For years I imagined how he’d be in bed, yet I would never have fathomed the emotions he pulled from me, or the moans. And we didn’t even fuck. A pang of regret settled over me that I took pleasure from him, but didn’t reciprocate.
The sound of the shower pulled me from my thoughts and I immediately pictured Krew’s muscled form, all wet and soapy.
I turned onto my back, stretched, and caught sight of the scars on my wrist. As I remembered the bloody night my demons won, a shiver ran down my spine. If it weren’t for a counselor named Thomas and his life partner, James, who’d found me in the shelter’s bathroom, I’d be dead right now.
Surprisingly, Krew or Decker hadn’t mentioned my old scars on my wrist and thighs, or the bandage covering the fresh injury on my right leg. Although, I didn’t advertise them either, which was a good thing. There was no way of lying through my teeth about how I had gotten them. I didn’t think they would believe my lies any way. And talking about the scars would only open a can of worms. I’d rather the whole situation stay dead in the past.
I peeled back the bandage and examined the half inch wound on my thigh. Thank goodness it wasn’t bleeding and the wound sealed up nicely.
After I covered my cut, I took a quiet moment, and promised myself to never pick up a blade of any kind again.
I lay in bed for another few minutes until my stomach growled. I thought of Krew’s spaghetti and meatballs, and how he’d given me a taste of home. So why couldn’t I do the same?
Scrolling through my memories, I recalled only one thing Krew loved. My mother’s chocolate cake. While, I never made it, I remembered the ingredients and how Mom put it together.
“Why not,” I uttered to myself, and got out of bed. And since I was baking a cake, I decided to make breakfast, too. If nothing else, it would get me outside.
As I rummaged through the meager supply of clothes I’d brought, I realized that most of my apparel—especially my underwear, needed washing. I decided to search the small closet and found a light blue, flowery summer dress with short capped sleeves. It wasn’t my style but it would do until I washed my clothes.
I stepped into the dress, and was elated to see that it fit me. However, I wasn’t going to wear someone else’s underwear, so I went pantiless. I didn’t have the same luck with shoes. My feet were a half size too big for the shoes I found. Instead, I compromised and grabbed a pair of white flip flops, not caring if my heels hung over slightly.
With a final glance in the mirror that hung on the wall, I carefully opened the bedroom door and made sure the hallway was clear. The shower was still running, which made me wonder if both Decker and Krew were in there.
Lust shot through my core at the image I conjured up.
Focus, Regi.
I crept down the stairs to the main floor, one quiet step at a time.
The moment my feet landed on the solid tile I saw Decker sound asleep on the small sofa.
Well, that answers my question of who’s in the shower.
An automatic smile edged my lips at how Decker’s sinewy frame didn’t fit on the couch. One arm partially covered his rugged face, the other was bent and tucked under the small green pillow his head rested on. No matter how uncomfortable he appeared, Decker’s breathing was deep and even.
This was a rare chance to study him without talking to the jerk. He must have been hot during the night, because his t-shirt and a blanket were tossed onto the floor, leaving his sculpted chest exposed.
I took in every muscled curve and his tattoos—not as many as Krew had, and etched this new Decker to memory. He wasn’t the boy I knew. He was a man now, fully grown, and dangerous.
A flash of need prickled along my skin as my eyes trailed down his bent legs and then back up to the soft, denim-clad bulge at his crotch.
Hmm… I know what he’s packing in there. How would it feel to get fucked by him?—
Heat bloomed across my face, and I swiftly darted my eyes away.
Thinking of such things would only bring heartache and make me yearn for a dream that could never come true—no matter how temping either man was to me and to my wayward libido.
Not sure what to do, I quickly glanced at the kitchen. It was open to the living room, and I knew I’d make noise while cooking. The last thing I wanted to be confronted with a grumpy Decker.
Before I did anything stupid and woke up the grouch, I silently tip-toed out of the house, closing the door as softly as I could.
The sun was cresting the hillside, and the sight was stunning. Despite the brilliance of the early morning, there was a chill in the air, but it also eased the tension inside me and I let out a calming breath. There had to be something in the cool Vermont breeze because I felt soothed, like a gentle hand was caressing my skin, and combing through my short hair.
The single wicker chair beside the black, wooden front door looked welcoming, but I was a little too antsy to sit. I headed around the back of the house, breathing in deeply. The summer was nearly over, and I could detect the scent of fall in the air.
Autumn was my favorite time of the year. I could imagine the tall oaks and maple trees that stood sentry on the property, proudly displaying a kaleidoscope of colors. Burnt oranges and reds barely peeking between the tawny tones of brown. It had been ages since I last took a moment and enjoyed what was around me.
It turned into a bad habit of mine to never stop and smell the proverbial flowers. Even though I loved living in Chicago, the hustle and bustle of city life was nothing compared to the unhurried cadence of country living.
