I dig around in my purse for my key as I approach the front door. I’m distracted as I slip it in and unlock the knob, turning to wave to Cash. But he’s not on his bike at the curb. It’s resting on the kickstand, motor idling. He’s charging up the sidewalk toward me. Before I can even blink, my back is pressed to the cool metal of the door, Cash’s lips are on mine and his hands are in my hair.
I melt into him. Relief that he was feeling the same way battles for dominance with the desire to drag him into my bedroom, shut the door and pretend nothing and no one exists outside it.
But before I can give in to that urge, Cash is pulling back, giving me room to breathe and giving rational thought the tiny crack it needs to wiggle back into my mind.
His eyes, darker than the night around us, search mine as his hands move from my hair to my shoulders and down my arms to grip mine. “Do me a favor,” he whispers, curling my fingers over the back of his and bringing them to his mouth.
His eyes never leave mine as he brushes his lips over my knuckles. “Dream of me tonight,” he says softly. He watches me, waiting for a response. I have no words, so I simply nod. He doesn’t need to know that no one else occupies my dreams. No one.
“Dream of my lips, teasing you.” Straightening one of my fingers, he kisses the tip. His voice is like velvet and his words are like an aphrodisiac. “Dream of my tongue, tasting you.” His tongue sneaks out to flick the end of my finger. A surge of desire rocks my core. “And I’ll dream of you. Of what it feels like to be inside your warm, wet body.” As if to show me what he feels, Cash sucks my finger into his mouth and pulls it in and out of his mouth, back and forth over his tongue. I can barely breathe.
He pulls it out, but before he lets it go, he gives it a gentle bite. I feel a burn in the pit of my stomach, a drop of lava in a boiling volcano.
“Good night, Olivia,” he says quietly. And then he turns and walks away.