Intrusion by Charlotte Stein

Author:Charlotte Stein
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins

Chapter Eight

I DON’T KNOW when it happens, exactly. One day I just find myself tucking one of his plaid shirts into a pair of old jeans I’ve worn three times already, and realize with a start that I haven’t been home in a while. More than a while, in truth. I’ve practically moved my dog and me into his home without being consciously aware of doing it.

Luckily, however, he doesn’t seem consciously aware of it, either. I go downstairs to see where he is—maybe just to figure out if I’ve paralyzed him with terror by invading his space in small increments—and he barely looks up from what he’s doing. He talks while working on his latest project, as though my being here is about as unexpected and uncomfortable as going to the refrigerator and finding a container of milk.

I’m meant to be here, quite clearly.

He likes me here.

“What do you want to do for breakfast?” he asks, because not only is this really normal but he’s also somehow adapted himself to my schedule. He still has on the sweatpants he wears for sleeping, at five in the afternoon. He waited for me to have the first meal of the day, even though the first meal is going to happen closer to dinnertime. And though selling and fixing machinery means he can do this, it still gives me a thrill to know he has.

We’re building a little life together, him and me.

A good life, too. I make eggs as he finishes up with the giant metal octopus he seems to be constructing. Then he tells me all about it while we eat. Apparently, in order to make the arms work, you’ve got to get all the tiny cogs in just the right places.

“Could almost be a metaphor,” I say, and he gets that look on his face.

I call it: wry pleasure. One eyebrow seems to go up even though it doesn’t go up at all, and something like a smile drifts over his lips. Though I guess now it’s kind of more than something like. It’s absolutely and really, and it gets deeper every day. Last night, I barely had to say anything to persuade him into a tangle of limbs and heated kisses. We got so close to fucking I can almost feel him there today.

And when he kisses me good-bye, it doesn’t seem like any kiss he’s ever given me before.

Unless you’re talking about the ones he gives me on my vagina.

“Hurry home,” he tells me, after which I’m in no doubt he means the ones he gives me on my vagina. His lips pull away so slow they could only be described as reluctant. Everything in his expression asks me to stay, and I don’t think he wants me to so we can play Parcheesi. I think he wants more experiments in how far he can go, and what delightful pleasure he’s going to uncover today.

I swear, I almost call in sick to work. I drive there in a daze, still feeling his mouth on mine.

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