She shakes her head. “Wow. I had no idea you worked so much.” Finishing with the first shirt, she moves on to the second.
I watch her set the needle between her lips and wish I was that needle. She pulls it from her mouth and goes back to hemming the shirt. Her blonde hair falls across her face, stroking her pink cheeks as she tucks it back. And her blue eyes narrow in concentration as her delicate fingers carefully weave the thread through the shirt.
I watch her in amazement.
“What about you?” she asks, her voice bringing me back to reality. “If money wasn’t an issue, what would you do?”
“Honestly?” I hesitate. “I would go to culinary school and learn to cook.”
She looks up. “You like cooking?”
“I love it,” I say, pointing to the stack of cookbooks on the table across the room. “Remember I told you about our housekeeper, Marcella? Well growing up, she let me help her out in the kitchen, and she taught me all sorts of things about food and cooking. That’s when my love for all things culinary began, with Marcella.”
Kayla smiles. “It sounds like you really loved Marcella.”
I nod. “I did. She was great. My mother wasn’t really good with words or showing love and I think Marcella tried to make up for that, you know? She once told me that real love isn’t something you plan or earn, it’s something that just hits you—like a bolt of lightning—and changes you forever.” I smile to myself. “Marcella changed me forever, that’s for sure. She was never too busy or too impatient for me. Even when I made a mess in her kitchen, which I did a lot when I would experiment on different recipes, she would just sigh and shake her head and say, Mijo, you’re lucky I love you.” I pause because Kayla’s face keeps getting happier. “What?”
“That’s just…” She grins. “That’s really cute. And it’s great that you’re so passionate about cooking. I want to eat something you make.”
Happiness fills my chest and I suddenly want nothing more than to feed this girl. “Okay.” I grin. “Maybe if we find the money tomorrow I can whip up a hot meal for us in celebration.”
She smiles. “I’d like that.” Finishing with the last shirt, she puts her sewing supplies away and slowly yawns.
“I guess we should probably get to bed,” I say. “We have a long drive in the morning.” I look at my frameless bed and shame pricks under my skin. “Sorry we’re pretty much sleeping on the floor.”
“Are you kidding me? I’ll take crashing on the floor of a mansion over sleeping on a dirty motel bed any day.” She winks. “Even though your mattress has probably seen just as much action as the Quickie Stop one.”
I watch her carefully, wondering if the idea of me having sex with lots of women on my mattress—or just having lots of sex, in general—bothers her at all. But the teasing in her eyes looks genuine and unaffected.
Disappointment leaks through me and I try not to overthink why.
“Actually,” I say as we stand and I put my shirts away. “This particular mattress hasn’t seen any action at all.”
She scoffs. “Bullshit.”
I shake my head. “Swear to God. What I said yesterday, about women thinking my mattress was comfortable? That was bullshit. Although it is rather comfy. But since I’m not in the business of broadcasting my homelessness, I never bring women back here. So my mattress is a virgin.”
“Huh.” She looks at said mattress. “Well consider me honored.”
I smile.
We crawl onto my mattress and I turn the lights out, throwing us into darkness so complete I can’t even see my hand in front of my face as we try to get comfortable.
“Shit,” I mutter. “I forgot you like to sleep on your belly. Here, switch sides with me.”
I start to crawl over her just as she tries to sit up and we smash into each other, causing Kayla to tumble back. I lose my balance and fall on top of her, with our chests and hips locked together.
The smell of coconut wafts over me, sweet and hazy. As I sink against her soft, supple body, my dick starts to grow hard. I know I should get off of her, but the fit is so perfect I can’t seem to move.
She exhales and her hot breath feathers against my throat in the dark. Carefully balanced on my elbows, I silently command myself to climb off of her, but before I can move, she arches her back.
It’s a slight movement, barely palpable, but it tells me what she wants. I slowly brush my fingertips up her stomach, feeling her belly dip in as she sucks in a sharp breath, then trail them up to her face and cup her cheeks.
I’ve never been with a girl in complete darkness before and something about it is oddly intimate. I can’t see her. I can only feel her, which should make it less personal. But I can hear her breathing, and feel her heartbeat against my chest, and everything about it makes me want to be careful with her.
I lower my face until I can feel the heat of her exhales against my lips. She rolls her hips up so her body meets mine and I push against her even more, touching my lips to hers.
She kisses me back, softly. Just our lips brushing each other in the black. I pull back to breathe, surprised that my heart is beating so fast, and hear the faintest of protests. A tiny whimper sounds from the depths of her throat telling me she wants more, and that’s all the invitation I need.