“So you really meant all those things you said?” She sounded surprised.
“Like I told you, I always mean what I say, Nat. Especially where you’re concerned.” I wondered which things in particular had her curious, but didn’t ask. “Now my problem is that you’ve ruined blowjobs for me forever because nothing will ever compare.”
“Oh, right.” She shook her head and sighed. “Something tells me you’ll be just fine, Miles Haas. And considering you just explained exactly what you like in a blowjob to any woman who reads your stuff, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of qualified applicants to replace me.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’ll always be my favorite.” I tugged a few strands of her hair, happy at the sweetly surprised expression on her face.
For about five seconds.
Because I realized it was true—no matter what happened, no matter how many hot girls lined up to blow me, I’d forever compare them unfavorably to her. And what about sex? Had she ruined that for me too?
Quickly I tried to think of another girl I’d rather go to bed with than Natalie, another * I’d rather taste, another body I’d rather be inside. And I couldn’t.
A sweat broke out on the back of my neck.
Because I realized I’d never been able to think of another girl I’d choose over Natalie. Ever.
And now that it had happened, I never would.
What the fuck was I going to do about that?
For one crazy moment, I wished we weren’t so good together. I wished the sex was average, the chemistry lackluster, the feeling I got when I came inside her something less than fucking transcendent.
For an even crazier moment, I thought about promising her everything and all of me if only she’d say she wanted it.
Then I shook it off.
That was fucked up.
? ? ?
We stopped once for lunch and once for more coffee and gas, and arrived in Detroit around four o’clock that afternoon. Natalie wanted to see my apartment before we did anything, so I parked in the garage adjacent to the building and took her up to the twenty-third floor. I unlocked the door and let her in first.
“Wow,” she breathed, setting her bags down. “This is beautiful.”
“Thanks.” I set my keys on a small table against the wall and kicked the door shut. “The guy who rents it to me said it was built in the twenties but abandoned for years before they renovated.”
“That’s amazing.” She walked over to the huge floor-to-ceiling windows and looked out. “I love the view.”
“Cool, isn’t it? The guy asked me if I wanted shades on those windows and I said no way.”
She turned around and took in the furniture, wood floors, and two-story ceiling before wandering over to the kitchen. “Holy shit,” she said, running her hand over the shiny granite counter. “This is gorgeous.”
“Yeah, he’s a chef, so this kitchen is totally decked out.” I went to the huge stainless fridge and took out two beers, taking the caps off before handing one to Natalie. “Actually he owns a restaurant called The Burger Bar in Corktown that I love. Maybe I’ll take you there for dinner.”
“Why’d he move out?” she asked, her wide eyes taking in the dark wood cabinets and stone tile floor.
“He got married and bought a house in Indian Village.”
“Oh.” She took a sip of her beer and meandered into the pantry. “What the hell, Miles? You have, like, nothing in here.”
“I’ve got the basics.” I leaned back against the counter and tipped up the bottle.
“What basics? Cap’n Crunch, Doritos, and Twinkies? Oh wait, I do see a bag of flour in here.”
“Yeah, I think he left that.”
“Oh my God.” She came out, shaking her head. “Let’s go to the grocery store while I’m here. I’ll help you fill up your pantry and show you some easy things to make.” She put her hand on the fridge handle and looked at me. “Do I even want to open this? Is six months’ worth of moldy takeout food going to attack me?”
“It might.”
She opened it up and sighed. “No mold. But what do you live on? Beer and cereal?”
I shrugged. “I could probably live on that.”
She shut the fridge and stuck a hand on her hip, looking adorably concerned for me. I let myself fantasize for a moment that she lived here too, that we shared things like beer and Twinkies, that she’d cook for me and I’d…well, I’d think of something to do for her. There must be something I had to offer.
Your dick! That’s what you have to offer, asshole. So stop with the stupid silly shit and go have sex.
“That diet cannot be healthy.” She threw a hand up in exasperation. “How are you in such good shape? It’s so annoying!”
Smiling, I set my beer down and tugged her toward me by the hem of her shirt, setting her hips against mine. “How about cinnamon buns? Are those healthy?”
“No.”
I buried my face in her neck, kissing her hungrily, licking her throat. “But they taste so good.”