“Mrs. Zingaro, I’m really late,” I said as she greeted me just as I was shutting my door.
“Okay, honey, I was just coming up to offer some of my ziti. I know how much you love it. I’ll put some aside for you.” Guilt instantly wracked me as she looked me over. I’d been spending less and less time with her over the last month. “And for the hundredth time, please call me Jenny. You look snazzy. Did you get a new fella?”
“I think so,” I answered.
“Good for you, Abigail.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I just don’t want to be late.”
“I understand. I’ve taken up a lot of your time,” she said softly before she perked up. “I hope this one sticks.”
“You and me both.”
She lingered a moment longer. It was obvious she’d recently dyed her silver hair; her hairline was stained purple. I’d been the one to help her with it the last few times she’d colored it. This time, she hadn’t even asked.
“Jenny, I really have to run. I’ll come by and grab that ziti on my way home.”
“Don’t you worry. It will be waiting when you’re ready.” She carefully made her way down the steps as I watched her struggle with her footing. I didn’t know how much longer she would be able to self-sustain. I would have to talk to her son about it in the near future. The thought of her leaving broke my heart. But instead of offering my company and making a promise for later, I kept my mouth shut. Miss Fix-It had a date.
Minutes later, after giving Bennie his twenty outside the café, I flew past Cameron with my borrowed I Wish I Were Felicia. She’s Always Going Somewhere mug and opened my Mac.
Abbie’s Mac: Hi. Sorry I’m late. I got cornered by my tenant again.
He’d been frowning at his screen while I got comfortable. His lips twitched with a small smile as he read my message then looked over at me.
Cameron’s Mac: What did you have to pretend to fix this time?
Abbie’s Mac: Nothing. Turns out she just wanted to feed me, and I was witchy to her before she even offered it. I’ve been spending a lot of time with her the past year and I’ve been neglecting her lately. I feel like shit. But I have to stop before she asks me to join her knitting circle, ya know?
Cameron’s Mac: I’m sure she understands. And I have to say, I’m fond of you for taking care of her like that. It’s a good thing you care.
Though it was warmer today, he was bundled up in a hoodie and wearing a ball cap which was a first. He looked exhausted and for the first time ever, thrown together. Something was . . . off.
Abbie’s Mac: Things looked serious over there when I got here. Everything okay? Are you getting sick?
He gave me a mustered wink as he did a slow perusal of me from the tip of my ankle boots to the top of my head. I didn’t know how he did it with a look alone, but by the time he was done, I felt worshiped. We’d been having coffee every day for the last week and I had to admit I was growing tired of my own rules.
Cameron’s Mac: And now you’re worried about me? Everything’s fine, nothing a little sleep can’t fix. Besides, there’s a lot more I’m interested in going on over there.
Abbie’s Mac: I’ll take that as a compliment.
Cameron’s Mac: As you should. Fuck, you’re beautiful.
Though the sky was gray, I felt covered in sun.
Abbie’s Mac: Do you do that to every woman you woo?
Cameron’s Mac: Do what?
Abbie’s Mac: Say things like that?
Cameron’s Mac: You get no history of woo. Your rules and woo? I mean I know what wooing is, but is that still a word fit for 2017?
Abbie’s Mac: It’s the best word. And I’d say you’re bringing it back fucking nicely.
Cameron’s Mac: Such a dirty mouth on a totally fucking wooable woman.
Though his eyes were lit with mischief and his tilted lips told me he was happy to see me, it was the weariness in his posture that prompted my next question.
Abbie’s Mac: Tell me what’s wrong.
He hovered over his keyboard and I saw him make the decision.
Cameron’s Mac: Can’t.
Abbie’s Mac: You sure? Something I can help with?
Cameron’s Mac: Not with this.
Abbie’s Mac: That bad?
He shrugged.
Cameron’s Mac: Just a shit day. I need a vacation.
Just as he said it, his phone rattled on the table. He ran a business and I knew more than anyone how taxing it could be. He silenced his phone without looking at it and put it in his pocket.
Abbie’s Mac: Sure I can’t help?
Cameron jerked his head as if the question annoyed him and I paused my hands over my keys. It was the first time I’d seen that side of him and I sat idle. Uncomfortable and ready to make an excuse, I began to type.
Cameron’s Mac: I’m sorry. Don’t even think about leaving me here. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.
When I remained quiet he spoke.
“Abbie, look at me.”
I looked up over our Macs and saw his apology.
“I’m sorry.”
Abbie’s Mac: It’s fine. I shouldn’t have pushed.
Cameron’s Mac: It’s one of the things I like about you. I’m fond of Miss Fix-It. Okay? I’m sorry. I’m fucking stressed out and I’m tired and all I want to do is walk over there and ruin your lips.
