I want to know the answer.
I want my hands on her.
I want to kiss her again.
Lowering the glass to the counter, I jog down the steps, shove my feet in a pair of tennis shoes, and I’m out the door. My head is on fire, and I’m walking fast. Almost like I’m being driven.
It takes a few minutes to walk the mile separating her house from my apartment. The lights are on inside, and I see the shadow of her sitting in front of that huge computer screen. Lifting my phone, I quickly text her.
You busy?
She doesn’t move at first, and I wonder how long it takes for a text to make it into space and back down to where her device waits beside her… Not long.
I watch as she straightens then lifts the phone. She holds it a minute, and my stomach tightens. Will she answer? Will she tell me yes?
Her reply makes me smile. Can’t concentrate again.
Are your wrists okay?
They don’t hurt, but they look bad.
My stomach tightens. I never want to hurt her. Can I see them?
I’ll send a photo.
Open the door.
Her shadow quickly turns in the chair. I wonder if she can see me through the window, standing here in my gray sweats, my white undershirt, and my old tennis shoes. She stands, briefly disappearing from my sight before opening her door a crack.
Her pretty, pretty face appears in the moonlight, and she hesitates a moment. I take a step closer, tense, anxious, feverish. Will she be angry I showed up on her doorstep? Will she tell me to go away?
She smiles, and my muscles relax. “What are you doing here?”
I jog the few steps separating us and stop in front of her. Her eyes are wide, moving quickly from my waist to my shoulders to my lips then all the way to meet my gaze. It’s electric.
“I had to see you again.” My voice is low, a little hoarse.
Withou
t a word, she reaches out, taking my hand and guiding me into the room, closing the door behind me. We stand face to face, breathing quickly, anticipation so high. Does she feel it, too? I know she does when she puts her palm flat against my chest, right over my beating heart.
I cover her hand with mine, lifting it out so I can see the dark bruise on the side of her wrist. It’s just below her little Believe tattoo, and it makes me wince.
“I’m sorry that happened.” Lifting her arms, I kiss one, then the other.
When our eyes meet, she reaches her hands around my neck, placing her thumb on my chin. Green eyes hold mine, and she rises onto her tiptoes, lifting her face. I don’t hesitate.
Our mouths collide, and it’s passionate, needy, hungry. Tongues caress, and she’s in my arms.
I want her, and I want her to know how much.
I’m not holding back anymore…
Tabby’s cheek is against my chest, and she’s spread across the bed when I open my eyes again. The sun floods the room with bright white light, and I lift my head, looking for a clock.
She doesn’t have one.
Her breath is a whisper against my skin, and I don’t want to move. I smooth her hair away from her cheek, thinking about last night. Even with the fever driving me here, it was different.