Muggy Nights

I walk him to his car. He's the last one to leave my impromptu birthday party; really more of an excuse for friends to get together and watch a few movies and eat unwise amounts of junk food than an actual birthday celebration. But I don't mind, I had a good time regardless. It's late May, and we can all see the end approaching, the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel; summer break along with its beach vacations and crazy nights was coming. The festive atmosphere had really encouraged everyone to let loose.

I'm hyper aware of his warm body just inches from mine and I wonder absently, as we walk impossibly slow down the sidewalk, if he's just as physically aware of me. As we near the goal our pace somehow slows even further until we come to a complete stop, a foot or two from his car and just out of the harsh full on glare of the street lamp.

The fireflies twinkle around us as I glance up uncertainly, not sure of his intentions, but his face shows that his mind is wandering off somewhere. I go into panic mode in my mind as I flash through a million stupid things that he could be thinking of right now. Like whether or not I came on too hard tonight, or if he thought that last joke I told was stupid.

But all he does is lean my way with his arms open—the universal invitation to hug. Pleasantly surprised, I quickly step into the warm circle and wrap my own arms around his broad shoulders, a little taken back at how far up I have to reach. For a few moments I just revel in the feeling of his body pressed up against mine and the lingering hint of some manly cologne that had survived the long night.

"Happy birthday Julie," he whispers in my ear. The warm breath that rushes over the sensitive skin of my neck makes me shiver involuntarily and his arms tighten around me in response.

"Thanks Owen, I had a great time tonight..." I debate furiously with myself whether or not to add "with you" onto my sentence but by the time I decide it's already too late and the moment is gone.

His hands come off of my back, and I take a step back thinking that the hug is over, but his hands come to rest on my wrists and grasp them loosely. I stop mid-step and hold my body very still, as if one wrong move could shatter this delicate moment unfolding in the sultry night.

His fingers continue the journey up, lightly skimming up my arms and raising goose bumps in their wake despite the muggy air that flows around us. His hands stop on my shoulders, and when I finally gather the courage to look up into his face he's already looking at me. He seems to be searching my face for a silent answer to an unasked question, and I have to fight the almost irresistible urge to look away as I feel the inevitable blush creeping up my neck and cheeks. I can see the question forming hesitantly on his lips, the conflict in his eyes as he decides whether or not to ask it.

But then his face smoothes out and all that's left is steely resolve; he leans in. I watch as his soft brown eyes, usually filled with laughter, slide close. The dim flickering light reflects over the soft curve of his eyelid. Even as I study his face I can feel my own eyes closing, my head tilting upwards in sweet response.

The first kiss is teasing, a quick brush of his lips against mine. Feather light and terribly cute, but the contact awakens something in me; I'm after something more. I tighten the arm I've sneaked around his neck and pull his face down to my level. I follow the curve of his lower lip with my tongue and end it with a playful nip of my teeth. I feel him jump a little in my arms and his mouth opens ever so slightly in surprise. I tentatively slip the tip of my tongue into the gap, seeking a playmate. I lick the tip of his tongue, and it's like a spark of static shock. It sends a wave of heat down through my body as I subconsciously step even closer into him.

"Mmm, Cathy..." is the last thing he says before beginning to earnestly fight my tongue for dominance. His hand travels up the curve of my back before gripping the back of my head, tilting it to get a better angle. His fingertips dig roughly into my scalp and I let out a low moan into his mouth. At the sound, the arm around my upper back slides down to cradle my hips, and he pulls me flush against him. The rough waist band of his jeans is rubbing against the exposed strip of flesh right above my shorts, and it's driving me crazy.

When his tongue does a particularly wicked maneuver in my mouth I start to subconsciously grind against him, hand coming up to run through his thick silky hair. There's an urgency now that wasn't there before. The battle in our mouths is becoming more frantic.

Suddenly reality hits and I'm ripped from this seductive haze. We're in the middle of the street on a well used college road with dorms on either side. While not well lit, the street lamp still renders everything pretty visible. Inexplicably shy even after that bone melting kiss, I can't meet his eyes as I hesitantly ask my question.

"Would you... like to come back in?" The silence grows longer and longer, and right as I'm about to blurt out an awkward goodnight and make a run for it, a callused hand seeks out mine to intertwine our fingers. I look up and his smile reaches all the way to his eyes which are hooded over with more than a bit of lust.

"I was hoping you would ask." His voice has dropped a whole octave and is just a rumble in his chest, the vibrations sending a delicious shiver through me. Still holding hands, it's all I can do from sprinting headlong back to my dorm room, dragging him along with me. Instead, I just set a brisk walk that his long legs enable him to match effortlessly.

*A little something I've been working on. Just putting it out there. To be continued? *