I would have given anything to run my fingers through his hair and kiss his thoughts away. I said a silent prayer he could deliver a kiss. It meant life or death to me.
Abbie’s Mac: Are you a good kisser?
Cameron’s Mac: I’ve had no complaints. But why don’t you get that beautiful, jean-clad ass over here and find out?
Abbie’s Mac: You would kiss me for the first time in a coffee shop?
Cameron’s Mac: In front of God and everyone. At this point, I’d kiss you anywhere you let me. Are you ready for that, Abbie? Because once I get access to those lips, I’m going to suck them dry.
Abbie’s Mac: Sounds promising and painful.
Cameron’s Mac: A kiss can be an introduction, statement, and a promise. I plan to make all three when you let me.
I trembled inside at his words. He was coming on strong. But we’d been doing the coffee dates for over a month. I sometimes wondered if he was going to tap out. As if he could sense my thoughts, he sent another message.
Cameron’s Mac: I can wait. I will wait. Tell me about your day.
Abbie’s Mac: Much of the same. Nothing to report. Numbers don’t lie—ever. It’s so cut and dry, sometimes I wonder what I was thinking with my career choice.
Cameron’s Mac: Bored?
Abbie’s Mac: I need a challenge. A puzzle I can’t figure out. I need to be engaged, and the project I’m working on is ending soon. I just need that fire that comes with a new job.
Cameron’s Mac: So, it’s coming. You just have to be patient.
He smirked because he’d gathered through our earlier conversations that patience was something I lacked. Cameron read me well, and I loved that fact.
Abbie’s Mac: My mother says I was the most restless and eager kid on the planet. And she claims I ruined every spelling bee, blurting the answers out of turn.
His brow lifted as he gave me another knowing twist of his lips.
Cameron’s Mac: You totally ruined them.
Abbie’s Mac: Yes, Cameron, I am I M P A T I E N T. I ruined the second-grade spelling bee and Steven Marcum’s epic comeback. I was an asshole kid.
Cameron’s Mac: Overachiever?
Abbie’s Mac: No, but I wanted to be. So badly. My mother’s praise was all I craved.
I gave a light laugh while I typed.
Abbie’s Mac: My mother’s love made me an asshole.
Cameron’s Mac: I love it when you crack yourself up. Laugh at your own shit. It’s adorable.
Abbie’s Mac: You do?
Cameron’s Mac: Yeah, I do. And you’re not even funny.
I shot him the bird. That earned me a chuckle.
I studied his Adam’s apple while he laughed, itching to get my lips on it, that’s when I saw the deep scratch next to it.
Abbie’s Mac: What in the hell happened to your neck?
Cameron’s Mac: Max’s pit bull, Veronica. She gives shitty hickies.
Abbie’s Mac: That looks awful.
Cameron’s Mac: Doesn’t hurt. And don’t worry, she made sure to apologize by taking a shit in my Nikes.
He grinned and swept his tongue over his bottom lip. My breathing went shallow as I let my imagination get the best of me.
Cameron’s Mac: Want to take a shot at a better hickey? I have the whole left side free.
Abbie’s Mac: Hickies are for High Schoolers and now you’re telling me I’m competing with a pit bull?
Cameron’s Mac: You don’t have to suck, I don’t mind just your lips and tongue.
His smile turned devilish as he typed.
Cameron’s Mac: And I’ve known Veronica longer, she’s proven her loyalty.
Abbie’s Mac: Ouch.
Cameron’s Mac: Want me to come over there and attend to that? Just tell me where it hurts.
Warmth flushed my body as his eyes swept me.
Cameron’s Mac: You’re out of coffee.
Inwardly, I sighed as he stood and walked over to retrieve my cup. He leaned down and picked it up so we were eye level. It was the first time we’d been face-to-face since we’d met, and I felt myself sink into the seat as his heated green eyes scanned my face.
I felt it then, the undeniable pull, the buildup of attraction that flowed between us like a low lying electric current. It stunned me into clearing my throat. He picked up the cup and waited, for what I wasn’t sure. Licking my lips, I concentrated on his mouth, my heart pounding as he leaned in a little further, and then a little more. One inch would have our mouths meeting.
My heart sputtered as blood flowed everywhere, circulating and collecting between my thighs. I wanted his kiss. I wanted it more than my next breath, the one he stole with his subtle inch forward. The sheer size of him was alluring on its own, never mind the intoxicating smell of leather and man that drifted into my nostrils. The man wore a cologne designed specifically to get me high.
At that moment, I needed to feel the full, pale cherry-colored lips that waited in the breath between us. Just as I started to close the space, he stood, dashing my hopes as he walked away with a wink.
He’d played me.
