Chapter 13 #2
“I . . . I love it from behind,” she blurts before taking off up the hill.
She sprints this time, as hard as she can, and I hold back a step to watch Courtney’s ass flex as she pushes herself up the hill.
Fuck, it’s gorgeous, just like the rest of her.
We cross the finish line one last time, and Courtney almost collapses because she’s worked so hard.
I reach out, grabbing her before she can fall to the dirty trail. I don’t mean to, but my left hand finds her breast naturally, her heart hammering under my palm and the pebble of her nipple hardening automatically at my touch.
“S–sorry,” I gasp, but Courtney leans into my hands, still catching her breath. She’s half bent over, and if this were a different place, a different time, I know I could take her just like this, her ass pressed against my crotch and one hand cupping a perfect breast while I hold her waist.
Later.
Later, when I can jack off in the shower again and remember this moment with a different outcome.
Courtney recovers, but it still feels like she stands up slowly, not wanting to break our touch. “Thanks . . . I’d hate to have broken my face.”
She spins in my arms, facing me with that perfect face that’s looking at me with a little shock and an uncertain smile as if she’s not sure what comes next either.
Should I kiss her again? Should I pick her up, have her wrap those legs around my waist? Should I spin her back around and pull those shorts down and bury my face in her pussy so I can finally know what she tastes like?
Rationality wars against my baser needs but eventually wins.
“Do you really think we need to know favorite positions?” I ask, my voice husky.
“You can never be too prepared,” she says, her eyes sparkling. Sexier words have never been spoken. To me, at least.
“We should go down.”
She smirks.
“No, I mean . . . are you ready?”
It blossoms into a full-blown grin.
“The hill.”
She lets me off the hook, patting my chest playfully. “C’mon, Kaede. I’m hungry, and last one down buys lunch.”
Instead of a walk down, she takes off one last time, leaving me chasing her because there is no way in hell I’m going to pass her and give up this view of her ass and the sound of her joyous laughter coming back at me on the wind.
We get back to the start line and collapse to the grass as I congratulate Court. “Way to go, Andrews.” I hold a hand up in a lazy high-five, not expecting her to actually hit my palm back. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“What?” she squeals.
A spray of water douses me, and I sputter, blinking the droplets from my eyes. “What the fuck?”
She does it again and I return fire. “What was that for?” I yell, getting to my feet and chasing her around the small clearing.
“You set me up!” she yells, grinning as she accuses me.
I squeeze my bottle again, sending a wide spray of water her way. “Would you have rather I told you that you were gonna puke?” I shift my feet, dancing my way closer to her without scaring her off. “I told you that you’d be fine, and you are.”
I thought I was hunting her, getting within dousing range, but she’s the siren drawing me to her rocky shores to annihilate me. Apparently having drunk only a bit of her water, she unleashes a torrent of nearly twenty-four ounces right over my head. “Gotcha!”
Already defeated, I give up on fighting the water and instead run into the line of fire to grab her around the waist. I tackle her to the ground, spinning in midair to take the hit as we touch down. “Gotcha back!” She’s straddling me again, her knees on the soft grass and her smile bright.
Still squeezing her bottle for dear life, she’s trying to get blood from a turnip because it’s bone dry and she’s out of luck. Too bad for her that while I was taking her shots, I saved my water.
I splash her with one more good stream, her T-shirt going sheer and sticking to her skin like in a wet T-shirt contest. I have never hated sports bras as much as I do in this instant because it’s the one thing keeping me from her tits.
God, this is fun! When was the last time I had silly, crazy fun with someone? I can’t remember.
I’m surprised it’s with Courtney too. Both of us are so serious, so driven, but when we’re together, it’s like those chains are broken and we can be . . . ourselves.
Once we’re both breathless and waterless, I hold out my hands. “Truce. I surrender.”
She points a short pink nail in my face. “I don’t puke on dates. It’s a rule.” Her voice is firm, but she’s fighting laughter the whole time.
Too soon, she falls off me, collapsing to the grass, and though I stare at the blue sky above us, my thoughts are all on the woman beside me.
“Are you just telling me that we can pull this engagement thing off?” Courtney whispers.
I hadn’t even put that together, but her analytical brain did. I swallow the denial on my tongue and tell the truth. “It’s not that I’m telling you. It’s that I’m telling myself that. There’s no other way, no other choice. I have to make it work.”
