Biker's Virgin

We could just have a good time out and spend the night together. When it became a problem, she'd know about it. I'd give her that. This? This didn't matter.

I texted her that I was back and kept myself busy as I waited to go pick her up. It was 7:32 when I pulled up at her building. I was always excited to see her when we'd been apart for a while, but I was taking the stairs two at a time. We had talked the whole week that I had been gone – texts, Facetime, all of that. Would that be what it was like when we were long distance?

I shook my head, getting rid of the thought. We weren’t long distance now, so it didn't matter. If we ever had to cross that bridge, we'd do it then. What I had to do was get to her fucking door so I could kiss her again.

I'd made it a whole year without touching her, but I was feeling this past five days without contact more and more with each step I took towards her door. I hadn't made reservations anywhere, but I was sure we'd luck out somewhere if we left early enough. With the way I was feeling, though, I was doubting how early we'd be able to make it out.

It was a short wait between my knock and her answer. The door swung open and her arms were around me in a second flat. I hugged her close, lifting her into me. The smell of her hair hit me first, sweet like vanilla. I squeezed her kissing her neck and shoulder. Oh yeah, I had missed her. I let her go when she unwrapped her arms from my shoulders. And then, she kissed me.

I held her close parting her lips with my tongue. Maybe I'd leave more often if she was this happy to see me when I got back. I could get used to this.

"Hey, how was your flight?" she asked me shyly, pulling away. I kissed her again, one more time, soft on her lips.

"It was good. Definitely better being back, though," I said. She giggled.

"We should go inside," she said, looking up and down the hallway. She took my hand leading me inside.

"Are you about ready to go?" I asked, then stopped. Her dining table was on the right when you walked in, usually covered with school stuff. Tonight, instead of books, it was covered in food. I noticed the two opposite place settings and looked at her.

"Are you expecting someone?" I asked her.

"I wanted it to be a surprise, that's why I didn't tell you."

"You cooked us dinner?"

"I wanted to stay in with you tonight. I thought you'd like it," she said, wrapping her arms around my waist. "Are you hungry?"

We had never lived together, but something about coming home and finding a home cooked meal just for me was suddenly making me think we had to try it out.

"Starving," I said, checking out the spread.

"Great. I'll be right back. Sit," she said, turning and disappearing into the bedroom.

One of the dishes was full of bacon-wrapped chicken breasts. Other had mashed potatoes in it. One was full of salad, and the last was cauliflower, broccoli, and carrots in a creamy sauce. She had asked me to wait, but would she be upset if I started without her?

She popped back out of her bedroom, in a t-shirt and shorts and her hair down.

"Ready?" I asked.

"One more thing?" I sat as she disappeared into the kitchen then came back out with a bottle of wine.

"This all looks amazing, babe," I told her.

"Good," she said smugly, smiling at me. She handed me the dish full of salad. "If you taste it and it isn't great, don't tell me." I took the wine and opened it, pouring us both glasses. She loaded my plate with food as I did that, obviously confident that I'd love her cooking. I was excited to try it, especially if this spread was going to be half as good as the breakfast we’d had before I left.

"So?" she asked, watching me taste a piece of the chicken. She knew it was delicious; she just wanted me to say it.

"It's amazing. When did you start cooking like this?"

"I invested in a few cookbooks. I eat in all the time already. I wanted to try to have some fun with it."

"You cook like this every night?"

"I wish," she said, taking a sip of her wine. "It's just me usually, so nothing this grand."

"Tell me when you're feeling domestic. I'll eat anything you put in front of me," I said. "I was getting sick of the hotel food."

"Hotel food's great."