My stomach twisted delightfully at the picture he painted even as my spine straightened at the use of the word drug. “I don’t want to be your drug.”
“Too late.” He grinned, his glorious left dimple completely adorable, almost distracting me from my concern.
“Can’t I just be your person?” I asked, my eyes flickering between his and the thought-derailing dimple on his left cheek.
“Can’t you be both?” Abram slid his nose against mine, giving my lips a tender kiss. “Can’t I be both for you?”
“No. I don’t think so,” I said honestly, tilting my head such that I had his eyes again. “Drugs are altering. Addictive.”
“That seems just about right.” Another grin, a chuckle, and his arms came around me.
“But, Abram, I don’t want to alter you. I want you—who you fundamentally are—to stay intact. And being someone’s addiction automatically implies an unhealthy dependence. And—”
He stopped me with another coaxing, seductive kiss, his hands sliding into the back of my underwear and massaging my bottom, muddling my brain. God, that feels good.
Wait. What were we talking about?
I had no idea.
Must not be important.
Relative to his mouth moving against mine, his hands in my pants, the press of his erection against my belly, and the building “bliss” (as he called it), whatever I’d wanted to say didn’t seem terribly important.
I kissed him back. I floated on the high that was Abram’s mouth and hands, taste and smell. And when we were interrupted, it was the alarms we’d set on our phones.
He had to go.
Our time was up.
5
Kepler's Laws Derived
*Mona*
I spent the entire drive back from the airport and the climb up Lisa’s four flights of stairs calculating and recalculating the number of hours, minutes, and seconds until I would see Abram again. Was I doing this to avoid dwelling on my earlier shame-confusion? Perhaps.
Pushing aside cloudy uncertainty had been easy while Abram was here. Our time was short. Therefore, reason told me I shouldn’t waste a single second on self-assessments and second-guessing a fantastic orgasm.