CHAPTER 62
Sierra climbs off of me too soon. I want her body wrapped around mine until our sweat chills. I want to stay buried in her until my dick begins to soften. Or until we’re ready to go another round.
But this can’t be a comfortable position for her, as evidenced by the way she hits her head on the roof of the car and tumbles over the center console.
Sierra is barely seated, with her panties pulled back in place to hide her perfect pussy, when she drops back down. She licks my dick clean noisily, moaning and slurping like she’s never tasted anything as good as the combination of our juices. She keeps going until there’s nothing left, and I’m begging her to give my cock a break.
She gives me a messy grin that forces me to pull myself up and steal an even messier kiss. Sierra pushes me away with a giggle that steals my heart all over again. We pull on our pants in easy silence. The memories of the last time we were together still linger, but they no longer feel like a shoe waiting to drop.
While she fixes her hair and checks her face in the mirror, I get out of the car and hurry around to her door.
“You going to leave me hanging, rookie?”
“Never.” She grins and hops out of the car, but there’s something more serious, something almost reverential, a promise in that flippant answer.
The first rays of sunlight add color to the morning sky. I climb onto the hood of my car and pull her up to sit between my legs.
“Are you cold?”
She pulls my arms tighter around her. “Not anymore.”
I squeeze her even tighter. Her laughter floats in the heavy air, and loose fog curls its damp tendrils around us. I rest my chin on her shoulder, and her flyaway hairs–as out of control from the humidity out here as the sex air inside the car–tickle my cheek.
Sierra begins to hum. I let my eyes drift shut and sway our bodies to the music. It takes me a few minutes to realize she isn’t humming her usual Latin pop or nostalgic pop punk. It takes me a minute or so longer to place the song through her endearing off-key rendition.
“Since when do you hum classical music, rookie?”
“Since I missed the fuck out of you this past month,” she says. “I know how ridiculous it sounds, but I tried anything I could think of to feel closer to you even when I was telling myself that I needed to forget what we could be. I even spent a couple of our off days getting really into learning how to make lumpia and dumplings from scratch.”
“Well, I can’t wait to try your dumplings.”
“I think you just did.” She manages to maintain her deadpan expression, but when I cover my face with one palm, she breaks down into the sort of giggling fit that only happens when half-delirious from lack of sleep. “In all seriousness, I don’t know if I want you to ever see the monstrosities I made. How is something that looks so simple, so deceptively difficult to do?”
“My mom would probably say something wise that has everything and nothing to do with actual dumplings,” I say.
“I could see that.” Sierra kisses my cheek again. “What do you think she would say?”
“Hmm. Maybe something like, it’s the simple things in life that are most worth doing right.”
Sierra twists until she can cup my cheek in one hand and rest the other palm over my heart. She’s close enough to kiss, but neither of us moves. Or speaks. Or breathes.
“That is very wise,” she finally says. “Do you believe that?”
“I believe in you.” I say. “And I believe in us.”
“Me too,” she whispers.
My heart stops. I almost take the easy way out. Her lips are so close, so kissable, and that has always come easily between us.
I think of what she said earlier, and I force myself to leap.
“I love you, Sierra.”
I’m not sure how she manages to climb into my lap on the hood. But then her lips are an inch away from mine, the sunrise is bright behind her back, she says four little words that turn my world upside down, and nothing else matters.
“I love you, too.”