Chapter 15
15
M ACKENZIE
What a night.
I still can’t shake off that feeling.
It was so unexpected, dirty, and ridiculously good.
A beautiful gift.
Smiling, I arrange a bunch of fresh snapdragons in a tall vase, my eyes going to the window from time to time as my fingers brush over the colorful flowers.
I said I wouldn’t go shopping before Christmas––I had no reason to––but I changed my mind.
I slept like a baby after getting home last night.
My body thanked me, warm and fed from the pleasure I’d gotten from him.
I thought things would get quickly awkward once my orgasm had worn off, and we’d look at each other like two strangers stuck with each other.
I thought he’d be mad that I’d tasted relief while he hadn’t.
I didn’t think I'd feel connected to him just because he’d gotten me off. Comfortable with him.
He was all right with me indulging in the aftermath of my off the charts orgasm.
He was okay that I was disheveled with my legs still open.
He was so okay that when my legs stopped trembling, he lowered his head and placed a kiss on my clit like it was the most precious thing in the world.
The only part that didn’t work for us was that we couldn’t spend more time together.
His phone rang, and I knew from his expression that the news wasn’t great.
He was cryptic with the man at the other end of the line and said almost nothing to him. Only nodded and grumped and tossed an ‘okay’ from time to time before ending their conversation.
Holding his hand on my pussy, he tapped the screen with his finger and slid his phone into his pocket.
His touch was warm, and I felt a smidgen of pleasure building up again.
When he shifted his eyes to me, I knew it was time to go back, so without the slightest warning, I pushed upright and pulled at my pants to cover the apex of my thighs.
He kept his warm touch between my legs, though, as he leaned to me and whispered in my ear. “Thank you, baby.”
I turned to stone.
And he smiled against my cheek as he tickled me with his lips.I thought we were done, although all I wanted was a repeat.
I know how these things work.
Once I get a taste of him, it only takes a few fleeting moments to enjoy that deep satisfaction that doesn’t make me want to climb on him again before it does.
I knew how conflicted he was, so when he wrapped his arm around my neck, locked me in, and crashed his mouth onto mine while opening my lips forcefully and connecting with me at a profound, primal sexual level, I thought I’d pass out in his arms.
We kissed like two savages as if we were telling each other we wouldn’t stop until he was buried deep inside me, and I took all the force brewing in him and basked in it like it was a miracle of life.
When I slid my hands to his chest and feverishly sought the feel of his skin against my touch, he broke the kiss and wagged his finger at me, grinning.
‘We won’t be doing this now,’ he reminded me, and I smiled, choking on my flared-up need to have him.
‘We need to go,’ he then said, turning the ignition on, and minutes later, he dropped me off in front of my building.
There was no goodbye kiss, only a wolfish smirk on his lips and me acting silly, unable to take my eyes off him.
When he steered his car away, my street was quieter and more deserted than ever.
I tipped my gaze up and stared at my building.
The lights were faint in my neighbor’s apartment, while my windows were dark like almost every other window in the building.
I was happy.
And I was bereft.
And in the morning, I woke up hopeful for no good reason.We hadn’t made any plans to meet again.
Yet it felt like he hadn’t been gone at all.
It still feels like he is here with me, and I wonder if I’m the only one experiencing this. If his day is just another day with no memory of me at all.
My phone buzzes on the kitchen counter, and I walk there quickly.
Kayla’s name flashes across the screen, bringing a smile to my face.
“Hey, there,” I say in an unusually good mood the moment I accept her video call.
She looks at me with intrigued eyes.
“Have you gotten laid or something?” she asks without greeting me, with an eyebrow lifted.
My cheeks burn like a beach in the Caribbean.
“Hmm…”
I shift my eyes away to avoid her scrutiny.
“Kenzie?”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
I place my phone down, and she stares at the ceiling while I move to the refrigerator.
“Can I eat lunch while talking to you?” I shout over my shoulder, digging for food in the fridge.
“Of course you can. So you did…” she says, chuckling. “Who is it?”
“I’ll tell you. Just give me a second.”
