Chapter 13 - Kyle

Ever since the night Leslie let me sleep next to her, I’ve been walking around in a constant daze. At first, I was just amazed at how good it felt to open up to her. For the first time in a long time—maybe ever—I felt light, happy, and free.

It wasn’t just unburdening myself, though. It was finally being open and honest with Leslie. My desperate need to protect her, clashing against the necessity of explaining things to her, had left me completely exhausted.

Mix that with the nightmares, and I’ve got a recipe for a permanently restless man.

Since all that has passed, though, I’m restless for another reason.

Last night, we had a magical run under the stars. I kissed her, and she let me. I really thought she was ready to do more. The way she pulled away cut me to the bone.

But I don’t blame her one bit.

I sit on the couch, my head in my hands. My mind is waking up slowly, little flashes of memory surfacing in my mind and then slipping away again, like slippery fish caught in a rainbow current.

Enough. Just get up and make the damn coffee.

I can’t, though. My body is strung tight. My mind might be struggling to wake up, but my body is having no such problem.

I know I have to get myself under control. I don’t want to let her see how badly I want her, it will just end up leaving her feeling pressured. After last night, it’s the last thing I want to do.

Getting up and moving around helps a little. The strong smell of the coffee floods my senses and distracts me, settling down my body’s natural reactions to waking up.

Then I hear Leslie’s step in the hall. My cock responds immediately, and I adjust my robe to hide it.

“Good morning,” I say, trying to sound cheerful. “Here’s some coffee for you.”

I place the cup on the counter next to her, and she picks it up and takes a sip.

“Thank you, Kyle,” she answers, avoiding my eyes. She doesn’t look happy to see me, and my heart skips a few beats.

We’ve come so far. How can we be back here again, in a place where it’s like we’re strangers again?

Leslie sits down at the table, and I keep myself busy making eggs and toast. That task doesn’t take too long, though, and as I put the plates down and sit across from her, the luscious scent of her rises around me, drowning me.

My mouth waters. It really is as tempting as fresh apple pie, the rich sweetness of the gooey filling, the decadent edges of the crisp, sugary pastry. It takes every last scrap of control in me to stay in my seat and not leap over the table to devour every inch of her.

“Kyle?” Leslie’s voice breaks through the intensity of my thoughts. “Are you okay?”

“Sure, yeah,” I answer. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I said, do you have a full day at work today? I’m only scheduled for a couple of hours. I don’t have to stay late.”

“Oh, that should be fine. Just text me when you’re done, and I can come and pick you up.”

I still work just a few random shifts between Jack’s warehouse and Bae’s store. I don’t do well with customers, but I’ve got a strong back, and I don’t mind hard work. Unloading trucks and doing deliveries suits me just fine.

Getting through the rest of the morning is a sweet, sharp kind of torture. When Leslie goes to get changed, I stand in the hallway for a minute, imagining her beautiful body as she slowly strips off her pajamas.

Closing my eyes, I let my mind drift back to that magical night she let me fall asleep holding her. It was the best night’s sleep I’d ever had.

Before she can notice me creeping around outside the door, I hurry to get dressed myself. On the way to work, Leslie seems pretty distracted as well, missing some of my questions and staring into space.

Probably thinking about last night. How she doesn’t feel safe with me. I don’t know how to make this up to her.

After dropping Leslie at the ice cream parlor, I head over to the warehouse, relieved that Jack has a lot of work for me. Several hours of stacking and moving heavy boxes clears my mind and gives my body the workout it needs. By the time I go to pick Leslie up, I’m feeling much more in control.

“How was your day?” I ask as she jumps into the truck.

“Really good,” she answers, beaming. “I never thought I’d get so much satisfaction working in an ice cream shop, but I really get to make people happy. Besides, I have a serious passion for ice cream.”

“Who doesn’t,” I agree with a laugh. “It’s one of the greatest inventions of all mankind.”

“Agreed,” Leslie says solemnly. “Meanwhile, I think that someone should go back in time and cripple whoever invented vertical blinds.”

“I know, right? They are so collectively hated but so common that I honestly believe they would manifest into existence no matter how hard you tried to eradicate them.”

“Ugh. There’s a thought. Hopefully, there are good things in the world that work on the same laws.”

“Hopefully,” I answer, turning to look at her for a second. She’s looking right back at me, a gentle smile on her face.

“Would you like to go out tonight?” I ask. I had the idea lurking in my brain for most of the day, but I wasn’t sure if I’d go through with it. Seeing how relaxed and comfortable she is makes my urge to do something nice for her stronger than my doubt.

“Sure,” she answers. “Where?”

“Just the theatre,” I say. “I could use a nice relaxing movie. We can get dinner, too, if you like.”

“No, that’s okay. I don’t feel like anything too formal. A nice relaxing movie sounds great.”

When we get home, Leslie goes to shower and change and I go to the kitchen, as far away from the bathroom as I can possibly get. I try to distract myself by making some dinner, but every second I hear the water running, all I can think about is Leslie’s naked body under the hot water.

In my mind, she stands in wafting clouds of steam, soaping herself up slowly. Her fingers slide across her slick skin, rubbing over her wide hips and huge breasts under the water. I can vividly imagine how her nipple would taste in my mouth, slippery and salty, hardening under the attention of my lips and tongue—

“Kyle? Are you alright?” Leslie’s voice blasts through my fantasy, bringing me back to reality with a crash.

I’m fine. Just crippled from the waist down.

“Yeah, sure,” I stutter. “Everything’s fine. I was just thinking about dinner. Did you want me to make something?”

“No, that’s cool. I’ll fill up on snacks at the movies.”

“Okay, I’ll do the same. Let me get dressed, and we’ll go.”

