“That’s what you’re going to ask me while I’m sitting on your lap?”
“Yeah,” I answer as my hands fall to her thighs. “I have all of my everyday conversations like this. You should see the fistfights I get into with my brothers over who gets to be the bottom and who gets to be the top.”
She lets out a sultry laugh while she draws circles on my chest this time. “Oh, what an image that has formed in my head.”
“We find if we sit on each other’s laps, we can focus on the conversation and block out distractions. I’ve had hour-long conversations on JP’s lap where we’ve brainstormed over our next business venture. If it wasn’t for the obvious HR violation, we would have everyone sit on each other’s laps.”
“You know, maybe you’re onto something. My marketing brain is thinking that you could form some sort of device that prevents pelvis-to-pelvis contact but allows the same position. Oh, and you can add some horse blinders to really keep out the distraction.”
“Wow, Birdy. Wow. That’s positively genius.”
She brushes off her shoulder. “Thank you, but the idea goes to you. I’m just the dream maker.”
“Is that what you call yourself at work?”
“When I strike it big with a huge idea, of course. I quietly print out a certificate of completion with the name dream maker on it. I have a whole folder of them. In my desk drawer.”
“A whole folder would imply that you’re very good at being a dream maker.”
“I am.”
We spend the next hour or so talking about anything and everything, her sitting on my lap, me holding her thighs and not making a move at all. Not one single move.
She tells me about how she loves to go surfing—something I’ve never done in my life—how she is a huge fan of all types of cereal—the more sugar, the better—and how she once had a dog with three legs and said he was the best dog she ever had.
I shared with her my desire to own every Star Wars bobblehead ever made, how I believe the original bromance of our time is C3PO and R2D2—and she proceeded to tell me she’s only watched the most recent episodes and how she doesn’t get the whole Kylo and Rey fetish. I nearly balked with disappointment.
“Are you thirsty or anything?” Birdy asks.
“Nah, I’m good. I should probably get going, though, because I’m sure you need to wake up early tomorrow.” I rub my hands over her thighs.
“I do happen to have a five thirty wake-up call.”
“Yeah, I have a meeting with Hux tomorrow at his place.”
“Okay, well . . .” Her fingers dance along my shirt. “I guess I should walk you to the door.” She gets off my lap and then holds out her hand. I take it, and we walk over to her front door together. I slip on my shoes, and when I’m done, I stand tall and find her leaning against the wall right next to the door, her hands behind her back. “Thank you for coming over.”
“Yeah, I had a nice time, even though you’re not a fan of the Kylo Ren and Rey love affair.”
“I just can’t get on board,” she says, holding steady. “Sorry. Doesn’t work for me.”
“Such a disappointment,” I teasingly reply and then take a step forward. I hook my finger under her chin, close the space between us one more time, and hover right above her lips, waiting for her.
She closes the rest of the distance between us and smooths her hand up my chest while her mouth opens, encouraging mine as well. I drop my free hand to the wall next to her head, propping myself up, and deepen the kiss, letting my tongue explore now.
Her hands float up to my cheeks, where she cups them. Her tongue matches my strokes, and for the first time in a few months, I make out right there in the entryway of a girl’s apartment.
I revel in the feel of her soft lips.
I sink into the grasp she has on my cheeks.
And when she gasps for a touch of air, I commit it to memory.
I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be intimate with a woman, and this feels good.
When I pull away, her lashes lift as her eyes connect with mine. I smile down at her and say, “Better?”
“Much.” She runs her tongue along her lips. “So much better.”
“Good.” I lean down and press one more kiss to her lips before pulling away. “I’ll see you Saturday for that hike.”
“Yes, Saturday,” she replies as I open the door to her apartment and head out. “Night, Breaker.”
“Night, Birdy,” I say just before I take off down the hall.
“Morning, Breaker,” Lottie says as she answers the door to her house. “How are you?”
“Good,” I say. “What about yourself?” She isn’t dressed for the day yet, still in a robe with her hair up in a bun.
“Doing okay.” Huxley appears just then and loops his arm around her waist. He presses a kiss to the side of her head and says, “Can I get you anything?”
She shakes her head and pats his hand. “I’m good.” And then she walks toward the kitchen, Huxley’s eyes watching her every step.
“What does it feel like?” I ask him.
When he turns toward me, he asks, “What does what feel like?”
“To be that in love. You’re so protective, possessive, infatuated. I don’t think I’ve ever been like that with someone.”
“Of course you have,” he says. “You’re that way with Lia.”
“Lia and I aren’t romantically involved.”
“You might not be, but you know how you get when Brian’s mom picks on her, that instinctual feeling like you will do fucking anything to make sure no one hurts your girl? That’s the feeling. That deep-seated feeling that never goes away.”
I slowly nod my head. “I get that feeling with Lia, but not on a romantic level, on a best friend level.”
“Well, when you finally fall in love with someone, that feeling you have with Lia will transfer over. Why do you ask?” He heads toward his office, and I follow him.
“I’ve sort of gone out with this girl the last few days, and she’s pretty awesome. Beautiful and smart. Great sense of humor. We don’t have much in common, but she’s sweet, quick-witted, and interesting. I went to her place last night, and we talked a lot, she even sat on my lap for a while, but I didn’t have this overwhelming need to touch her. I kept my hands on her legs because I felt like that was the right thing to do, and when I kissed her good night, I really fucking liked it, but I don’t know, I don’t think I felt anything with her.”
“Was she a bad kisser?” Huxley asks as he takes a seat at his desk. I take a seat at the one across from him.
“No, a really good kisser actually.” I heave a heavy sigh and lean forward, hands clasped. “I don’t know, man. I think I’m going through some shit, and I don’t know how to process it. I think this lawsuit and the wedding are fucking with my head.”
“Do you want to like this girl?” Huxley asks.
“I don’t want to be left behind. Alone. Everyone I know is either married, getting married, or in a relationship. I’m just over in my lonely apartment playing fucking Tetris on my computer.”