Selcouth, adjective
Unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet marvelous.
Whatever I tried to do that day failed.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her, couldn’t stop going back into my bedroom to touch the sheets that still held the shape of her body. I stroked the spot where her ass had flattened the mattress until it disappeared and then berated myself for letting go of it so quickly. I wanted more. I wanted Bebe Hall back in my bed, and I wanted to watch her sleep sweetly and soundly.
Her scent was still heady and fragrant in my bedroom, almost too overwhelming to stay in it. But I couldn’t walk away. I filled my nostrils with her perfume and my head with images of her, of us, together. I was well and truly hooked, addicted to her scent and the way she made me feel. There was no going back now. I wouldn’t stop until I had her. I was more determined than ever.
The thing that puzzled me was the raw need for her, the desperate, primal urge to make her mine. I’d never felt like that before when it wasn’t all about sex, like a fucking caveman, wanting to make every inch of her mine and hearing her admit that she belonged to me completely. I realized as the day dawned in my Bebe-scented bedroom, that I wouldn’t be able to stop the itch anymore. Bebe Hall had fucking arrived, and she was the obsession I didn’t ever want to get rid of.
What would Dr. Halen make of this? I wondered briefly, but instead of dealing with the issue at hand, I wrapped it up in a big bow and put it in the darkest corner of my mind, where I didn’t have to deal with it just yet. Not until everything imploded. And judging by Bebe’s short fuse, that wasn’t going to be long in coming, anyway.
The hours passed and before I knew it, it was evening, past seven p.m.
I’d eaten something but mostly just hung around the apartment listlessly, unsure of what I should be doing, until eventually I collapsed into bed. When my phone rang, I was grateful for the distraction. That is until I saw Bebe’s name flashing across the screen.
Things would be different now. Now, Bebe would know how I really felt. And the weight of those three little words she’d whispered to me was heavy, almost too heavy to bear.
I answered with a slight tremble in my voice, as desperately as I tried to hide it.
“Hello.”
“Hi… Miles.”
Her voice was small and scared, like a little girl’s.
“Are you okay?” I asked roughly, ready to knock out the teeth of whoever had upset her.
“Yeah,” she whispered back. “Can we talk for a while?”
“Just talk?” My words were soft.
“Yeah,” she said again. “I just want to hear your voice.”
My heart ached with hurt. I wanted this, God, I really fucking did. But it was dangerous territory. It meant Bebe was in charge of me, at least judging by the way my heart was pounding for her, desperate to tell her how I really felt. To have her back in my arms where she belonged… But it was too soon for that. I would have to keep my distance a little while longer.
“Where are you?” I wanted to know.
“Lying in bed.”
I could hear the mattress moving under her.
“Where are you, Miles?”
“In my bed,” I admitted, my hands ruffling the sheets.
“The bed I slept in?”
“Yes.”
A long pause.
“Does it still smell like me?”
Another pause to make my heart nearly explode out of my chest before I opened my mouth and confessed the truth. “Yeah.”
“Do you like it?”
“I do.”
“Do you wish I was there?”
A loaded question, bursting with promise and desperation.
What was the right answer? Of course I wanted her to be there with me. But the mere thought of Bebe so close terrified me. I’d never let anyone in, not anyone that mattered like she did. It had been years since I’d had someone in my corner. Years since I’d been anything but alone.
“I do,” I finally said, and I heard her exhale slowly, then giggle.
“You like me,” she teased.
“You like me too,” I reminded.
“I guess we’re even then.”
We settled into a companionable silence, and I listened to the rhythmic, calming sound of her breaths. She was addictive, fucking incredible and scary as shit. I was terrified of a girl a foot shorter than me with fists so tiny they fit easily inside my own. She was the scariest person I’d encountered in my whole life. And I’d never wanted anyone more than her.
“Can we keep talking?” she asked softly. “I need to speak to someone.”
“What’s wrong?” I tried to find out, and I could hear the hesitation in her voice.
I wanted to break her. Force the truth out of her and make her admit exactly what had happened. It had to come from her, though, not from me forcing it to leave her lips.
“You can tell me anything,” I added lamely, wondering whether that was true, even as the words left my mouth.
