Pocketful of Sand

After her bath, Emmy reads two of her favorite stories to me before her bedtime. As I watch her lips move and her eyes scan, as I listen to the brilliant way her young mind works, I pray that I won’t do anything to hurt her, intentionally or not. Children shouldn’t know hurt and fear the way she’s known them. Maybe that’s enough to last her a lifetime. Maybe the rest will be smooth sailing.

When she’s asleep, though, without her presence to distract me, the night drags on. I try to watch television, but nothing interests me. I find myself glancing outside repeatedly, looking for what I don’t know.

Well, yes I do. It’s not a what; it’s a who.

Cole. When I’m not actively thinking about something else, he’s on my mind. I click off the television and go to the kitchen for some water, my eyes automatically drawn to the house diagonal from mine. I wonder if he stays there at night. He was obviously staying there the night I went to get him. How many other nights has he spent there? Is he there now? If he is, why hasn’t he come over? Why haven’t I heard from him?

My endless spool of unanswered questions is enough to give me a headache, so I grab two Tylenol and take up a book that I bought from Jordan’s limited selection a couple of weeks back. I do my best to lose myself in it and let the heat from the fireplace sooth away my tension.

I wake up nearly two hours later, my book open and resting on my chest, the fire nearly died down. I’m almost grateful for the prospect of sleep. Trying not to think about Cole has been as frustrating as it’s been exhausting.

I stoke the fire, cut off the lights and head for bed. I must fall immediately to sleep, because it seems like a dream when I feel soft-yet-firm lips brush mine and a cool hand skates up the inside of my thigh.

I drift in that place between dream and reality for a few more seconds, enjoying the warm, liquid feel in my stomach and the ache that has started between my legs. But when cold air hits me as the covers are drawn slowly away from my body, I come groggily awake.

“Am I dreaming?” I say aloud.

“No, but I might be,” a sandpaper voice says.

Cole.

My heart speeds up to twice its normal pace and excitement races through me, waking me fully.

“Breaking and entering, huh?” I tease playfully, happier than I care to admit that he’s here. Finally. It seems like I’ve waited forever.

“I didn’t break anything, but I sure do plan to enter. Several times, actually.”

I grin, listening to the rustle of his clothes coming off in the dark.

“This is illegal, you know. To come into a tenant’s home unannounced.”

I hear the springs creak and feel the mattress dip as Cole sets his knee and one hand on the end of the bed. He slides his hands up my legs, parting them as he goes. I feel the scrape of his stubble at one point, up near my groin, and a wicked stab of want gushes through me.

I feel his weight settle on me, pinning me beneath his naked heat. He answers just before his lips take mine. “So sue me.”

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“Are you upset that I came?” Cole asks as he kisses a trail from my chin to my ear, his body still completely sheathed within mine.

“Not at all.”

“Good.” I hear the smile in his voice. “I missed you too much to stay away a second night.”

“Why did you stay away at all?”

“It was late by the time I got the water heater apart last night and then today I had to catch a ride with Jordan to Ashbrook for some parts that they didn’t have here. By the time I got it finished up, I knew you’d be right in the middle of getting Emmy ready for bed. I didn’t want to intrude, so I waited. But this was it. Maximum wait time. I’d have busted down your door if it had been two minutes longer,” he confesses with a lusty growl.

“Is that right, Mr. Testosterone?”

“Hell yeah, that’s right,” he says, flexing his hips and causing me to gasp at the hardness that’s already starting to take shape inside me. “Are you complaining about my testosterone?”

He swivels his hips, rubbing me in just the right spot. “God, no,” I moan quietly, tilting my pelvis to capture him more fully.

“Because I can leave if I’m bothering you.” He fastens his mouth on one nipple as he withdraws and then pushes all the way back into me, deep enough to rock my hips back.

“You’re bothering me alright,” I tell him breathlessly, “but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Good, because I’m thinking that as long as you’re here, you’re stuck with me.”

I don’t get to worry over that comment because Cole leans back and pulls me up into a sitting position, held in his arms, impaled on his length. But when I’m lying bonelessly beside him an hour later, I can think of little else.

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As much as I’d love to wake up beside Cole, I’m afraid that Emmy will rise early again, a fluke thing, and find us in bed together. I don’t think she’s ready for that, no matter how much she likes Cole or thinks he makes me happy.

But in the wee hours, Cole, seemingly almost as in tune with Emmy’s welfare as I am, gives me a long, passionate kiss and announces that he’s leaving.

“I probably shouldn’t be here when Emmy gets up.”

I don’t argue, because it’s exactly what I was thinking.

I sit up to watch him dress, shafts of moonlight pouring through the curtains he insisted on opening. I want to see you, he’d said. I want to see your face when you come. I want to see your beautiful legs spread and I want to watch my cock slide in and out of you. I don’t ever want to forget what that looks like.