new things even if it’s not always something you’re keen on. And you bring me flowers and chocolate because you think that’s what I need based on someone else’s idea of what constitutes normal. That’s how I know.”
It doesn’t escape me that most of these references apply to our sex life, except for the last part, which only serves to reinforce how change is necessary, but it may need to be a bit more gradual. I have until the end of June, which should give me lots of time to make Charlene see that we’re supposed to be more.
That way, if I’m traded at the end of the season, asking her to come with me won’t be something she’ll balk at. Broaching that subject now doesn’t make sense, not when flowers and chocolate cause this kind of reaction.
“Darren? Did I say something wrong?”
I realize I’ve been staring at her, saying nothing in response. I smile in what I hope is reassurance. “No, firefly, you didn’t say anything wrong.”
She skims my knuckles and scoots a little closer. “This morning you threatened to kiss me for hours the next time we were together.”
“I did say that, didn’t I?” I drag a single finger along the column of her throat. “Would you like me to make good on that now?”
“Mmm. I would like that very much.”
I shift until I’m in the center of the couch and move Charlene to straddle me. I press the softest kiss to her lips, then trail my fingers along her throat. I don’t go back to her mouth like she wants me to. Instead I start at her fingertips, kissing each one, working my way over her knuckles, following the vein on the inside of her wrist all the way to her elbow. I keep going, up the inside of her arm, over her shoulder, across her collarbone, along the side of her neck and the edge of her jaw to her chin.
The entire time Charlene grinds over me, rubbing herself on my erection through the barrier of clothing. If we were naked, I’d be inside her already. For some reason, restraint is difficult to find and hold on to tonight. Maybe because everything is shifting for me, and I want it to be the same for Charlene.
I’m about to continue the kiss torture, starting with the neglected fingertips of the other hand, but Charlene grabs my chin to keep me from moving away. She doesn’t try to kiss me. Instead her eyes meet mine, uncertainty flickering there. “Stay here for a minute, please.”
I lean in and kiss the corner of her mouth before I brush my lips over hers. I curve my finger around the shell of her ear and ease my thumb along her throat until I reach the soft spot under her chin. Her pulse hammers there, hard and steady with untended need.
I angle her head slightly and tip my own in the opposite direction. Breathing in the warmth of her shaky exhale, I taste chocolate and marshmallow before our mouths are even connected. I press my lips to hers, reveling in the softness before I stroke along the seam. She tastes sweet, as she always does, and that little buzz of lightning always follows, much like the shock of light that appears in the sky when a firefly makes its presence known.
I don’t stay for a minute. I linger at her lips, sweeping inside her mouth over and over, slow and languorous, as if there is no other place to be, and we’re speaking through kisses that never end.
I have no idea how long we make out, but Charlene’s lips are swollen and her chin is red from stubble burn by the time I disengage.
“Should we go upstairs? Do you want me to change now?” she asks on a breathless whisper.
I skim her bottom lip with a fingertip and shake my head. “I want to stay right here.” I brush her nipple through her tank. “But I’d like to see more of you, if that would be all right.”
She nods. “Please.”
I find the hem and tug it up, exposing first her decorated navel, then the gentle curve of her belly to the swell of her breasts. I sigh when I reach her nipples. I had the barbells custom made for her. They boast the Chicago logo and my number on the little balls that hold them in place. She had them pierced a few months after we started dating. Avoiding them during the healing