Would I really understand anything she’d tell me? I could barely picture her life, all fizzy champagne and loud music, pills and booze and drugs and rock ‘n’ roll.
“I had a fight,” she finally murmured back. “An argument.”
“With your friend?” I asked on instinct.
“Yeah,” she replied after a short pause. “Arden.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, feeling awkward as fuck. I wasn’t a great mediator, and I had no idea what to do. Surely all girlfriends fought, right? But from Bebe’s tone, I could tell this particular argument was more serious than the spats I’d seen girls have before.
“No,” she replied sharply, and I exhaled with relief. “I really, really don’t. Can you distract me? Just talk about anything, anything in the world.”
My mind whirred and tried to come up with a question.
“What are you wearing?” I asked, and I could feel the hurt from her silence. “I’m sorry. I… I wasn’t sure if that was what you wanted.”
“No,” she said sadly. “It’s okay. I guess that’s what we do, after all.”
“Come stand next to the window,” I asked her. “I want to see you.”
I got off the bed, and the sounds from my phone told me she was doing the same thing. I stood in front of the tall window in the bedroom, my eyes finding her body on the other side of the street.
She was naked. Completely naked, her body exposed to my eyes.
I was still wearing boxers, and I was grateful for it. If I’d been naked, Bebe would have seen my dick jerk in response.
I raised a hand and placed it on the window, my other hand holding the phone. I motioned for Bebe to do the same, and she did.
“You’re beautiful,” I told her.
“You keep saying that.” Her voice was low, sad.
“It’s true. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
“So why won’t you…” Her unfinished sentence hung in the air, and I watched her look down at the floor.
“Why won’t I what?” I asked softly, because I was a stickler for self-punishment.
“Why won’t you touch me?” she asked. “Why won’t you fuck me, Miles?”
How could I explain it?
How could I convince her that suddenly, she was the only person in my life I gave a shit about, the only person I cared about, the only one I wanted to make an impression on? She would think I was insane, developing a connection to her she might not have even felt herself.
“I’m scared,” I finally replied. “Do you understand why?”
Our eyes locked across the street. I could see the shadow her body threw behind, on the floor. It was small and shaking, like a child. I wanted to hold her. Tell her it was going to be okay.
“Bebe.” Her name came out rushed, desperate, but I was too far gone to worry about how I sounded. “Can I…” I took a deep breath, “Can I come over?”
She stared at me, wide-eyed, her lips moving soundlessly as she answered.
“Now?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I want to hold you.”
“Will you? Do you promise?”
“Yeah.”
I watched her chew her bottom lip, her eyes locked on mine, begging me not to break my promise.
“Come,” she said. “I’ll leave the front door open.”
She cut the call and stepped away from the window.
My hands shook as I pulled on some jeans and a Henley. If I stopped for one second to think about this, I would change my mind, and I couldn’t afford that. I needed to get over there and finally hold her. I needed to know what her body felt like against mine before I lost my fucking mind.
I looked at the front door that had taunted me so many times before.
Leaving the apartment had gotten harder and harder as the days turned into weeks, months and years. Until I was so secluded, so absorbed in my own fear, I couldn’t even leave the apartment to go downstairs and get my mail. But now, I was going to risk it all for her.
The germs.
The fear.
The madness of going out there, to her apartment, to hold her in my arms. It wouldn’t end well, none of this would.
Yet for once, I didn’t give a shit.
I locked the door on my way out and slipped the key in the pocket of my jeans. Every movement felt like a losing battle, but I fought through it. Every step took effort I didn’t know I had in me. Every fucking foot away from my apartment was like walking on pins and needles.
The doorman smiled at me as I entered the lobby.
“Looking good, Mr. Reilly,” he said, and I managed a weak smile.
I forced myself to step outside, look up at her window to find a faint glow behind the glass. She was waiting for me.
For the first time in years, my existence had a purpose. For the first time in years, I gave a shit about someone other than me, and it was cutting me deep.
My next step was confident. My posture perfect. Suddenly, I wasn’t doing this for Bebe anymore.
I was doing it for myself, and I couldn’t fucking wait to have my fill of Bebe Hall. And I wouldn’t fucking stop until her sweet juices were running down my thighs. Until I could taste her essence on my very soul. I wouldn’t fucking stop, and she had no idea what was coming.