I grab her by the hand as she passes, pulling her to a gentle stop and spinning her to face me. She’s already shaking her head, convinced she doesn’t have enough time for even a simple exchange, but I know better.
This may be about a scheduled appointment, but it’s also a convenient excuse to avoid what happened last night. To shelve any embarrassment and uncertainty right next to the insecurities that’ll allow them to fester. I can’t let that happen. I won’t.
“Remy, I’m late. I have to get Izzy and get to Midtown and—”
I pull her hand with a jerk, forcing her body into mine on a fall. She gasps at the unexpected change of direction, and I don’t waste an opportunity with her open mouth. Soft and slow and sweet, I press my lips to hers, winding my tongue around the tip of hers and sinking my hands into the soft tresses of her hair. She feels so fucking good, so fucking memorable, I really have to challenge my self-control.
You cannot take her back to bed right now, you cannot take her back to bed right now.
I can feel her eyelashes flutter against mine in a soft whisper of surrender, and I deepen the kiss to ensure the enemy of doubt falls completely.
Her hands clasp at the flesh at my hips, the tips of her fingernails biting deliciously.
When I eventually pull away, her eyes are much, much lazier, and her heart is cracked back open. I slide right inside as quickly as I can.
“I’ll get Izzy from Winnie. You go to your appointment, do what you have to do, and we’ll meet up again when you’re done for the day.”
“What? No? Surely you have something to do? You know, for yourself, I mean.”
“It’s Saturday, babe. Markets are closed.” I smile and shake my head. “And there’s nothing better than spending the day with Iz while you get your shit done.”
She wants to give in, but she can’t do it just yet. “Are you sure?”
I, on the other hand, have no problem helping her get there. I place a smacking kiss to her lips. “Positive.”
“Okay…but only, if you’re, like, sure, sure,” she says then, a loaded meaning slithering under the innocent surface.
“I’m sure,” I affirm, hoping she can feel the unspoken words of my answer too.
I’ve made a lot of questionable decisions in my forty-four years on this earth, but making love to Maria last night and, even more than that, inserting myself into her and Izzy’s lives like I have sure as fuck isn’t one of them.
Hell, call me a selfish bastard, but I still don’t even regret waking her up at three a.m. because I couldn’t not be inside her again.
“Let me know when you’re done, and I’ll meet you, okay?”
“I have a few showings after this one.”
“No problem. Just let me know when you’re done, Ri. No rush. No big deal. Izzy and I will be fine.”
She nods and then, finally, hesitantly, leans forward to press her lips to mine. “Thank you. I’ll call you as soon as I’m done. Oh! And let me know if Winnie had any trouble with Izzy last night.”
“You got it.” I smile at Maria, holding open the front door as she rushes away, and watch her as she goes.
It’s not a bad view. Her ass is perfect, and her hair shines even in the dim hallway light.
But I’m starting to realize the view that is her coming toward me is a fuck of a lot better.
Remy
The air is warm and inviting this morning as I make my way from the subway station to my sister’s brownstone two blocks away. I can feel the flicker of the sun’s rays filtering through the still leafy trees along the sidewalk, and I turn my face up into them at every opening I get. The leaves are turning now and will be dropping soon, but for just a sliver of a moment, New York is blended with the perfect mix of summer and fall.
“Just can’t get enough,” I mumble to myself, swaying side to side to the Depeche Mode song playing in my ears.
I’m a walking cliché of bouncy steps and singing to myself, and I’m not even ashamed of it. Last night with Maria was incredible.
It was familiar and reminiscent of our days together as teenagers, but so far exceeding anything we even dreamed of back then that I’m not even sure I knew it existed.
When I round the corner on my sister’s block to the sight of Wes closing the front door behind himself and bleeping the locks on his car at the curb, I pull my earbuds from my ears and call out loudly.
“Yo, Lancaster!”
His head jerks up at the sound of my voice, and then his gaze finds its way to the source. I smile hugely, and he does the same in return, his hand going to his chest and crisscrossing over it. “What have you got there, cowboy? An empty baby carrier?”