I could get used to this, I think to myself as I open my eyes. The sun is streaming through the blinds of her bedroom, its pink morning glow tumbling over the room gently. There’s only a sheet covering both of our naked bodies, and I smile as I feel one of her feet brushing against mine.

I roll to the side, that stupid smile still on my face, and I reach for her. She has her back turned to me and, with my hands almost touching her waist, I hesitate. I start thinking about what happened last night and I can’t stop myself from overthinking everything.

She seemed distraught about something, but she didn’t even tell me what it was… She just jumped on me, a kind of wild hunger flickering in her eyes. She was like a wild animal, completely untamable, and I loved every single fucking second of it.

But, I gotta wonder… Was she just looking for sex? Maybe that’s all I am for her, a walking twelve-inch cock. Fuck, I really have to stop all this self-pitying bullshit. It isn’t helping me at all.

What happened to the old Kirk?

The one who didn’t give a shit.

Well, he fell in love, my brain answers back. And he’s got to be strong till the female version of him is able to fucking realize it.

Holding my breath, I finally lay my hand on her waist, the warmness of her smooth skin spreading to my fingers. I sigh softly as I feel the curve of her hips, remembering the way it felt to be inside of her… Whenever I lose myself in her kiss, in her touch, in her body, it’s absolute perfection. It’s more than sex with her. I never thought I’d be saying something quite like this, but now I know what ‘making love’ really means.

I want nothing more than to pull her against me and hold her close. And the weird thing is, just like I told you, I’m not even talking about sex. I just want to hold her, to feel her body pressed against mine and breath at the same rhythm… as if we’re one.

Screw it, I have to stop thinking and start doing.

Draping one arm over her body, I press my chest against her back and close my eyes, breathing in the gentle perfume of her hair. She smells like Spring, like one of these perfect days where the world seems to be blossoming like a flower. Usually I need three or four glasses of wine to be this poetic, but I guess I’m already drunk on Emily. If I keep going like this, soon enough I’ll be writing her sonnets under the moonlight. And to think that I used to be the terror of women in this city.

I sigh softly as I press my whole body against hers; she stirs in her sleep slightly, and I hold my breath as I find my cock pressed against her ass, the smooth curve of her cheeks against my shaft. Remember when I said this wasn’t about sex? Well, how does the saying go? One thing leads to another… As I remember the necessity of breathing again, my heart picks up the pace and my cock starts hardening up slowly, desire rushing through my veins.

It doesn’t take long for all of my cock to be trapped between her ass cheeks, lust making my shaft pulse steadily.

“G’morning,” she mumbles in her sleep, pushing her ass back against my cock.

“Good morning,” I repeat, whispering these two words. I don’t know why, but it feels like it’s a sacrilege to cut through the silence in her bedroom right now. This little moment is so fucking perfect that I don’t want to risk ruining it.

Sliding one hand up to the nape of her neck, I push her hair over her shoulder. I take a moment, watching as the morning sunlight bathes her naked skin, and then I reach for her with my parted lips. I lay my mouth against her neck, softly kissing her, but she doesn’t react. I keep on doing it for a few seconds more, waiting for her to do something (really, anything!) but either she’s asleep or she doesn’t care.

And so I just stop, feeling like a complete idiot.

I can’t believe that I was trying to cuddle and she just ignored me. Look, I know I’m not used to the whole cuddling scene, but being rejected like this hurts like hell. Because, let’s be honest about it, this is rejection. Plain and simple.

Fuck, it’s morning already, what the hell am I doing in bed still? Emily probably sees me as nothing more than a booty-call, so why am I torturing myself with all these thoughts of relationship and cuddling up to my loved one in the morning? I’m a grown-fucking-man, and I need to stop acting like a pussy.

Well, easier said than done, of course.

Right now, all I can do is roll to the side and pretend that I’ve fallen asleep. What did you expect me to do? Jump out of bed and storm out like a drama-queen? That’s not me. Sure, I’m not exactly in the greatest of moods right now, but I don’t lose my cool that easily.

I remain lying there for a few minutes, but my mind is working overtime. No more sleep for me, it seems.

Swinging my legs off the bed, I sit on the edge of the mattress and run one hand through my hair. I stretch my back loudly, and that’s when I hear her stir in her sleep again. To my shame, I consider tip-toeing my way out of the bedroom and leaving without telling her, but then I decide against it. I won’t blame her because my feelings have been hurt; after all, it’s all my fault.

If I hadn’t been such an idiot from the start, we wouldn’t be in this situation. Even though I’ve never felt so close to anyone as I feel to Emily, there’s a kind of no-man’s-land between the two of us, a space that I simply don’t know how to cross.

I’ve tried, but either I don’t know how to do it right, or Emily just doesn’t care enough about me.

Either way, I’m fucked.