“I know,” he murmured and there was a great deal of feeling in his soft words.
Perhaps sensing I’d had enough, perhaps wanting a s’more, he showed me how to make them and we ate them. Then we made out by the grill in the now-chilly Autumn air, our mouths tasting of s’mores (Hector’s kisses were amazing but when he tasted of s’mores, they were simply heaven).
After s’mores, we walked upstairs and lay, fully-clothed (but shoeless) on his bed and watched a movie (The Big Easy, I hadn’t seen it in years and forgot how good it was).
Then, likely inspired by the movie (thank God), Hector played out a certain part but his effort lasted longer, was a bit more creative, included more than just fingers (moving on to lips and tongues) and it finished a whole lot differently.
Before he snapped out the light, he put balm and a new bandage on my tattoo.
Then he tucked my back to his front, YoYo snuggled close into the crook of my lap, Hector held me tight and I laid there, listening to him breathe (and YoYo snort) until I knew he was asleep.
Then I rewound my day from start to finish.
Then I rewound it again.
Then I did it again.
Then I felt the wetness slide silently down the sides of my eyes, soaking into the mound of pillows I shared with Hector, I put my arm on his at my waist and linked our fingers.
In his sleep, his fingers tensed until they held mine tight.
Only then did I fall asleep.
* * * * *
Hector
Hector felt Sadie’s fingers relax in his and he knew she was finally asleep.
He took in the scent of her expensive perfume, knowing and liking the fact that it was on his sheets.
His arm wrapped tighter around her waist, pulling her deeper into his body.
Her head tilted forward, his went with it, he buried his face into her hair but he felt the wetness her tears left on the pillow against his cheek.
His eyes opened in the dark.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered.
Chapter Twenty
Bon Bons
Sadie
Art was filled, shoulder-to-shoulder, with people.
I’d never had an opening this huge.
Even before my father was arrested for trafficking drugs and half my contacts shunned my openings (the other half only continuing to come to drink my champagne, look down their noses at me and feel superior), no opening had been this popular.
My artist, Lisette (who painted unbelievable watercolors), was beside herself with the turn out.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was not prospective buyers but the ever ready to party Rock Chick/Hot Bunch crew, complete with Hector’s entire family, Indy’s Dad Tom, Tod and Stevie, Tex and Nancy and Duke and his wife Dolores. Even the Zano clan came, Uncle Vito and Angela, Dom and Sissy and Ren and some woman I didn’t know.
Indeed, every single Rock Chick and their respective Hot Bunch Guy was there. All the girls looking glamorous, all the men looking knockout gorgeous wearing suits and shirts with collars opened at the neck.
That said, Duke had dressed up how I guessed any Harley biker guy would dress up, he still had the bandana around his forehead and the leather vest but his black t-shirt had long sleeves and no saying emblazoned on the chest and he’d switched to black jeans. Tex, on the other hand, didn’t look any different and was wearing jeans and a plaid flannel shirt.