I rested my head on the pile of pillows. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I just want you to be yourself.”
“I am myself. With you, I am definitely myself.” If we were at a club, the music would have just shifted from a fast, poppy song to a slower number, the kind of tune that made you want to dim the lights. “If I were with you right now, I’d be myself too.”
“What would you do?”
“If I were with you right now?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
“On my bed.”
He was quiet, but I could hear him breathing, and I pictured his chest rising and falling as he stared up at the ceiling of his brownstone on Sixtieth and Park, closing his eyes, imagining me so many blocks away. “What are you wearing?”
“Jeans. Black cami with a Hello Kitty design.”
“Ah, of course. I believe you once said it was a life-long love, you and Hello Kitty.”
“We’re still going strong.”
“And underneath?”
“Black bikini briefs with a light blue stripe.”
“So you want to know what I’d do if I were with you right now?”
“Yes.”
“I wouldn’t kiss you yet. I’d touch your naked skin. I’d run my fingers down your arms, and watch as you shivered at my touch.”
I closed my eyes and listened.
“I’d kiss your belly through your shirt, and you’d wriggle a little bit, trying to tell me with your body that you wanted more.”
I murmured something about wanting more.
“Then I’d come up for a kiss, hovering over you, my arms on each side of you.”
I longed to touch his arms, to trace how toned and strong they were.
“I’d kiss you for the longest time, and you’d be pressing your hands against my back, wanting more.”
“I would,” I managed to say, as I started to unbutton my jeans.
“And when I was sure, absolutely, totally, completely sure that you were turned on beyond a shadow of a doubt —”
“—Which I would be.”
“Which you would be. I’d return to your stomach, and I’d start to lift up your cami thing. And I’d run my tongue across your belly, and I’d take off your top. And I’d finally be able to see those gorgeous breasts of yours in the flesh.”
“And touch them.”
“God yes. I’d cup them in my hands and lick them, and I’d run my tongue from between your breasts down to your jeans, and at that point you’d be unzipping them.”
“I already have.”
“Are your pants off?”
I skimmed off my jeans, pushing them to the foot of my bed. “Yes.”
“Is your shirt off too?”
“No.”
“Take it off.”
I put the phone on the bedcover and pulled off my tank top. Then I pressed the phone to my ear. “I’m back.”
“And are you just in your underwear now?”
“Yes.”
“Touch yourself, Kat.”
I did as instructed.
“Are you wet?”
“Understatement of the year.”
He laughed lightly. “Good. Because if I were there right now, I’d be the one touching you, feeling how turned on you are. Running my hand between your legs, and you’d be moaning, and moving your hips, and wanting so badly for me to take off your underwear.”
“Would you? Take off my underwear?” The question came out in quick breaths, as I followed his direction. My hand was between my legs, and I wished he were the one touching me. But this — this was good enough for now.
“I’d kiss you through your underwear first just to tease you and make you crazy. I’d lean down, and I’d kiss those black bikini briefs, and I’d smell you, and I’d get even harder.”
“I’d want to touch you so badly.”
“I know, but I wouldn’t let you. Because I’d have to taste you, and you’d be begging me to take off your underwear, and to touch you with my tongue. And it’s all I’d want to do too. So I’d oblige your request.”
I slid out of the last shred of clothing.
“Did you just take off your underwear?”
“Yes.”
“Is your hand between your legs?”
“Yes.”
“Are you imagining it’s me?”
“Yes. I want you so much.”
“There is absolutely nothing in the entire world I want to be doing more right now than going down on you, and tasting you, and eating you. I would run my tongue across you and you would put your hands in my hair.”
“I love your hair,” I said, and the image of my hands in his hair sent me soaring. It wasn’t going to take me long at all.