30. How Can I Keep You?
HOW CAN I KEEP YOU?
Dive by Ed Sheeran
Holden
“Like this?” I ask Natalie as I knead the dough. It’s not sticking to my hands anymore, which is what she said would tell me it’s ready, but her smile is what lets me know it’s actually done.
“That’s perfect. Now, throw some flour over it and put it over here to rest.”
I do as she says then rest my back on the counter.
“You’re a natural in the kitchen.”
“Thanks. I used to be a Latchkey kid when Mom had to work, so I learned how to cook more than mac this one feels like she’s craving more. She tugs at my hair, pulling a groan from my lips.
I hold her neck in my hand, careful not to pull too hard but completely getting lost in her. In no time, her breasts are in my hands, and she’s arching against my touch.
Everything is heightened. The way her skin feels as my fingers explore the edge of her top, right under the apron.
The way little noises catch in her throat, swallowed by our tongues, driving me insane with what might happen next.
The way she tastes—like my favorite dessert.
The way she smells, sweet and fresh and very close to me, wanting her forever in my life.
She gets closer, impossibly close, allowing my dick to rest nestled between her thighs.
This feels like heaven, her in my arms and letting me in a little bit more.
My hands inch under her shirt, climbing up her soft stomach.
My fingers explore over what I assume are stretch marks, finding small bumps as I go, and then she freezes. Completely stops kissing me.
She’s not breathing.
I open my eyes and find pure fear behind hers, so I pull my hand out and look at her.
She shakes her head, pushing me away and hopping down from the counter. “I’m so sorry." Her words are like a knife straight to my heart.
“It’s okay,” I say, careful not to touch her, even if that’s all I want to do right now.
She breathes heavily, hand on the counter and another on her back as she faces away from me.
“Natalie, really. It’s okay. Your pace, okay?”
“Okay,” she says, her words shaky. “I need a minute.” She disappears, leaving me in the kitchen alone with my thoughts, wondering what happened.
I wait.
I know how to cook, but I have no clue how to finish the pasta we started making from scratch.
I open the fridge and find enough ingredients to make a sauce. I feel a little useless at the moment, and this will have to do.