The Build Up (70)

“I should have been there today. He could have died. All because I was just too annoyed to leave my house. Ari, my brother could have died.”

“But thank God he did not. He’s bruised but not broken.”

“Thank God indeed.”

I bit my lip and tapped my fingers on the kitchen island. Porter grabbed my hand. “What’s wrong?”

I felt a crushing agony in my chest. “I’m just...sad for you. Anxious for you. And I can’t do anything to help you feel better.”

Porter moved his hand up my arm, his index finger leading the way. Goose bumps appeared wherever he touched. He moved in closer, putting his lips on my neck. I leaned into it, allowing myself the pleasure of feeling the warmth of his lips and wetness of his tongue as it glided up and down my neck. His lips reached my earlobes, his tongue circling the skin near my earring. If this was what he needed, I’d give it to him. Maybe this was what I needed too.

“Who says you aren’t making me feel better?” he said in a husky whisper.

I sighed, enjoying the familiarity of his lips against my skin. “Your mom wanted me to look after you. You didn’t even eat.”

“I don’t need to eat. I’m with you. I’m fine.” Porter’s kisses traced along my jawline, then across the bridge of my nose. “I love your nose.”

“My nose?” I repeated, puzzled at his random thought. I never really found my wide, upturned nose interesting.

“Yep. It just fits your face. Plus, the freckles. Very fucking cute.”

I giggled like a teenager. “Cute? Oh, really? Freckles are a turn-on now.”

“Hmm. Really,” said Porter as he kissed the tip of my nose. “Everything about you turns me on. You know this.”

I felt my breathing become uneasy. Porter took my hand, leading me toward my bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed and waited with anticipation. If the reason he couldn’t eat was because he had an appetite for sex, I was all for being on the menu. I felt an electric throbbing in my abdomen that seemed to travel to the tips of my toes.

Porter pulled his shirt over his head. I watched, my eyes roaming all over his body. Every sinewy muscle in his abdomen flexed with fluidity. It’s not like I hadn’t seen Porter naked a ton of times. But it seemed like he enjoyed getting naked for me. Enjoyed the buildup. It was like opening a present on my birthday every time.

Porter slowly pulled down his sweats, revealing royal blue Calvin Klein boxers. I thought about Marky Mark and the classic Calvin ads. Porter could have given him a run for his money. He sat on the bench on the end of my bed and took off his socks. He then stood in front of me, in just his boxers. And with an erection that was hard to miss. No pun intended.

We hadn’t had sex in a couple of weeks, and I needed it. Wanted it. Missed it. I moved to take off my own pants and Porter bent down, putting his hands on my thighs.

“Ari, stop. Just wait...”

I froze. “What? What is it?”

“I don’t want to have sex tonight.”

I ignored my clitoris beatboxing all over the place, like Doug E. Fresh, choosing to think like a rational adult. As much as I wanted to sex this man like crazy, given the circumstances, maybe now wasn’t the time.

“It’s totally fine. We don’t have to.”

Porter groaned. “Trust me, I want to. I just... I don’t want you to think all we do is... Or all I want is... I’m not trying to violate your boundaries.”

I laughed. “Porter, you’ve never violated my boundaries. I’m not worried about that.”

Porter bit his lower lip, the color in his cheeks blush pink. “I know. It’s just. Right now, we don’t know where we are. I don’t need the confusion. I just want to touch you. Hold you. Lie with you. Be intimate without being...well...intimate. Just let me hold you, Ari. Can we do that?”

I sat back on my elbows and looked at Porter. I smiled. He stood there in his boxers asking me to allow him to be something a lot of men hadn’t—vulnerable.

“Sure.”

Porter smiled. “Okay. But first, let me undress you.”

Suspicions rising, I gave him a piercing look. “Undress me? And you don’t want to have sex?”

Porter shook his head. “No sex. I’m not lying. When have I ever lied to you?”

I thought about it. Porter truly had never lied to me. Ever.

Porter bent down and softly peeled down my leggings. I lifted my hips, and they slid down easily over my thighs and bare feet. Then I remembered...

Oh, fucking hell.

“Are those Wonder Woman underwear?” said Porter, trying hard to suppress a chuckle.

Shit.

My faced warmed with embarrassment. “Yeah. I mean, it’s the weekend. I need to do laundry.”

Porter let out a laugh deep from his belly. “You were serious about being a DC girl.” He put his hands on the soft folds of my belly, his thumbs making those slow, soft circles that he always did. Porter’s touch alone was enough to make me come.

“Yep. A DC girl.” I breathed out.

Porter moved his hands up my torso and removed my cropped sweatshirt over my head. Luckily, the tank-like bra matched the panties, with Wonder Woman crests right over the nipples. Porter pulled the covers back, and we both slid into bed. Warm and safe under the covers in just our underwear, we could hear the soft whirring of the central heat coming on. I looked at Porter and he moved me into the cradle of his arm. I felt his lips on my forehead, the familiar smell of his cologne all around me.