Face flushed with lusty thoughts of my lips, his skin, my heart, his cock, my teeth, and his tongue invaded my head as I tried to get myself together. I was in pieces, and all he’d done was toy with me.
Holy fucking shit.
Did abstaining from the physical make a relationship more meaningful? Maybe, but before long, it was inevitable you’d end up like Cameron and me, skirting around the elephant in the room that refused to be camouflaged. Our relationship wasn’t based on sex, but we’d hit that crossroads. Our imaginations were taking over, and we were both thirsty.
Was it time to take a drink?
Take a drink, bitch.
“Thanks, Bree,” I muttered.
Minutes later, Cameron set my cup down on the table, and I ogled his tight ass before he took his own seat, too far away. When he was comfortable, he glanced my way and read my posture. I was fully turned on, and he’d done next to nothing. But the heat in my cheeks told me I was flushed, and I was swallowing repeatedly. I wanted him, and it was evident.
Reflected in his eyes was a deadly combination of sex, desperate want, and intense need. Overwhelmed, I had no way to cope, and the only solution was to take a step in his direction. I wanted to lick the salt off his Adam’s apple, to feel his weight on top of me. I was there.
Cameron’s Mac: Penny for your thoughts.
Abbie’s Mac: No way.
Cameron’s phone rattled on his table and I nodded toward it.
Abbie’s Mac: Want to get that? It’s been buzzing for an hour.
I played with the petals of the pink peony he’d brought me and then sheepishly glanced his way. His jaw ticked as he watched me. He hadn’t budged.
Cameron’s Mac: Tell me, Abbie.
It was a demand on his part, and I couldn’t blame him. I was equally as intrigued.
Abbie’s Mac: You tell me.
Another staredown.
Cameron’s Mac: You sure you want the blunt truth?
I slowly nodded.
Cameron’s Mac: I want to make you come.
I closed my eyes as my whole body shivered at his admission.
Cameron’s Mac: I want to taste you in every way a man can taste a woman, savor you on my tongue and swallow.
Cameron’s Mac: I’m dying to know what you sound like moaning my name. I’m fucking dying, Abbie, just to kiss you.
Cameron’s Mac: But I can wait. I will wait. I will wait as long as it takes for you to look at me and have a decision made.
Abbie’s Mac: Why me?
Cameron’s Mac: Why not you? I’m not interested in anyfuckingthing else. Nothing. But. You. This, you and me, is all I look forward to. And it already feels better than all the woos before you. Want some more truth?
Jesus, could I handle more? Hell yes I could. I nodded.
Cameron’s Mac: Every night while I lay in bed, I stroke my cock thinking of you. And it’s been every single night for the last two weeks. Ever since you started looking at me that way.
Abbie’s Mac: What way?
Cameron’s Mac: The way you’re looking at me right now. Jesus, I’m hard, and I’m getting harder thinking about the kiss you almost gave me.
Abbie’s Mac: You pulled away.
Cameron’s Mac: I won’t do it again. Your turn. And don’t hold back.
Lips parted, my erratic pulse made me glad I was sitting. Every limb in my body thrummed with the possibilities.
Abbie’s Mac: I had an orgasm for every letter of your name last night.
His eyes hooded as he read the words then looked over at me.
Cameron’s Mac: When we leave here today, I want you to do the exact same thing. I want you to go home, slip your panties off, and touch yourself while thinking of me.
Abbie’s Mac: Okay.
Cameron’s Mac: Show me the finger you’ll use.
I pressed my finger to my lips and sucked.
Cameron’s Mac: Fuck. I need to go. Abbie, I have to go.
Abbie’s Mac: Don’t go.
Cameron’s Mac: I can’t stay a fucking minute longer and respect the rules.
He glanced over at me, his eyes pulling me under. I was sure I was in need of a panty change. And even more so, I was frustrated I couldn’t bring myself to close my Mac and put us both out of our misery.
Cameron’s Mac: I can’t stay. But I’ll keep waiting, Abbie. I promise. Meet me here tomorrow?
Abbie’s Mac: Yes.
My shoulders slumped as he packed his bag. Pushing out my lips, I protested, but he shook his head adamantly. Were we really going to leave each other to touch ourselves in bed?
We were in a silent standoff. It was either pull the trigger and give into the physical or wait it out a little longer. Most of me told me to trust my gut, to try to trust him, but my head wasn’t ready. I sighed and grabbed my purse and my Mac. Cameron stood stoically, patiently waiting for me to leave.
It was cruel to both of us, but we were still safe. All our good intentions toward the other kept intact. Our situation remained respectable, albeit the perverts that existed just under the surface were going to win the war that day.
I hauled ass home, my limbs burning with ache, my skin on fire, and heart pounding at the fact he knew I was racing home to come with his name on my lips. And he was going to do the same.