Best I Ever Had

Story deserves the petals waiting tub side, for me to use in hot water full of bubbles, the chocolate truffles on the tray in the small fridge, someone going all out for her, to know how special she is, the romance and what she means to me—already, the whole nine yards. And I want to be the man to give it to her.

It’s late, rounding midnight fifteen minutes ago, and she worked a long shift. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary if she fell asleep. But then she pops up and rests back on her hands. “Yeah?”

After driving from Haywood back to Atterton, waiting three hours for her to close the coffee shop, starving, and now here, I could eat and pass out. That’s just not the night I had planned. “The food should be here any minute.”

Pushing off the mattress, she scoots across the top until her feet land on the floor. She pads barefooted across the floor and does a little spin on the balls of her feet as if no one is watching. Her arms fly away from her hips, and her gaze dips to the jeans that don’t do anything more than cover her. She looks up again to see me staring and then lowers her feet until they’re flat on the floor again.

Story smiles. “What?” she asks. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Rubbing my thumb over my bottom lip, I stare at this woman who lives with such an open heart. She gives all she has and can to everyone else yet doesn’t understand how the world will take advantage of her.

She’s beautiful in her naiveté. So fucking spectacular that I’ve started to wonder if it wasn’t a coincidence that I met her when I did. Maybe my misdeeds last summer paid off, or maybe the universe just knew I needed this woman in my life.

I don’t want to question it, but I can’t help thinking that she’s the payoff for the shit I’ve been through, the reward of heaven after walking through hell.

Licking my lips, I smile—for her, for me—and dance around the overwhelming need to say three specific words too soon for logic to make sense of, and instead, I downplay my true feelings and say, “I just like watching you.”

Her head tilts, long strands of brown and golden hair waterfalling over her shoulders. Even now, after a day that I know was tiring for her and a shift that was longer than it should have been, there are no signs of slowing down. She appears the opposite. In fact, she appears ready to take on the world. Where does she get her energy?

“You know you’re getting laid when you say such sweet things.”

“I know, but that’s not why I said it.”

She crosses the room, detouring from her original mission to come to me. Sitting on the arm of the couch, she caresses my face and then leans down to kiss me. “Then why’d you say it?”

“Because it’s how I feel. It’s what I like to do. Watch life through you.”

“Watch me?”

“Yes, Story.” When I pull her into my lap, laughter escapes her, but she relaxes with her arms loose around my neck. I rub her hip, already feeling the urge to skip to the good part and make use of the bed, maybe the couch, and definitely the window. I get harder imagining her nipples pressed to the cold glass as I fuck her from behind.

Fuck. The woman’s innocently sitting on my lap while I’m having filthy fucking thoughts about her. I’m an asshole. But I already knew that. She just hasn’t found out yet.

“I like watching you in my apartment.”

Her confession makes me grin. “Why is that?”

“Because you’re like a giant there. Your whole being exists in that small space filling the nooks and crannies where your body doesn’t. No part of my home is left untouched before you leave, including me.”

I feel the same about her. I’m the one who’s touched by her mere presence in my life. Every nook and cranny has her fingerprints. “I’m changing. I’ve started seeing things differently because of you.”

“You don’t have to change for me, Cooper,” she whispers.

Leaning back, she takes me in, the signs of her feelings so prevalent in her widening pupils. I don’t want to just be admired for my physical attributes, which is something I never thought twice about with a girl. With Story, I want her to feel like I feel, to know that something in my soul is addicted to hers, and my heartbeats feel like they belong to her.

I kiss her, needing her breath to be mine, to feel her need for me like I know she can feel mine for her. But a knock on the door sadly interrupts what was starting to heat. Tapping my chin, she says, “I’m starving. How about you?”