She sits up, looking at me carefully. “We have to make it work.”
We lie in the sun, recovering and chilling.
She even points out a section of clouds that looks like a dragon breathing fire at a mouse.
“I’m betting on the mouse. They’re cunning and clever.
Mickey’s probably baiting Puff, gonna run into a cave.
But what Puff doesn’t know is that it’s really just a tiny opening painted black to look bigger.
And when Puff follows . . . boom! Head-on collision with the rock face. ”
I look at her, feeling lighter than I have in . . . forever? “That is a remarkably detailed scenario for some imaginary cloud critters.”
I feel her shrug. “Probably saw it on a cartoon as a kid.”
She didn’t. She imagined it, other than the names, and her creativity in something beyond business is an exciting new find. Like her laughter that I can’t get enough of.
Once we’re dry and hunger is starting to sink in, we get up and head back to my car. As we get in, my phone starts ringing. Mom.
“Hold up,” I tell Courtney, answering the phone. “Mom? Everything okay?”
“Honey, the water heater’s broke again. Uhm, you mind stopping by to make sure the repair guy doesn’t rook me? It’s already an emergency weekend call.” She sounds really worried.
“Shit . . . yeah, Mom, I’ll be right there.” I hang up and glance at Courtney. “Guess you’re meeting my mom.”
Courtney immediately touches her sweat-streaked face and windblown ponytail. Then she holds out her barely dry shirt as if to say ‘seriously?’ “No.”
How do I tell her she looks more beautiful like this than when she’s fully prepared for the office? “Yes.”
Courtney’s brow knits and she looks unsure. “You can just drop me off at home.”
I shake my head, starting the car. “Come on, Courtney. We’ll tell her we’re friends, and it’ll be fine.
It’s a half-hour round trip to take you home, and by then, the repairman is going to have swindled Mom with code additions or some bullshit.
Mom’s house is close by and it won’t take but a minute. ”
I know I’m pushing, but for some reason, I want my mom to meet Courtney even though I’m playing with fire. Maybe I just want Mom’s opinion, to hear what she thinks. Does she think we’re a good couple? Can she see the spark between us that I feel on a visceral level?
Pulling up in front of Mom’s house, I wonder what Courtney sees compared to her parents’ house. I don’t think she’s materialistic or judgmental, but it is very different.
Inside, I see home—warm, simple, and a bit cluttered.
Mom’s too busy to stay on top of everything.
The blanket on the couch is the one she uses every night to watch her shows, thrown off her and piled in the corner when she heads to bed.
It’s not draped like Violet would for a client’s photo shoot, and the tray on the coffee table looks like a failed experiment at corralling the clutter because the remote is sitting just outside it and a book is over the arm of the couch.
You can see through to the kitchen, where the counters are bleach-cleaned, old laminate, the sink is empty, and the small table and chairs are the same ones I sat at as a child. But at least the small vase of fresh flowers made it front and center.
“Hey, Mom!” I call out.
Mom comes in from the garage. “Hi honey! Oh!” She freezes when she sees Courtney, her hands going to her hair to smooth the slight frizz back.
Though Mom smiles warmly, her admonishment is clear.
“I didn’t realize you were bringing someone else, Kaede.
Who’s our guest? Wait, wait . . . Abigail Andrews? ”
Courtney laughs quietly, shaking her head. “Close, Ms. McWarren. Courtney.”
“Courtney?” Mom asks, flabbergasted. “You’re all grown up! I haven’t seen you since . . . well, it has to be Kaede’s high school graduation! How are you? What brings you by?”
“Well, uh, I’ve been going to the gym and wanted some help, so Kaede—”
“Courtney and I are friends, Mom,” I say succinctly, interrupting Courtney’s very failed attempt at acting natural. I make a note that she’s shit at lying because that could be a problem.
Courtney smiles and nods at the summary, and Mom’s eyes go bright with excitement. “How lovely. Well, I am so sorry for interrupting your . . . hanging out,” Mom says, and I know the word ‘date’ was on the tip of her tongue. “But it is so nice to see you.”
“You too. You look great. Please excuse me, though. I’m a mess from running on Heart Attack Hill.” Courtney mirrors the same hair-smoothing move Mom did when she came in.