Completely (New York 3) - Page 38
She didn’t give herself a lot of room to just be.
Maybe nobody had ever wanted that from her. Just to see her like this, at rest, relaxed. Winston didn’t seem like a guy who would’ve wanted that.
Kal reached out and pushed Rosemary’s hair back behind her ear. He kissed her cheekbone where high-elevation sunburn had left the skin pink and a little chapped. Then he kissed the spot by her ear where the light picked up tiny, downy hairs.
She smiled with her eyes closed. “What are you doing?”
“Kissing you.” He kissed the bridge of her nose and the space just above the corner of her lip. Then her chin. The arch of her white eyebrow.
“Why?”
“You have to know everything, princess?”
When he kissed her mouth, her lips were soft, receptive. “Yes.”
Kal put his hand on her shoulder, his thumb
against her neck. He could feel her heartbeat, slow and strong. He kissed her deeper, just to feel it speed up, to feel the life in her and the rough slide of her tongue against his, to hear the sound of them breathing in the empty apartment.
It felt good kissing Rosemary. He tried to think of something that felt better, but nothing came to mind.
They kissed and nudged their bodies closer together, brought their arms and hands into it, stroking. By some kind of mutual agreement, they didn’t let it get hot. This was tired kissing. Good-night kissing. Slow, easy, warm, sliding, breathe-a-little-hard kissing. It made him hot, and tight, but not in a bad way.
It was goodbye kissing, maybe.
Kal didn’t want that, but Rosemary might.
The thought messed with his game. He pulled away. “Am I going to see you again?”
She tilted her head. Her lips were red and wet. “Do you have to know everything?”
“Not usually.”
“Why don’t we just see what happens?”
“Sure.”
The question had broken whatever spell the silence had granted them, and Kal knew in the awkward seconds afterward that it was time for him to take off. She was thinking her Rosemary thoughts—wanting to get in the shower, wanting to call her kid—and this time she didn’t want his Kal thoughts anywhere in the vicinity.
He stood. “My mom’s going to be wondering where I’m at.”
“Of course. I’ve kept you longer than I should have.”
“It’s okay.” He found his ratty Patagonia fleece on a wooden hanger in the closet by the front door. It looked absurd, all alone in there, dirty and ancient. Kal put it on. He tried to think of a good way to ask her what he had to ask her next, but there wasn’t one. “Did you happen to get any cash at the airport?”
“You need money for a taxi.”
“I wish I could say no. But…yeah.”
“I did stop at the exchange window. Just a minute.” She stood to search through her pockets, unzipping them one by one, while Kal tried not to feel like a gigolo. Or a thief. “Here you are.” She extended a handful of twenties. “Will this do?”
Kal plucked one out of the wad and left the rest. He’d take the train home. There was no rush. “This is enough.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
There wasn’t anything to do then but open the door, so he did that, and she leaned into him, hands on his shoulders, and bussed his cheek. “Take care of yourself.”
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