Until June (Until Her 2)

“She’s a cunt and proved that shit. I don’t know the details. We don’t talk about her. I just know he’s done with her in a way that there will never be any fixing that shit. I can’t say I blame him. She should have stuck by her man or waited until he was on his feet, literally, before dropping that kind of bomb on him. They weren’t just dating, they were engaged and talking about starting a family. That shit proves the kind of woman she is.”

“Wow, what a bitch,” I murmur, and his arms give me a squeeze.

“Yep.”

“Good for him, getting over her, though.”

“Yeah, baby, good for him. He’s a good guy, has a solid family, so I think he’ll be all right.

“Good,” I whisper.

“You’ll meet him. We’ll take a day and ride out to see him and his parents one day.”

“On your bike?” I ask hopefully.

“You wanna go on my bike?” he asks, and I put my hand to his chest and drape my body over his.

“Do you remember when you rode down my block on your bike?” I inquire, and I feel him go solid, but he still replies with a quiet, “Yeah.”

“That night, I spent forever getting myself off. I was so turned on I couldn’t even get to sle—” Before I can say more, he rolls me to my back and covers my mouth with his, and then he does more things to me. Things that end with me screaming out his name, and him groaning mine down my throat, proving the reality of him is much better than the fantasy.

Waking, I feel warmth down my back, knees bent in toward mine, and a hand I know is Evan’s tucked close to my chest. It’s Saturday, and all I want to do is sleep, but I know I need to get up to let Ninja out and feed him, so I carefully unlace my fingers from Evan’s and scoot out of the bed. Once I’m free, I go to the bathroom and take care of business, brush my teeth, and grab a hoodie from my closet, along with a pair of cutoff sweats, putting both on before leaving the bathroom.

I take a second to appreciate Evan in my bed—the sheet down to his waist, his strong arms and wide chest on display, along with his tattoos. Fighting the urge to go back to bed and curl my body into his, I leave the bedroom, shutting the door softly behind me. “Hey, Pup-Pup,” I whisper when Ninja looks at me from his position on the couch and yawns. “Come on outside.” I walk past the couch and push the double glass doors open.

His eyes stay on me as he lets out an annoyed huff, which I’m sure means, It’s too early to get up. His body stretches out, his front paws hitting the floor first, before he slowly slides off the couch like he has all the time in the world. Laughing at him, I give him a cuddle when he reaches me before leaving the door open for him to come back in, and then head for the kitchen to start some coffee.

Sitting out on my back deck in a foldup chair, with my feet resting on the wood railing and a cup of coffee in my hands, I look over my shoulder when the door slides open, and watch Evan step out wearing nothing but a pair of loose shorts and holding a cup of coffee.

“Hey,” he greets, his hair rumpled and his face still soft from sleep.

“Hey.” My eyes rake down his chest and abs, taking in all that is him, and there is a whole lot more than there used to be—all of it seriously hot. Coming toward me, he bends at the waist, touching his mouth to mine, saying softly against my lips, “I don’t like waking without you.”

“I wanted to let you sleep,” I reply just as softly, and then laugh when Ninja nudges between us and leans against Evan, so he’s forced to take a step away from me.

“I see we’re gonna have problems.” He chuckles, running his hands over Ninja’s head.

“He’s my Pup-Pup.” I smile, rubbing Ninja’s snout, and he instantly forgets about Evan and moves closer to me.

“Pup-Pup?” Evan asks.

I look at Ninja then grin, and chirp, “Yep.”

His eyes drop to my mouth and he shakes his head, then mutters to Ninja, “Go get your ball.” As he sets his cup of coffee on the edge of the deck and grabs one of the chairs that are folded up against the side of the house, he unfolds it next to mine then fits his big body into it, causing the cheap metal to groan and squeak under his weight.

“I’m not sure my chairs are built for you,” I tell him, as he leans forward to grab his coffee, causing the chair to groan again.