That was never me, but I’d seen it plenty.
“You’re gonna make someone an incredible girlfriend, Pose.” I hesitate, hating the word vomit coming out of my mouth, needing it to stop. “Josephine.”
She smiles shyly at me, running her fingers down the length of her silky ponytail.
“Josephine. You haven’t called me that in days.Dink.”
She winks, using the fake name I was using on the dating app; an app I haven’t been on in days because I lost interest. Haven’t been on since she began having side conversations with Brian. Not since…
Shoot. Not since I started looking at her too long when she wasn’t watching and using her body wash in the shower and fuck, that sounds creepy.
“Now that you met me, do I look like a Josephine to you?”
I shake my head. “Not really. The name Posey has really grown on me.”
Posey snorts. “Gee, thanks.”
“I meant that as a compliment.”
“I know, that’s why I said thanks.” Duh.
I know we can’t sit here any longer; at some point, we’ll have to go inside the house. But I can’t make myself unlock the door and climb out of the truck because once I do, this spell will be broken. I’ll go back to my bedroom alone, and she’ll go back to her bedroom alone, and we’ll spend the rest of the night…alone.
By ourselves.
And obviously, my brain keeps going back to that hand job she gave me the other morning; no, not just that—I couldn’t give a shit about ahandjob. What I care about was the little sound she was making when I had my hand down her pajama bottoms. A sound like that gets itself etched into a man’s brain; it’s a sound he ain’t likely to forget.
I reckon it could keep me warm on a cold night, that’s for damn sure.All I’d have to do is close my eyes.
My eyes go to her lips.
Her eyes seem to go to mine.
And just like that, she’s across the center console, damn near in my lap, my arms reaching for her waist to pull her closer.
We’ve only kissed once, and it was while we were half asleep, in the morning, fueled by lingering dreams and half-coherence. This kiss is different. This time, we’re wide awake and in tune.
As least I am.
I pull back for a second to simply look at her as my hands cup her face; my eyes drinking in her pouty bottom lip and her wide eyes. That perky nose with the few freckles at the bridge you’d only see this up close.
Her soft lips are parted.
We kiss again.
Not one of those frantic, hurried kisses where you want to rip the person's clothes off. It’s the tender, exploring kind. The kind you’re not sure about even though you know you want it.
The kind you know you might even regret.
A goodbye kiss, almost.
Yeah, that’s what this is: a goodbye kiss because neither of us can move. We can’t date each other. She’s in Illinois, and I’m about to be in Texas, and even though I can afford to fly her back and forth, and I can fly back and forth, Posey isn’t the type of woman who would put up with that shit.
She’s the type of woman who wants to go grocery shopping for date night; take a walk about the block a few times to get her steps in and pet dogs as they pass us on the sidewalk. Do shit like catch a movie on a day it’s supposed to rain.
Posey is the marrying kind.
And I’m…