Page 51 of Wine & Dine

20

Condom sense

[Garrett]

Please don’t say you regret it.

Is she kidding me? There’s nothing I regret less in my life than entering her as I did.

Was it responsible? No.

Was it incredible? Yes.

I haven’t felt something like this in…I don’t even know. Can I remember as far back as the late eighties, being a reckless teen, and sleeping with my high school sweetheart in the back seat of my mom’s sedan…nope. Besides the fact I’m a man, compared to my teenage body and hormones of thirtysomething years ago, so to my dick, this is unique, indescribable, and truly special.

It’s the same for other parts of me.

Tap, tap goes something in my chest.

We collapse on the bed after a quick shower of suds and scrubbing but nothing further. I need a few minutes to recover, so Dolores curls into my side. It’s nice—this cuddling thing—or maybe it’s just her. I have this sense she isn’t pretending with me. She doesn’t have a hidden agenda. She doesn’t want to know the bottom line of my bank account. She doesn’t care about any of my things. So while she strokes her fingertips over my chest, combing through the fine hairs making a vee between my pecs, I close my eyes and just breathe her in.

At some point, we drift off to sleep, but I awake to another fulfilling fantasy of her mouth on me, savoring and salivating over my rock-hard erection. God, her mouth. It’s heaven.

What is she doing to me?

I’ve asked myself this question a thousand times in the past few weeks. Is it really that she’s doing something to me, or am I just opening up to her? It’s been strange being here, bringing up the memory of asking Kate to marry me. The look on Dolores’s face when she finally asked me why here and why her. I can’t explain myself. I trust her. I trust her to be honest and not to leave me.

It’s a deep-rooted fear. One steeped in little boy leftovers from a father who dumped us, and the foolish heart of a young man throwing it all on the line for a woman not free to accept my offer. Somewhere inside me wants to cling to Dolores while another part of me tells me not to hold too tight. She doesn’t need another person to take care of in her life. She’s told me about her mother, her grandmother, the diner, and all the things she does for others.

Who does things for her?

I haven’t asked because the answer’s in her eyes. She’s alone, like me.

Is she lonely?

I wouldn’t say I was, but now that I’ve spent so much time with her—the nightly dinners, the dance lessons, a weekend away—Dolores will be someone I miss greatly if she leaves. Loneliness is the haunting emotion I’d feel if she went away.

I like her. A lot.

Do I love her?

I was joking when I said it earlier. You know you love me. A slip of the tongue, so to speak, but the question is, could she love me? Could I love again, love her specifically? My hollow heart beats. Not so hollow anymore, methinks.

I sit up and tug her from my slick length.

“I wasn’t finished,” she murmurs, drowsy still, maybe drunk on me. God, I want her to be.

“Come here,” I say, guiding her up and over me. We took this position last night, but something slipped in her eyes when I told her to ride me. I flip her once we align, and she spreads her thighs to accommodate my legs. “Are you sore?”

I went a little rough on her in the chair. My dick jolts with the memory. My heart skips with a new feeling.

Dolores shakes her head on the pillow. “But maybe we could slow down at first.”

I lean over her, reaching for the nightstand where I stowed the condoms I should have used earlier. She doesn’t question me as I kneel back and sheath myself. There’s no urgency like an hour ago, and my heart races. She’s looking at me like she sees my soul.

Do you know how I feel about you?

Can you hear my heart beating for the first time in a long time?