Forgoing pleasantries, I dove right into my current situation, highlighting the main points. My ramble lasted a good three minutes, only pausing to take a quick breath between run-on sentences.
“So, what you’re telling me is that your date with Kline started off great, until you had an allergic reaction and your face ballooned up like a blimp? And then you chugged a bottle of Benadryl, got naked in his bed, and attempted to hand him your lady flower, but you guys just ended up eating pizza instead?”
“It sounds even worse when you repeat it back to me,” I whined.
“Where are you right now?”
“I’m in his apartment, standing outside on the terrace so he can’t hear me freaking the fuck out.”
“And you stayed at his place last night?”
“Yeah, I woke up in his bed this morning.”
“Did he try to usher your ass out of his bed the second you woke up?”
I shook my head. She didn’t respond.
“See, the way phone conversations work, is that you actually have to say the words out loud.”
“You’re such a pain in the ass,” I retorted. “And no, he didn’t try to push me out of bed and send me packing. He was actually pretty sweet.”
“I’m not sure what the problem is, then.”
“Are you serious?” I shouted. “I’m mortified, Cass! I pretty much made a fool out of myself last night! I don’t even—”
“Hey,” she interrupted my rant.
“What?” I snapped back.
“Take a breath and think this over,” she coaxed, her voice cool and calm. “Sure, things didn’t go as planned, but…you’re still at his apartment. He’s not acting weird. He didn’t try to shove you out the door. Right?”
I nodded.
“I’m assuming you’re nodding your head, so I shall continue,” she said, amusement highlighting her voice. “You have two options here, Georgie. You can either grab your shit and make a beeline for the door and continue to stew in your mortification back at our apartment. Or you can get some tits and go in there and demand a re-do.”
“A re-do?”
“Demand you finish that amazing kiss. Or, you know, turn that sexy lip-lock into something else. Something more orally challenging.”
I ran through my options. I could either let self-doubt rule my brain or walk back into his apartment and show him what a confident, self-assured woman looks like when she’s ready to take what she wants.
“You’re right,” I agreed, steadfast in my decision. “Embarrassment can go fuck itself. It’s time for a re-do.”
“That’s my girl.”
“I love you, Casshead.”
“Love you too,” she responded, a smile in her voice. “Now, stop wasting time and go in there and kiss the hell out of Big-dicked Brooks.”
“Okay, that’s my cue to end this call,” I teased. “Have fun snapping pics of muscly men.”
“Oh, the fun has already been had, my dear. I plan on having even more fun tonight, without a lens in front of my face.”
I smiled, my nerves finally at ease. “I miss your crazy ass.”
“Miss you too, sweet cheeks. Call me later and let me know how things went.”
“You got it.”
“But make sure it’s tomorrow because I’m about to be balls deep in my best impression of a rodeo queen. The Italian Stallion—”
“I’m hanging up now!”
Her laugh was the last thing I heard as I tapped end on the call.
Turning for the door, I stopped mid-step, my eyes meeting my reflection in the glass panes. I did a quick once-over, taking inventory of my current state. My hair was a little askew, pulled up in a messy bun. My legs peeked out from beneath Kline’s Harvard cotton tee. My ass was covered by a pair of white cotton boy shorts. It wasn’t my sexiest of days, but I didn’t look awful. And surprisingly, my lips had gone back to their normal size.
I sniffed the collar of his t-shirt, and despite the clean scent, remnants of his cologne managed to linger on the freshly laundered material. God, he really did smell good. Kline just might have been my very own aphrodisiac.
I wanted him. And I was hell-bent on taking what I wanted.
Walking through the doors, I left any inkling of self-doubt on the terrace, finding him shirtless, standing at the sink of his master bathroom. His perfect ass was clad in boxer briefs and nothing else, wide shoulders on display, muscles stretching as he brushed his teeth. His biceps flexed as he finished up, turning off the sink.
His body was perfect. Defined with just enough bulk. Smooth skin sweetened the deal, leading from his muscular shoulders to his defined pectorals. I wanted to trace the lines with my tongue. He didn’t shave or wax his chest like guys on magazine covers. No, Kline Brooks was a man. A beautiful, sexy man with a natural smattering of dark hair on his chest. His abdomen was defined with ridges and hard lines that led down into a glorious V, and a soft, just barely noticeable trail of hair paved a path from his belly button to territory I’d have had to remove his boxer briefs to see.
I wanted to lick that happy trail, spend some time there, make a fucking day out of it.
My body was getting way too excited over the possibilities.
Cool it, Georgia. Slow your horny roll.