She's the One

Excitement flutters against my breast. I want to touch her, figure out what parts of her body make her squeak in excitement. Her breath rings uneven in my ear. I want her to feel the same things I am feeling. I want her to feel like she’s coming home too.

“Is there anywhere I can’t touch?” I ask. This is so new to me. I don’t want to get it wrong but I want it so badly. I know I can’t stand when other people randomly touch me. Not Star, though. She can touch me anywhere she wants. I don’t want her to ever stop touching me.

She huffs out a laugh and even that gust of air sends shivers down my spine. “No, go ahead.” Her mouth forms in a smirk like I said something funny.

I push the flannel off her shoulders. Her heavy breasts bounce lightly under the thin cotton of her shirt. Her nipples are already hard. I slide my hands down the front of her chest until I reach those hard nubs. I rub them slowly, feeling them tighten under my light touch.

“Are you sensitive here?” I ask. I try and read her face but I’m not the best at reading people.

“A little.”

“Does this hurt?” I roll one between my thumb and forefinger and give it a small pinch.

“N-no,” she chokes out. My sex clenches at the rasp in her voice. Did I do that to her? It spurs me on.

I grin. So she is sensitive. I apply a little more pressure and that makes her head fall back. I run my tongue along my lower lip. I want to feel that tight tip in my mouth. “I want to kiss you here.” I tweak her again, silently begging for her approval.

She nods. It’s a race to see who can get her shirt off first. The T-shirt flies over her head and we both send it sailing across the room. Star falls back, her nipples quivering and exposed.

I eat her up with my eyes, taking in the upward slope of her honeyed skin and the dusky circle that frames her puckered nipples. She’s full of beautiful curves and sexy shadows. I draw a finger in the valley between her two ripe breasts and watch as her skin prickles in response.

“You’re so beautiful,” I whisper in amazement. This is what’s been missing from my life. Her.

“Not like you,” Star protests.

“Not like me at all,” I admit. “If I had boobs like yours, I’d never get anything done. I’d just be playing with them all the time.” It’s part joke and part true. I curl my palms around the underside of her breasts and push them up, enjoying the weight and warmth in my hands.

“Who says I don’t?” Star retorts, but she’s blushing, her golden skin turning rosy. I see that same flash of something in her eyes I caught when she was standing in my doorway.

“You should. They’re spectacular.” Big, but pert, lush on the top and the bottom. Like perfect globes on top of a sexy cake. “I bet they look amazing in a lace bra. A demi-cup. Maybe a polka-dotted one. I like polka-dots,” I tell Star with a grin. Suddenly my mind is filled with seeing her wear different things. I wonder if this is what she felt when I sent all those pictures. If she felt like I did right now then I understand why she showed up.

“Polka-dots forever,” she says, giving me a thumbs-up.

It’s funny, I think, because I never imagined that I’d be in the middle of a sexy situation talking about bras and favorite patterns but here I am and I love it. I feel like I could tell Star anything and she’d be interested in talking about it. No judgment from her. No telling me that I’m silly or frivolous. That she actually listens to what I’m saying. I want to tell her my truth. She showed me she’s a little unsure about this. I want to show her I am too. That I’m scared she’ll get a look underneath the pretty everyone is always calling me and see something she doesn’t find pretty anymore.

“I’m not ambitious,” I blurt out. “I’m kind of lazy, not super smart, and I just kind of want to make things pretty.” It’s the truth. I do things because they are what I’m supposed to be doing. Not because I long to do them. I move through the motions of the day. Only little things excite me. Until Star. As corny as it sounds, she’s been the star in my life since I spotted her.

“So?”

“So...is that okay with you?” I sit back on my haunches and bite the corner of my lip. Someone like her could have someone who is so much more. She is full of passion. The only thing I’m passionate about is well. Her. “You’re always doing...something. And I’m not a doer. I’m a watcher. I’m a...I’m good at giving support and telling people they’re doing awesome, but I don’t do stuff myself.”

Star struggles to a seated position, her boobs bouncing slightly. My eyes fall to them, unable to help myself. She’s so perfect.

“Eyes up here, babe,” Star orders.

I snap to attention. “Sorry,” I mumble.

“It’s okay. I know I’m hot,” Star proclaims, but again I can see that’s all bravado. She’s not used to anyone telling her she’s hot or sexy, which is weird because she’s so hot and sexy that it’s making it hard for me to concentrate on words and crap. “You do know that the reason that everyone likes you is because you tell people they’re awesome and that you give people support. I mean, I guess you don’t know, but that’s why people fight over you. Because you’re beautiful inside and out.”

Now it’s my turn to blush. I soak in what she’s saying. Hearing her say that about me makes me feel as though someone sees me for who I am for the first time. She looks past the layer of pretty that everyone else is always commenting on. It means everything to me.

“Anyway, since I’m an artist, I need constant support and encouragement. So much of it that you’ll probably get sick of me,” she continues.

I shake my head vigorously. That actually sounds wonderful. I could spend the rest of my life doing those things and be happy. “Never,” I breathe out. I can’t wrap my mind around not wanting that.

Sick of Star? Sick of watching her draw? Sick of seeing her face light up with joy about her work? Sick of being next to someone so interesting and talented? It could never, in a million years, happen. That sounds like a dream come true.

“And I won’t ever get tired of hearing nice things. Okay?” she reassures me.

“Okay.” I beam. This is perfect. More perfect than I imagined a relationship could be. I am now beginning to understand why people are always seeking out another half. Because you have to find the other person who makes you whole and I believe my person is Star. Wait. We are in a relationship? “We’re a couple now, right?” I ask.

Star bursts out in laughter. “Yes, we’re a couple.” My heart gives a happy flutter. That feeling of home settles over me again.

“And we’re exclusive. You don’t get to kiss other girls or other guys,” I push. The thought of Star with another person makes me ill. “I’ll get mad,” I add. I want to make sure we’re on the same page. I know I can get things mixed up sometimes and I want to get this right.

“Um, no I’m not kissing anyone else.” She cocks her head. “What happens when you get mad?”

I make a face. “I cry, mostly.”

“Well, that’s disturbing. I don’t want you to cry.” She reaches up and strokes my cheek.

“It’s a terrible thing,” I admit. “I have weird power when I cry.”

“I can see that.” She fights a smile.

“Okay, since we’ve decided that we’re a couple and no one else exists—” I move back toward us. Closing the space I’d made. “I want to kiss you again.” I lick my lips, tasting her there still. I want more. “Kiss you other places too.” My face heats as I admit what I want.

Star laughs helplessly again. “I can see being with you is going to be a sweet ride.”

I don’t care as long as she gets on. Okay, maybe off too.

Chapter 8

Star