and I won’t be able to focus on training, which will make Morry mad and I don’t want to make her mad because she’s like a second mom to me.”
I knew I shouldn’t have said “I love you” last night, because now she’s scared. She probably just wanted to jump around my pole for a few hours and then take off instead of hearing some stupid declaration of love. I don’t know how to undo it, though. It’s not like I can rewind time. Time to use my balls for something other than making spunk. I take a deep breath.
“Erika, I’m sorry if I scared you last night. I’m not too experienced”—in other words, I have zero experience—“so I’m not sure what the right thing is to do the morning after”—because marriage is probably out—“but I figured I should make you breakfast, get you a hot towel”—get down on my knees and beg you to stay with me always—“that sort of thing.”
She sighs and I feel her ribcage expand like a tense balloon against my torso. “I’ve never done this either. When I woke up, the apartment was quiet and I just…I guess in movies and stuff, you’re not even supposed to spend the night. I should’ve gotten up and left so you wouldn’t have to deal with this morning-after stuff.”
“Left?” I shout like some outraged eighty-year-old.
“I-I-I didn’t want to overstay my welcome.” She draws back.
I slam her against me again. “I just went to feed my cat,” I try to explain. I know I sound pathetic, but I don’t care. It’s not like I can fuck my pride at night. “I don’t want you to leave. I never want you to leave. If it was up to me, you’d stay in the condo all day and all night except when I had to train or you needed to dance, but we’d still be together because I don’t think I started living until I met you.”
“Oh.”
It’s a small sound, quietly spoken, but there’s warmth there. Surprise, too, but mostly genuine, warm delight. She hesitates and then wraps her arms around my waist. “You’re, um, hard again.”
“I’m always hard when I’m with you.” I might as well confess because it’s not like I can hide it.
“Is Tuesday okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Your heart’s beating fast.”
“I thought you were leaving me and that apparently is the most terrifying thing I’ve experienced in my twenty-five years.”
“You box?”
“Yup.”
“Can I watch you sometime?”
“Can I watch you dance?”
“Yes. If you want.”
“I want.”
“Okay.”
I let out a long exhale and force my arms to release her enough that her cheek is no longer mashed against my pectorals. “You hungry?”
“Yeah. I could eat.”
A smile breaks across my face. “That’s my girl.”
12
Erika
“Ice cream for breakfast?” I laugh as he places the bowl in front of me. It’s the most perfect banana split I’ve ever seen. Tuesday hops out of my lap where she’s been perched since I woke up and goes straight to the counter to investigate the bowl. She gives it a small sniff before turning tail and hopping down, taking off toward the bedroom. It might not be to her liking, but it looks perfect to me.