fiction friday 37: secret admirer. part 15.

Posted on 19 August 2016 by what sandra thinks

fiction friday.

This is part 15 of secret admirer. ♥
[Previously posted: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14]

part 15.

With panting breaths, I mumbled his name. My gaze fell to his mouth for a moment before returning to his eyes. “I haven’t been kissed like that since… ever.”

“So I should do it again…?” He didn’t wait for me to answer before taking my mouth again. And I didn’t want words. I only wanted him.

As our lips played, I crawled closer to him, pushing him deeper into the couch. He grabbed handfuls of my hair and held it away from our kisses. I snuck a hand down slowly from his shoulder over his chest until I reached the bottom of his shirt. My fingers slipped under and touched his warm skin. And I lifted my hand, pushing his shirt up, dying to take it from him.

“Amy…” His hand took mine, stopping me.

I lost his mouth when he spoke, but I didn’t care. I kissed his cheek, along his jawline, until I reached his neck. I sucked gently on his skin and melted a little inside when I heard his delicious little moan.

“My God… Amy…” Again, he tried to speak.

I knew I should answer but I wasn’t sure I could stop tasting him. I only managed a tiny sound. “Mm?”

“Honey…” Somehow, I finally took my mouth from him. And when I saw his eyes, I smiled. I didn’t speak but he did. “Oh, beautiful. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re about to devour me…”

“But I am…”

“Amy… I can’t let you do that.” Before he could say anything more, I kissed his sweet lips. But he mumbled through them anyway. “I promised… Amy…”

“Too late,” I whispered with a smile. “You promised you’d stop me after a kiss.”

He took my face in his hands and turned my eyes to his. “I never said after one kiss.” And he kissed me again. “But I have to stop now.”

“You do…?”

“Mm… I can’t break all my promises… I don’t want you to think you can’t trust me.”

“I trust you.”

“I don’t want you to stop…”

“I don’t want to stop,” I mumbled, returning my lips to his neck.

“Amy… oh honey… I meant…” He struggled to speak. “Trust…” He held me tighter in his arms. “I don’t want you to stop… trusting me.”

“I won’t.” I loved hearing his whispery words, his anxious breaths. And I adored the way he sighed when I gently bit his ear.

“You’re making this very difficult.”

“Greg…” My words were whispers. “I’m sorry…”

“Oh… I don’t think you are…”

I could hear the smile in his words. And I knew I had to stop. After one last kiss behind his ear, I rested my head on his shoulder.

“Torture…” he mumbled in a whisper.

A tiny laugh slipped from my lips. After moments of peaceful silence, I spoke softly. “Greg… I’m happy you’re here.”

“Does that mean I can stay?”

“Do you want to stay?”

“Of course I do. But you’re going to have to control yourself.” He barely finished his thought before his little laugh.

“I’ll try.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Greg…” I lifted my head to see his sweet face.

“What?”

“I can’t sleep in my bed… I can’t even walk into that room.”

“I understand.” His devilish smile was priceless. And his words were perfect. “But I’m not giving up the couch… we’ll have to share.”

divider dots. red.

Just as I had the morning before, I woke warm and content in Greg’s arms. And again, he didn’t want to let me go. But after a sweet kiss on my head, he did. I disappeared to the kitchen and started the coffee. When I returned to him, he stood and took my hand in his. I knew my expression was troubled, at best.

“How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’m okay. I have to figure out how to go into that bedroom.”

“I know. You can’t sleep on the couch forever.”

“Oh… that’s not what I meant. Greg, I can’t be here anymore. I need to go in that room and gather a few things so I can leave.”

“I can help you… or I can stay right here. Whatever you need.” He gave my hand a squeeze. “Amy, where are you going to go? You know you can stay with me…”

“I do… and that sounds wonderful. But…”

“I know…” When my eyes fell from his, he lifted them with a finger under my chin. “Hey. It’s okay.” He stared as a few tears ran down my cheeks. He wiped them away and pulled me into his arms. “Come on…” He spoke softly. “I’ll help you pack some things so you can get out of here.”

I pulled away but before I could thank him, my doorbell rang. Nervously, I turned and peeked out the window before answering the door.

“Oh God.” I rested my hand over my heart and breathed deeply, desperate not to fall apart.

“Amy, what’s the matter? Who is it?”

“It’s Dan’s mother.”

To be continued…

This post is part 15.
Previously posted: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14.

About what sandra thinks

Sandra is a writer, sometimes blogger, poet, artist, emotional disaster. She thinks far too much and sleeps far too little. Sandra lives in the Northeastern U.S. but dreams of an oceanfront home in Italy, but she would settle for a non-oceanfront home in Italy. She loves books, brutal honesty, coffee, and the color black. She hates insincerity, beer, whipped cream, and facebook. And she is uncomfortable talking about herself in the third person.

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