“Nah. But I can’t run up any more bills.”
He wanted to tell her he loved her. And that he missed her. Instead, they talked for another minute or so and said goodbye.
Their time together was more valuable than ever after the no-call rule. Tara was off work the second Saturday night in November, and they’d made plans to go see a movie. The plans were a mutually agreed upon attempt to be out around other people. To slow down the intensity of their physical relationship. Or at least, when Tara had said she thought it was a good idea, he’d agreed to go along with the idea because she wanted it that way. The last thing he wanted was to slow down the intensity of anything—most particularly their physical relationship.
Tim picked her up, wondering how long the movie was going to last, calculating how much time he’d have alone with her afterward. She answered her door, and when he saw her in those jeans and his favorite blue sweater, he felt a jab clear through him. He meant to smile and say hello, and he leaned forward and kissed her instead.
Her folks were out for the night, but Scott, her little brother, was there. Tara called out that she was leaving and they were off.
“The movie’s at eight. You want something to eat first?” he asked, holding her hand as he drove, taking her hand with him when he had to use his hand to shift. She was so far away over there. Maybe bucket seats hadn’t been such a great idea.
“I’m not that hungry,” she said now. “But I’ll have a little something if you are.”
He wasn’t hungry at all. Not for food.
“That leaves us an hour to kill before the movie. Anything you want to do?”
“No.” She looked at him and smiled. “I missed you,” she said. Her eyes went straight to his groin, and he started to grow.
“You want to go back to my place?”
“Is your mom home?”
“No. Neither is Jeff. They’re both out for the evening.”
“So we’d be alone?”
“Yeah.”
“And miss the movie?”
“Unless you want to go. We can still do that, if you’d rather.” They’d said they were going. He’d take her if that’s what she wanted to do.
“But then we wouldn’t be able to go to your house.”
“That’s okay . . . ” It wasn’t. He was burning for her. It had been two days since they’d seen each other and that had been at school. But for her . . .
“No it’s not. I want to go to your house.”
His house on Maple Street was the only place they’d ever been completely alone.
They were on fire for each other. There was just no sense fighting it.
When they got to his house, Tim thought about the last time they’d been there, the night of the Halloween party. His mother had come home, and he and Tara had had to stop what they were doing. He didn’t want a repeat.
“Let’s go upstairs,” he said. There was a spare bedroom up there. It was way more secluded than his room in the middle of the house.
She didn’t ask why they were going upstairs, or what was up there, or what they’d do there. She just held his hand as he led her. She didn’t say a word as he walked her into the room that was seldom used, shut the door behind them and headed toward the one piece of furniture inside. A bed.
“Come here, Babe,” he said, lying down on the bed and holding his arms out to her. With her arms reaching for him, she did as he asked, settling down on top of him. She lowered her head to his, and he started to come alive again.
It felt like it had been a year since he’d had her tongue in his mouth. He kissed her lips and then, rolling her over, kissed his way down her neck, stopping to leave his mark before moving further down, kissing the bit of her chest that the V-neck of her sweater allowed him access to.
“Mmm,” she groaned, and he was hard enough to burst already. He straddled one of her legs, and she moved against him, the friction almost more than he could bear.
And he hadn’t even gotten under her sweater yet.
But he did. He pulled the sweater up, letting him see her bra in the glow coming in the window from the streetlight outside. The bra was white. And he loved seeing it. Who’d have thought a bra would be as much of a turn-on as what was underneath it?