This is happening. What am I doing? Should I stop?
My stupid brain ran through the laundry list of insecurities that never revealed themselves with Craig. Not once did I wonder if he thought my vagina was overly stretched from pushing four humans through it. Laxity of my labia also never came to mind until that moment.
Pubic hair.
Stretch marks.
Wrinkles.
Vaginal wall strength.
Thank God I had my own teeth and didn’t have to worry about my dentures displacing as his tongue probed my mouth. The fast pace of casual sex left me feeling a little off-kilter, three steps behind.
I knew how to date.
I knew how to have a boyfriend.
A husband.
I knew there was an order—flirting, a first date, hand-holding, kissing, bases to be explored multiple times before going all the way. And “all the way” meant something. It meant you were a couple if that hadn’t already been agreed upon.
Sex. Only sex. Casual sex. Get-right-to-it sex. It was all new to me. Having fingers inside of me before a first kiss. What was that? Who did that?
Kael Hendricks and apparently me too.
As each second passed, I lost all ability to judge Bella for doing God only knew what with God only knew who.
“You’re overthinking this,” Kael murmured as he worked his way down my neck, a faint hint of a smile teasing my skin between kisses.
“How do you know that?” I closed my eyes.
“Because your hands are balled at your sides instead of unzipping my pants.” He nibbled along my collarbone.
I relaxed my fists and fumbled, searching for the button and zipper of his cargo pants. “Should we go to my bedroom?” My voice trembled, sounding just as erratic as my fingers felt fumbling with his pants.
“No need.” He made tiny steps toward me as I moved backward. We did this dance until the back of my legs hit the sofa. That triumphant grin held strong as he removed his hand from my pants the second I unzipped his, and he hunched down, peeling my jeans, panties, and socks off slowly.
My hands covered my privates.
Kael’s eyes shifted upward to meet mine, his mouth a breath away from my hands. “What are you doing?”
“We really should shut off the lights.”
“Then I can’t see you.”
I frowned. “Sex is meant to be felt, not seen.”
“I disagree.” He tried to tear my hands away, but I locked them into place.
I needed to shave, but that would have made my situation down below more obvious. My laxity issue. The hair hid it, but I didn’t want his mouth near me with all that hair. I needed to at least give it a minor trim or run Meadow’s defurring brush through it. I shaved it during the summer for swimsuit season, but it was November.
Such a dilemma.
The overgrown bush or the turkey. Yes, turkey. A beakless turkey. The labia was the wattle and the clitoris was the snood. And who wanted to tongue a beakless turkey with all the lights on?
I might have been getting ahead of myself. He hadn’t confirmed his intentions. But his face was level with my bearded turkey, so of course my mind went there. The mind was a playground with drug dealers, child molesters, and psychopaths. Anyone who said they never had insane thoughts and crazy images once in a while was a liar. I refused to believe it was just my brain.
However, since I wasn’t a lunatic, those thoughts never left my brain. Kael would never ever know that my brain detoured in the direction of the similarities between my lady bits and turkeys while he seduced me. At that point, fajita didn’t seem so crazy or crude after all.
Kael pushed himself to standing again and rested his hands on his hips with a slow sigh. “This isn’t happening, is it?” He eyed me with expectancy. It wasn’t a rhetorical question; he expected me to answer. Amusement twitched along his lips, assuring me he wasn’t mad.
Just amused.
Had he been able to read my mind, that amusement would have been the snow kicking up behind the back tires of his truck as he sped away from the crazy woman as quickly as possible.
I eased my naked butt onto the sofa and snatched a pillow to cover my exposed bits. “Gah … I swore if I ever had this kind of chance, I would not talk about my dead husband. But …”
“But you feel like you’re cheating on him.”
I shook my head. “No. Not that. You see ... we met in high school. Back then, I was confident and rightly so. I was this petite cheerleader—strong, toned, thick hair, perky boobs. When the star basketball player gave me a second look, I wasn’t surprised. I felt worthy. And over the years, we sort of…” I chuckled “…aged and fell apart together. So the thought of you getting a close look at all of me just spooked me for a moment.”