“And then… we deal with it.” Another shrug. “We get this out of our systems. No expectations. No complications. We’ve managed to be mostly friendly and civil for the last few weeks after seeing each other naked. We could do it again, no problem.” She’s confident, and the fact is both thrilling and terrifying because I want her. I want to be with her. But I don’t want to go back to this friendly, professional shit again unless we’re in a professional environment. And even then, I might cross a line or two.
“We can be friendsandfuck. Fuck buddies. Friends with benefits. Take your pick. And when you leave and inevitably come back to your cottage, we go back to regular buddies.” She smiles proudly, like this is the best plan anyone’s ever come up with.
I want to fuck the word buddy out of her mouth.
“And you’re okay with that? With this ending?” I’m ready to beg her to say no.
“I think it’s better than the alternative.”
“Which is?”
“Not chasing what this could be right now.” She steps closer, finally closing the distance between us.
“You’re covered in mud,” I say, brushing a chunk of it off her shoulder. Touching her in a way I haven’t allowed myself to.
“I’m aware.” She looks down at herself.
“Tammy?”
“Who else?” she asks with a roll of her eyes.
A small smile tugs at my lips. “That pig has it out for you, eh?”
“Are you seriously talking about the pig?”
“Did you seriously drive away from me, turn around, get attacked by a pig, and come back anyway?” I need to make sure she’s serious.
“That’s… exactly what happened.”
I reach out and tuck a muddy strand of hair behind her ear. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay,” I repeat, lowering my hand.
“I should probably shower.” She winces. “I’m disgusting.” I smile for the first time since she came back.
“You are. Want to use mine?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” She grins back, and I take her hand in mine. It’s our first intentional, real touch in weeks, and it lights me up from head to toe as I lead her into my house. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she whispers when we’re at the base of the stairs.
Tugging her so she’ll face me, I pull her into my body and kiss her, not giving a damn about the mud now on my clothes, too. “Do you believe it now?” I ask, giving the lips I’ve missed one more quick peck before she can answer.
“Getting there. Might need more convincing.” With a smirk, she heads upstairs, hand still in mine, tracking mud through the house. I couldn’t care less about that last thing, though.
The line’s been crossed. No going back now.
She’s been in my shower for twenty minutes. I’ve changed my clothes, cleaned up some of the mud, put our stuff in the wash, and patted myself on the back for having enough chicken andveggies in the fridge for more than just myself. Now I’m pacing in the kitchen, wanting to give her space, but also dying to touch her again. Kiss her.
“Hey, Darce?” Her voice comes from the top of the stairs, and I take the steps two at a time until I reach her. I’m smiling because she called me Darce, because she’s in my house, and because she’s probably not wearing anything but a towel right now. “You didn’t leave me any clothes.”
“Oh. Didn’t I?” I tap my chin, pretending to think, but we both know I did that shit on purpose.
Without breaking eye contact, she releases the towel and lets it drop to the floor. I shamelessly stare, taking in every detail I’ve already memorized.
“Fuck,” I whisper, my eyes locked on her tits.
“Let’s.” She takes a step closer. I know I don’t want to start anything out here in the hallway, so I pick her up bridal style—which does all kinds of wild things to my brain, because her, bride, mine… yes, please—and walk into my room, laying her gently on my bed.