Ten Days of Perfect (9 page)

“Hey.”

He walked in, shut the door, and pulled me in to a hard, exploding kiss. “God, I’ve wanted to do that
all
day,” he said when he finally pulled away from me.

“Good, me too,” I admitted as I staggered back to the kitchen.

“What’s for dinner?”

“Stir-fried veggies. Chicken for you, tempeh for me. And, Riesling.”

“Tempeh, huh? What if
I’m
vegetarian?” He casually placed his hands in his pockets as he walked toward me.

“You’re not. You had the steak sandwich at lunch. Take a seat in the living room; I’ll bring your food in.” I did my best to hide my grin.

“You’re good, Harris. OK, hand me the corkscrew.” He grabbed two wine glasses, the wine, the corkscrew, and headed to the living room.

Over dinner we talked about singing, food, wine, and the music he wanted to play on Saturday. I told him I’d love to hear more of his original work before I brought up the meeting.

“I’m really sorry about your sister and your parents, Bo. I can’t imagine what a stressful few years it’s been for you.” I looked into my wine and shook my head.

“Thank you
,
really, but I’m OK. Rachel struggled more after
they died than I did. I went in
to protection mode and she fell back
into
drugs for a while.”

“
But she’s okay now?”

“She is. She’s studying at UNH and devotes as much free time as she can to DROP. She was really a mess the year after our parents died.” He took a deep breath and grabbed my hand. “If I can help
one
family to not go through what we went through with Rachel, I’ve succeede
d.”

He kissed
my hand
gently, then stood up and beg
an gathering our dinner dishes.

“You don’t have t
o do that.” I started to stand.

“Sit.” He pointed at the couch. “You made this delicious food
. H
elping to c
lean up is the least I can do.”

He took everything
into
the kitchen and I heard the faucet run. I waited exactly one minute before heading in after him.

“You don’t have to rush out, do you?” I asked, pausing in the doorway.

“Not if you don’t want me to.” He set the wine gla
sses down and turned toward me.

“I don’t want you to.” I padded toward him, a feline grin pulling at the co
rners of my suddenly dry mouth.

My blood raced faster as the space between us closed. He leaned back with his palms behind him on the edge of the sink, his knuckles white against the counter. He watched me with intense eyes. When I reached him he wrapped his arms around my waist, and
I wrapped mine around his neck.

“How do you do this to me?” I asked as our nose
s touched.

He shrugged and smiled, carefully placing a kiss on the tip of my nose.

“
We
are doing this,” he interjected between thick kisses down my neck,
“and I don’t know how either.”

“This is so wrong . . .” I wanted to be wrong about that, but I was
n’t.

“Do you want to stop?” He
did
stop, waiting for my answer.

The little voice in my head that tried to remind me
why
this was wrong
choked on the current that hummed between us. In that moment, all reas
on and responsibility vanished.

“I don’t want to stop.” I tightened my grip around him and
our lips fell into each other.

Bo pulled away and twirled me around. My back was thankful for the cool release of the granite countertop. He ran his hands down the back of my shorts, stopping where the shorts stopped. His firm hands lifted me to a seated position on the edge of my sink. I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist, but started to pull them away at the risk of seeming too forward. He countered by grabbing my calves and twisting my legs back to where they’d been before. His body pressed in closer.

We were silent, staring at each other, searching each other for answers to unasked questions. I sighed as my heart tried to keep pace with the intensity my soul felt. As heat radiated from his body, I craved him more. This time, when his lips met mine, a high pitched sound released from somewhere in the back of my throat; as if I were taken by surprise. My hands wrapped around the bottom of his shirt and I guided it up his chest. He conceded, releasing his arms from around my waist and over his head, dropping the shirt to the floor. He scooped me off of the counter with
my legs still around his waist.

“That way,” I panted as I pointed down the shor
t hallway that held my bedroom.

“You sure?” He barely pu
lled his mouth from mine.

“M-hmm,” was all I could manage as I tried to hold myself together.

He skillfully opened my bedroom door
with one hand
, while still holding and kissing me. In that instant I was relieved that I had cleaned my house
and
made my bed. My deep purple comforter cushioned my back as he lay me down and backed away. I slinked up to the head of the bed and stared at him, but he seemed frozen. I rose to my kne
es and made my way back to him.
My fingers curled around the waistband
of his pants and I urged him on
to the bed. He pulled
back and put his hands on mine.

“Are you really sure?” His question was infused with
rasping
want.

“Are you?”

“November, I’ve been sure since
you caught my eye
when I played my first song at Finnegan’s. I wanted
you then, and I want you now.”

I pulled my ha
nds away and took off my shirt.

Those were the last words we spoke. He cupped one hand und
er my breast as I pulled him on
to my bed. I began grinding my hips into his as my body absorbed his weight; neither one of us bothered coming up for air. I shifted my weight to one side and rolled him over, my knees straddled his waist. He was rock hard beneath me. I tossed my bra to the floor and reached for his belt. He moaned beneath my touch, causing my hands to fumble for a second. With his belt on the floor, he slipped
out of his pants and rolled me over to take off my shorts. When our underwear found their way to the floor, he reached down for h
is jeans, searching the pocket.