A few moments pass while I reheat some leftovers––it’s mostly a broccoli, cheese, and rice casserole––and think about what to say to her.
I can’t divulge his identity.
I don’t need his devilish eyes on me to know that I need to heed his warning.As much as I don’t need him to put it into words that I’m not supposed to talk about him.
Even if I knew nothing about him––and I don’t know much about him––I’d still be cautious.
There are so many reasons why I don’t want to talk about him. And just as many reasons why I do want to talk about him.
For one, I need to confess.
I have to tell someone how good it felt to be with him.
How much pleasure he has given me and how much comfort I have felt by entrusting myself to him.
The microwave dings before I pull my food out, transfer it to a plate, grab a fork and a soda from the refrigerator, and return to the table.
“I thought you walked out of the building,” she jokes.
“Shut up.”
I laugh, having a hard time holding her gaze.
Once my mouth is full, I chew on the food and talk.
“He’s, um… I don’t know much about him. He was, uh… I think he is my neighbor.”
“Uh… You think? You don’t know? Does he live in your building?”
I gesture with my fork, having a hard time swallowing.
“No. He lives in a building down the street. Mmm… This food is good,” I say to distract her.
“How did you two meet?”
I take another bite.
“Um… We’re buying our morning coffee at the same deli.”
“Are you buying coffee at the deli?”
Uh… She’s right. I used to do that when I had a job.
“I started to do that again. He gets his there too.”
“Seriously?”
I nod.
“Is he cute?”
“Very cute.”
“Do you have a picture of him?”
I gesture at her again, almost choking on my food.
“Nope. No picture.”
“No online pictures? Nothing?”
“Nothing. You can’t find anything about him online.”
“Did you look him up?”
I munch on my food again.
“Why would I look him up?” I ask around my food.
“I don’t know. It’s wise to do that. You learn stuff about them. How do you know there’s nothing online if you haven’t looked him up?”
I laugh.
“He has no online presence,” I say.
“Do you at least have his full name?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Oh, okay. Did he tell you he wasn't active online?”
“Can you please drop it?” I say.”He’s not online. We never talked about this. It never came up in our conversation.”
My irritation is hard to miss.
“I didn’t want to upset you.”
I suck in a long breath, trying to calm my nerves.
“You’re not upsetting me.”
The truth is, I don’t have enough information about Callan to look him up.
And even if I had, I’d still not do it.
Am I a coward for not doing that?
Probably.
But not everybody is online. I’m not. And aside from an old page she rarely updates, Kayla’s not active online either.
She stays quiet while I finish my food.
“Listen…” I say before sipping my drink. “Things unfolded quickly, so there was no time to think about anything else. We started to chat, and I wanted to go to the park last night. He offered to take me there. And no, I didn’t get laid. We were only kissing. I’m not even sure whether we’ll see each other again.”
And that’s true.
I have no idea if I’ll see him again. We haven’t talked about it. He knows where I live. And I know where that woman lives.
But I don’t know what she is to him.
As much as I don’t know how he ended it with the woman upstairs and why he got in hot water with her buddies.
Thinking more about the issue, I understand Kayla’s concerns. I’d be concerned, too.
“If we happen to meet again, I’ll learn more about him. If not, it was a good experience. He made me feel good.”
“That’s the most important thing,” she says, relieved that we have overcome the weird moment that created friction between us.
We continue our conversation and say goodbye to each other a few moments later before I look out the window––it’s snowing again––and realize that I’m tired and a nap would be in order.
I’ll probably spend a quiet evening at home. Maybe I’ll watch a movie.Or shop for clothes online.
Every year, I buy myself a Christmas gift.It doesn’t have to be expensive.
It just needs to be beautifully wrapped and remind me to take care of myself.
The idea was in the back of my mind last night, but it got lost in the twists of the story that eventually put Callan and me in his car.
I’ll probably skip the ‘buying a Christmas gift for myself this year,’ especially since I got one from Callan.
With that thought, I peel my eyes away from the snowy street and head straight to the bedroom.