His lips moved against my neck as he spoke slowly, “Maybe I should kiss you here? On your sweet neck?”
He moved unhurriedly to my jaw, still not kissing really, but touching me nonetheless, and I thought I was going to combust. The sensation of him in my space, in my shed. The smell of his clean shirt. How his voice deepened and vibrated against my skin.
“Or your jaw here? But that’s so close to your pretty lips. It’s too tempting.”
I think I whimpered, or whined, or groaned. I can’t be sure. I’d never heard that sound come from me. I’m not sure my ears were even working correctly, because the things he was saying sounded like some sort of script from a movie. I didn’t know how to process any of it and I sure as hell didn’t know how to react.
He must have thought I was mentally deficient, and he wouldn’t have been too wrong at the moment.
Then his nearness left and my eyes blinked open to find him looking into me. Like all the way into me.
“I’ll figure out your name, O’Fallon. Then I’m going to kiss your pretty little face off. So be ready for it.” After he spoke, he pressed his lips against my forehead and lifted my chin so that our eyes met again.
His pupils were dilated, only a fraction of that watery blue visible.
“I’ll be here at six tomorrow. Good night,” he said, and then he quickly kissed the top of my head and left.
I was frozen to my seat.
Any words I may have tried to say wedged in my throat.
I’d never been an emotional person. I’d always prided myself on handling things with a level head.
Vaughn had, in a few short weeks, changed all that. I was feeling things, emotional things. Massive, unfamiliar things.
I sat out there by myself for a while longer and thought.
I wasn’t sure if he’d still be interested in me after he got to know me better. I knew I wasn’t likely going to change much, but maybe changing a little wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
For the first time, I wanted to impress a man. Not because I wanted his business, or simply to warm my bed, but I wanted a man to desire me, and even if I hated to admit it, I wanted to be treated like I was special. Like I was beautiful.
And, there in that garage, he’d done just that.
I felt, more than anything, that he desired me—all of me—and I craved more of it.
I could have just called. Really, all I wanted to know was what she wanted for dinner.
Who was I kidding?
I wanted to see her. After only knowing her for a few short weeks, I missed her.
I was with Rachelle for almost two years and I didn’t miss her, at least not like I did O’Fallon, and she was just down the street.
But you know what?
Life is short.
Did I feel strange starting a relationship so soon after Rachelle, moving, and everything that happened? Yes.
But, on the other hand, I didn’t.
I wanted O’Fallon.
I wanted to touch her.
I wanted her to touch me.
I wanted to kiss her and tell her how beautiful I thought she was, and that the time we spent together was never enough.
Something told me she was just as surprised by it as I was. From what she’d told me, she had never been in a relationship. At least not like the one I wanted with her.
I had to figure out her name. Between the look on her face each time we’d almost kissed and the way she reacted to me, it was all I thought about.
I could ask someone in town what her name was, but that would be cheating. Like going behind her back. If she wanted me to know, she’d tell me. I think she liked the game. And, in a way, I did, too.
It was a paradox. I wanted to know, but only on our terms.
As I drove back to my house, after showing up in her barn that night, I imagined what it would be like when it finally happened.
Two things were possible.
One. It would be just as good, if not better, than I imagined.
Two. It was possible that when we kissed she wouldn’t feel it like I did.
Something happens to your ego when a woman you love, or think you love, leaves you for someone else. Someone with whom she had already started a relationship with.
It made me think about how she must have compared us. And, the fact was, she hadn’t chosen me. There was a little voice inside my head that hinted maybe I wasn’t good enough. Maybe I didn’t make her happy enough. Maybe I pushed too hard, or came on too strong.
Even though Rachelle said none of those things were the case and that it just happened, a man’s head would play tricks on him. What if these feelings I was having for O’Fallon were just my way of regaining some of the pride I lost?
I was uncertain. Or maybe I was just nervous. All of this was so different. Thrilling and fun. Learning about her and telling her about myself was gratifying. I didn’t feel like there was anything I couldn’t tell her.
She was amusing and spirited. Outgoing and one of the most authentic women—hell, people—I’d ever had the pleasure of meeting.
Sometimes when you meet people you wonder: how are they going to change my life?