Seeing Stars by A. Sanchez

Author:A. Sanchez [Sanchez, A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-07-04T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5

He led me to a spare bedroom down the hall from his. It was just as I'd expect it to be: clean white sheets, tan walls which still faintly smelled of new paint, and no personal touches whatsoever. He'd done the minimum to make it look less like an empty room he didn't need, and nothing more. He offered me the shower, which I did need, grimy as that bar always made me, the smell of cooking oil always embedded in my black clothes, and gave me a few tee-shirts, boxers, a pair of sweat pants to sleep in, a pair of jeans for tomorrow. It was a little weird wearing the boxers. They made me think of him. Made me wonder about certain parts of his anatomy. I was thinking about his dick. That was the truth if it. It both excited and made me frustrated, because I was thinking about a part of him I might never see.

Once we were both washed off, him having a shower in his en suite, We met back downstairs in the living room with the huge vaulted ceiling and massive flat screen on the wall and I sat on the long leather sofa like the guest I was. Back rigid, both feet planted firmly on the floor, hands in my lap. He smiled and said, “I would have never imagined you sitting here right now.” He plopped down beside me and ran a hand over his short, wet hair. He smelled like clean laundry and man.

“Not at all? Don't answer that.” It sounded flirty.

“Okay... I have.” He looked at me like he was ready. Like he'd always known what he wanted. I couldn't be so sure, after how he reacted to the kiss yesterday. I looked him over for signs of the jitters, but he seemed collected. I boldly reached for his hand, and held it. I didn't say anything.

We sat there a few minutes in utter silence. I was afraid to move a muscle, thinking he'd pop off the sofa like he was on fire. Then, he began smoothing his thumb over my palm. I looked down at my hand in his, both of them kind of large, a dusting of hair on our knuckles, his blond, mine black. I had always been glad I wasn't very hairy, because with black hair like mine, it could have been much worse.

When I looked up, he kissed me. He was so careful, so gentle, like he'd break me. I couldn't help but remember when we'd threatened to beat each other up before, and I laughed.

He pulled back and smiled with his eyes. “Are you thinking about what I think you are?”

“Fighting you out back?”

He nodded and pulled me closer, deepening the kiss, but he was holding back. He was clearly used to being with women. I could tell by the way he ran his hands over my chest and arms so softly, so romantically. When he leaned me back against the arm of the sofa, he held himself up with one arm to avoid putting his weight on me, like I'd break.

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