13.
Hillary
W e sleep in her bed, in the small twin-size that’s covered with a faded purple quilt. I make a mental note to buy her a new one.
She deserves a new one.
When I wake, I stand, stretching, and shuffle over to the window.
“Snow,” I say.
“What?”
I turn. Emily is stretching out in her bed. She’s gloriously naked, pretty as hell, and looks deliciously used.
“Snow,” I say. “It’s snowing.”
“What?”
She jumps up, hurries over. Emily presses her hands to the glass, too.
“What the hell?”
“I know. I didn’t expect it, either.”
“What are we going to do?”
“There’s nothing to do,” I say. “My laptop is at my place.”
“I left mine at the office,” she says.
“Sounds like a snow day to me,” I say.
“Can you do that?”
“I’ll make some calls,” I say. “But neither one of us can work from our phones. We aren’t going to have much of a choice.”
Emily sighs. “Um, I’ll make tea,” she says. She leaves the bedroom still naked. I watch as her ass wiggles and disappears out the door.
Fuck.
Me.
Silly.
I don’t even think she knows how damn pretty she is, how wonderful.
I don’t think she knows, even now, how much I really do want her.
I make a few phone calls, and once I’m sure everything is as settled as it can be, I pull up the local news on my phone. We’d been warned about the possibility of snow, but I haven’t been paying much attention to anything.
Honestly, I’ve been a bit distracted.
“Everything go okay?” Emily asks, reappearing.
“Yes.”
“I made tea.”
“I’d love some,” I say.
She jerks her head back toward the kitchen, but I hold my arms out toward her.
“Come,” I say.
And just like that, she’s in my arms again.
Just like that, I’m holding her.
Just like that, I know that no matter what comes next, Emily and I are going to have something really, really fucking cool between us.
Perhaps I shouldn’t like her as much as I do. Maybe I shouldn’t care, shouldn’t desire.
I do, though.
“You were so great last night,” I say.
“You were great,” she says.
“I want to do it again.”
“Same.”
“With you,” I say.
“I got that bit.” Emily laughs, and I pull her closer.
“I shouldn’t have held back,” I admit.
“What?”
“With you. I shouldn’t have held back.”
“You don’t have to keep clarifying who,” she says. “I know we’re talking about us.”
“I’m just making sure. You know, communication.” Because I’ve failed at that in the past. I’ve screwed up. I’ve made mistakes.
We all have, haven’t we?
“I shouldn’t have waited so long,” I say.
“Hillary, I know,” she says. “It’s okay.”
“I need you,” I say. I stroke her cheek, kiss her lips, and then pull back. “I like the way I feel when I’m with you.”
“I like it, too,” she says.
And then she kisses me again.
And again.
And again.