s."
Probably, it would have served me wel to say no.
"I just have to stop at the bakery on my way home," I said.
Traffic eventual y eased and we made our way out of the city. Every now and then Kyle's fingers would lightly touch my hair or brush gently
across my neck. I didn't stop him or even acknowledge it.
"I'l meet you at your house," Kyle said when I was getting ready to depart.
"There's a spare key under that big rock in the front garden, if you don't want to wait outside for me."
"Cool. Now I can sneak into your house anytime I want to."
"Can you turn the crockpot off, stalker?" I asked, rol ing my eyes.
"Sure. Be careful." He leaned over and kissed the corner of my mouth.
"Okay," I said, flustered.
The bakery was half way between my house and the speed line. I parked at the curb while I ran in for bread to go with dinner, and a cake for
dessert.
When I got home, Kyle was draining pasta in the sink, with his sleeves rol ed up to the elbow and the top of his shirt unbuttoned. His tie was on
the table and his jacket was draped over a kitchen chair.
"Thank you, Betty Crocker," I said, pul ing my shoes off.
"Julia Childs," he grinned.
"I'l be back, Julia. I have to change."
I went upstairs and after some thought, I changed into unattractive sweat pants and an ugly purple tee shirt. Maybe if I looked a hot mess, Kyle
would be less likely to want to throw me on the floor and make sweet love to me. The thought of it instantly made me horny.
I sighed and returned to the kitchen where Kyle had set the table and poured two glasses of red wine.
"Nice work," I said, impressed.
"Thanks."
We ate dinner with quiet conversation. It was pleasant and platonic, and I started to feel that maybe we could pul off this friendship thing after
al . After dinner, we put the dishes in the sink and started on the cake, while standing at the counter.
"I want to talk to you about something," Kyle said after we finished the cake and had washed it down with the rest of the wine.
"If it's about the cake, I'm sorry. We can't always have my mother's cake, and I'm not a good baker. My cookies burn and my cakes are crunchy."
His mouth curved up slightly, amusement danced in his eyes.
"I'l let it slide this time," he said.
"What a friend." I gave his arm a hearty, friendly whack.
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about."
"Oh?" I took a step backward, which was a big mistake because I literal y backed myself into a corner. Kyle wasted no time closing the distance between us, trapping me.
"I don't want to be just your friend," he said.
"We had an agreement," I said feebly.
"No, you agreed. I didn't agree to something I knew I wouldn't be able to do."
"You have to accept my friendship or nothing at al ," I argued.
"I don't have to accept either one of those options. You want to explore the possibilities as much as I do. You don't like this box you've put us in
any more than I do."
"That's not true."
"Oh? It isn't?" He ran a finger over my neck, just under my ear, like he did in the car earlier. A grin appeared on his face. "See? Your eyes just
glazed over. You love when I touch you."
I pushed his hand away, aggravated by his bal sy behavior, but he grabbed my hand and pinned it to my side. He pinned my other hand, too
before leaning in to kiss me. I pul ed my head back, turned so that he got my cheek instead. He let go of my hands and grabbed my head with both
of his hands.
I was pressed into the counter, with nowhere to go, and he had a firm hold on my head. I could have hit him, or pinched him, but why bother? I
probably would stil cave.
Kyle's lips were warm, his tongue warmer. When it was apparent I wasn't going to fight him anymore, he used his hands to pul me into him and
then held me extremely tight. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed back.
Minutes passed, judging by the numbness spreading through my lips, when suddenly Kyle pul ed away. Entirely. He backed away from me,
leaving me confused and
Probably, it would have served me wel to say no.
"I just have to stop at the bakery on my way home," I said.
Traffic eventual y eased and we made our way out of the city. Every now and then Kyle's fingers would lightly touch my hair or brush gently
across my neck. I didn't stop him or even acknowledge it.
"I'l meet you at your house," Kyle said when I was getting ready to depart.
"There's a spare key under that big rock in the front garden, if you don't want to wait outside for me."
"Cool. Now I can sneak into your house anytime I want to."
"Can you turn the crockpot off, stalker?" I asked, rol ing my eyes.
"Sure. Be careful." He leaned over and kissed the corner of my mouth.
"Okay," I said, flustered.
The bakery was half way between my house and the speed line. I parked at the curb while I ran in for bread to go with dinner, and a cake for
dessert.
When I got home, Kyle was draining pasta in the sink, with his sleeves rol ed up to the elbow and the top of his shirt unbuttoned. His tie was on
the table and his jacket was draped over a kitchen chair.
"Thank you, Betty Crocker," I said, pul ing my shoes off.
"Julia Childs," he grinned.
"I'l be back, Julia. I have to change."
I went upstairs and after some thought, I changed into unattractive sweat pants and an ugly purple tee shirt. Maybe if I looked a hot mess, Kyle
would be less likely to want to throw me on the floor and make sweet love to me. The thought of it instantly made me horny.
I sighed and returned to the kitchen where Kyle had set the table and poured two glasses of red wine.
"Nice work," I said, impressed.
"Thanks."
We ate dinner with quiet conversation. It was pleasant and platonic, and I started to feel that maybe we could pul off this friendship thing after
al . After dinner, we put the dishes in the sink and started on the cake, while standing at the counter.
"I want to talk to you about something," Kyle said after we finished the cake and had washed it down with the rest of the wine.
"If it's about the cake, I'm sorry. We can't always have my mother's cake, and I'm not a good baker. My cookies burn and my cakes are crunchy."
His mouth curved up slightly, amusement danced in his eyes.
"I'l let it slide this time," he said.
"What a friend." I gave his arm a hearty, friendly whack.
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about."
"Oh?" I took a step backward, which was a big mistake because I literal y backed myself into a corner. Kyle wasted no time closing the distance between us, trapping me.
"I don't want to be just your friend," he said.
"We had an agreement," I said feebly.
"No, you agreed. I didn't agree to something I knew I wouldn't be able to do."
"You have to accept my friendship or nothing at al ," I argued.
"I don't have to accept either one of those options. You want to explore the possibilities as much as I do. You don't like this box you've put us in
any more than I do."
"That's not true."
"Oh? It isn't?" He ran a finger over my neck, just under my ear, like he did in the car earlier. A grin appeared on his face. "See? Your eyes just
glazed over. You love when I touch you."
I pushed his hand away, aggravated by his bal sy behavior, but he grabbed my hand and pinned it to my side. He pinned my other hand, too
before leaning in to kiss me. I pul ed my head back, turned so that he got my cheek instead. He let go of my hands and grabbed my head with both
of his hands.
I was pressed into the counter, with nowhere to go, and he had a firm hold on my head. I could have hit him, or pinched him, but why bother? I
probably would stil cave.
Kyle's lips were warm, his tongue warmer. When it was apparent I wasn't going to fight him anymore, he used his hands to pul me into him and
then held me extremely tight. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed back.
Minutes passed, judging by the numbness spreading through my lips, when suddenly Kyle pul ed away. Entirely. He backed away from me,
leaving me confused and
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