I reached blindly to my bedside stand drawer and pulle
d out a condom. “No, I got it.”

I
was always prepared in the bedroom
, but all at once I hoped he didn’t think I made a habit out of this. He smirked as he took the foil from my hands, but ignored my confused look as he set it on the pillow
next to me.

Bo adjusted his position. His torso was on mine and his lower half was off to the side of my body, resting on the bed. His hands were like silk as they massaged my breasts, quickening my breath. I reached for him; I could feel him on the outside of my thigh, but he took my hand and placed it authoritatively on his back as he kissed each one of my nipples. My hips were rising involuntarily against his touch. He traced a line of supple kisses from my breasts to my navel. He did this for an eternity before he rose to meet my mouth. His tongue danced across my lips and I parted them, welcoming him in.
This all feels so right.
He hooked one arm under my hips, leaving his body over me. I was gloriously pinned to my bed.

Our tongues got reacquainted as I tried again to reach for him; he stopped my hand for a minute before he gave in
,
and his tongue quickened its search of mine as I gripped him tightly.

I want him so badly.

“Damn.” He pulled away from my mouth, biting his lip with his eyes closed tightly while I glided my hand up and down.
He buried his forehead
into my shoulder, and tried to control hi
s breathing as I worked faster.

“I’m not in a hurry,” he breathed as hi
s hand rode up my inner thigh.
All the air left my lungs as he expertly manipulated his fingers. I released him and dug my hands into his shoulder blades. He didn’t protest. He didn’t stop. I dragged my fingers across his expansive back and up his neck. My sighs of pleasure were punctuated by the tightening of my fingers through his damp hair.

Every inch of me bow
ed in wonder at his attention.
He wasn’t in my room for anything quick and meaningless. No, he made that clear as he moved his hands up the length of my body and interlaced his fingers behind my head. I shifted my hips a little so he was positioned between my slightly bent knees. His kiss was enough - more than enough - to m
ake my soul weep in jubilation.

Any other sexual experience I had up until this point was focused on the intercourse itself, getting there and hurtling through it until a climax on
his
part, and acting on mine. It was hard to omit a comparison to Adrian, when everything about Bo, and his touch, and his kiss,
was so staggeringly different.
I mattered
to Bo; it wasn’t just my body he was trying to please - it was my spirit, my soul, my
core.

“Bo
. . .
” I turned my face just enough to speak. He pulled
his head back and looked at me.

“Are you
OK
?” His thumb crossed my lips.

“Perfect. God
. . .
Bo
. . .
I want you.” My body was trembling under him, begging me for a release
.

Bo’s lips turned up at the corners as he reached for the condom that was lyi
ng in wait on my other pillow.

“Are you sure, November?”

“A hundred percent.” I wound my arm through his and gripped the back of his head, pulling his mouth to mine for a r
eassuring kiss.

Bo sat up to roll the condom on. He replanted his hands on either side of my shoulders. My knees rose higher as he kissed me from my ear to my navel once more. I shifted restlessly beneath him,
anxious to feel him inside me.

We moaned simultaneously as he slowly and carefully entered the deepest part of me I could physically offer. It took no time at all to find a rhythm, as if we were made to do this with each other only. I lifted my hips to meet his movement, and he hummed through clenched teeth as he increased his speed and pressure. I braced myself on my headboard as I arched my back
.

“Bo,” I panted as my breath ran out of control.

He slowed for a minute, studying my face carefully.

“No. Don’t stop.” I hitched my knees up as I spoke, forcing him deeper in to me.

“Ahh . . .
Ember, Jesus!” He cried out in ecstasy as sweat rained from his forehead, splashing gratuitously across my breasts.

We resumed our rhythm, and our rise to perfection. H
e offered all of himself as he

kissed my neck and chest. He slowed almost to a stop, forcing me to open my eyes; when I did, I saw him staring back at me. His pupils swallowed my form as they worked over me and spoke with ocean blue words. His regard pulled me out from inside myself. He seemed to drink me in - it was invigorating.

Oh my God. November, you love him.

My climax began its swell from deep in my body; I released the headboard and dug my hands into his tight back once more. His pace resumed, and I kept my hips moving beneath him until I felt all the muscles tense across his rock hard torso. He was close. I sat up, and with skillful expertise I rolled him beneath me. The surprised look on his face nearly sent me over the edge, but I maintained my grip on reality. I clasped his wrists above his head and slowly rode him as my tongue hunted through his mouth. I carried his hands to my hips and he responded dutifully, guiding me up and down. His fingers buried into my hips as he moved me faster. I wanted to bring him there. I drew my knees out as far as they would go, forcing him as deep inside
me as he could be. I was there.

“Bowan!” I wailed as my
insides tightened around him.

“Oh my god, Ember, I’m…
ahh
.” He heaved beneath me.

My climax carried on to a foreign destination as I leaned back. Bo placed his hands on the front of my thighs, quickening his hips beneath me.  He flipped me onto my back, and in another minute he was pulsing throug
h me with audible satisfaction.

He carefully slid out of me and drew his forehead down my body as his heart jumped t
hrough his chest.

“Fuck,” he said in
to
my stomach, “I’ve never felt
. . .
”

“Yea,” I tried t
o catch my breath, “me either.”