Leslie watches me leave the room, and I hurry to the bathroom to shower and change, hoping I haven’t completely given myself away. I don’t want her to feel any pressure from me, but I have no idea how to keep living with her and hide my attraction to her at the same time.

After I get ready, we head out to the movie. When we sit down with our arms loaded with snacks, I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m looking forward to about two hours’ worth of distraction, a nice solid block of time where I won’t have to stress about hiding my arousal from Leslie.

For a while, I lose myself in the action. It’s just a low-key shooter, car chase type of movie with a fairly weak plot. I watch the hero pull off daring stunts as he bravely fights to save the day—and, of course, his lady.

Then about halfway through the film, they end up alone together in a safehouse, and I suddenly have a very uncomfortable feeling that I know what is about to happen.

Even though the hero is covered in potentially life-threatening wounds, he miraculously recovers when the damsel throws herself into his arms.

I try to look away. I want to look away. But my eyes are glued to the screen. Close-up images of sweat-sheened skin, slippery lips and tongues, and grasping hands hypnotize me. The sounds of their moans cripple me. I sit there paralyzed, my hands gripping the armrests, internally begging for the scene to end.

The woman doesn’t even turn me on. She’s way too skinny for me. It’s just the visceral shock of seeing and hearing so much passion and sexual satisfaction, thrown violently on top of my simmering frustration.

As if I needed to get any ideas when my imagination has been pretty colorful all by itself.

I very carefully do not look at Leslie, and I keep myself frozen in place. I’m afraid that if I look at her, all my longing and desire will be exposed, and I’ll frighten her away again.

The sex scene ends, but my lust doesn’t die. It’s been turned up to its hottest level, and there’s no switching it off now. As we leave the theatre, I carefully leave space between my body and Leslie’s. I feel like if we touch, my skin will catch on fire.

Conversation on the way home is awkward. I completely blame myself. Obviously, she can sense my attention, no matter how hard I try to hold back.

“So, ah—did you have a good time?” I ask as we pull into the driveway.

“Sure, yeah,” Leslie says. “It was alright. Not really my kind of movie, though.”

“Oh. Maybe we should go out again tomorrow and see something else.”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

I feel like a kicked dog. I’ve fucked up. She’s upset.

“Leslie, wait—”

She doesn’t listen, just shoves open the front door. She’s obviously pissed at me, and I can’t let her go to bed like this.

“Stop, please. We should talk.”

“I don’t want to talk!” she says, turning to me and crossing her arms. “I need to go out for a run. Are you coming or not?”

The memory of our last run streaks through me, a bolt of pleasure mixed with pain. I definitely want to go with her… and I know I really shouldn’t.

But I can’t resist.

“Sure,” I say, trying to keep the eagerness out of my voice.

Leslie turns around sharply and goes out the back door, letting it hit the wall as she slams it open. I get out on the steps just in time to see her shed her clothes.

I’m struck for a moment, just watching her stride naked across the grass. Then Leslie pauses and glances over her shoulder. I feel like her eyes cut straight through me, as if she can see how turned on I am.

Why should I even try to hide it? I don’t want her to feel pressured, but I can’t escape the fact she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

I tear my clothes off and hurry down the steps. Leslie turns around before I get fully undressed and shifts, running into the forest and making me chase her. Even though I know this is only going to strengthen my primal urges, I welcome the strength and passion that flood through me as I take on the chase.

Leslie sets a hard pace, weaving and twisting between the trees, keeping me on my toes. I take each stride with renewed vigor, thriving on the challenge. Her sweet scent wafts ahead of me, enticing and irresistible. I don’t know if I want to catch her so I can feast on the source of that lovely aroma or keep chasing her to enjoy this delicious anticipation.

Who am I kidding? I know which one I want.

As I finally get close up to her flank, Leslie slows down and trots into a small clearing ringed by tall trees. She runs along a short way with her nose to the ground, then sits down, throws back her head, and howls.

My own voice joins hers, bursting from my chest, screaming from every inch of my bones. All my emotions—my longing, my love, and my regret—spiral from my soul in an explosion of melancholy sound.

As her howl dies down, Leslie turns and looks at me. Her silver-gray eyes shimmer, and she shifts, standing up slowly in the pale light.

I shift, too, wanting to walk over to her, but not knowing if I can control myself if I do. The anger in our last words to each other keeps ringing in my mind.

How can I reach her? How can I show her how much I care?

Suddenly, I notice the way she’s staring at me. Her eyes are wide and a little glassy. Her tongue has crept up to the corner of her lip.

Wait… is she checking me out?

“Leslie?” I say.

She keeps staring as if she hasn’t heard me. That’s when all the moments from the last week suddenly click together.

She’s just as turned on as I am! That’s why she’s been so distracted!

The realization shocks me. I take a deep breath, filling myself with her rich, intoxicating scent. I’ve been deliberately avoiding immersing myself too much in an attempt to prevent it from torturing me. Now that I’ve got a good dose of it, though, I can practically taste her arousal on my tongue.

My other senses tune into her, picking up the throb of her heartbeat and the swish of her breath. She’s getting excited, painfully so.

“Leslie?” I ask again.

She doesn’t hear me, and I take this as a very good sign.

“Hey, Leslie?”

“Yes! Hey, sorry. I was just thinking.”

I bet you were.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Okay,” she says, giving me a hard look. Her scent is getting stronger as her skin warms up, her heart beginning to pound as desire floods her senses.

“I just want to ask something. You are under no obligations, I swear. Just say no if you’re even the tiniest bit uncomfortable, okay?”

“Okay,” she says softly. From the look in her eyes, she already knows what I’m going to say.

“Please, Leslie,” I pause, almost unable to say the words. Finally, they come out in a rush.

“Leslie, can I touch you? Please, let me touch you.”