Sunday, August 12, 2012

311. Flashback

When I felt his arm draped across me the next morning, I thought I was dreaming. I was afraid the heaviness of his arm across my hip would disappear if I opened my eyes. It had happened before. One minute I'd be laying there, his arm around me, our noses touching as we tried to gaze into each other's eyes without laughing, and the next minute I'd be alone in my bed wondering if I'd completely lost my mind.

I stayed completely still and begged my eyelids to find the strength to hold shut. I wanted to go back to that dream place with Cayden and the candlelit dinner, the ocean, the sand between my toes, cold water lapping at our feet, the long pier with the thatch roof under a bed of stars. It all seemed so real and so unreal I couldn't make sense of it. I wiggled my toes under the sheets and they still felt dry from the barefoot walk in the sand. I felt the weight of his arm shift and I thought he was going to disappear again. I squeezed my eyes shut to hang onto the dream and his hand crept lower down my hip.

The sensation gave me a flashback to another part of the dream. A dirty dream, indeed. His shirt was off. My lips and hands were trailing down his neck, his chest, his stomach. I remembered how pale his stomach looked under my tan hands and the way it shuddered in reaction to my lips. I'd untied his linen pants and pushed him down on the bed. I remembered just standing there for a moment, admiring the man in front of me in the tight black boxer briefs and the feeling of excitement at what was about to happen. I slid my lace panties off and kicked them to the side before I crawled on top.

"Good morning, baby."

What? I didn't remember him saying that in the dream. That's kind of a weird thing for someone to say at a time like that. My eyes fluttered as I tried to hold onto the dream, but I felt it slipping away. The dream was gone but the weight on my waist was not. What the hell?

"Are you awake?"

I let one eye peek open. I saw a tile floor, a couch, a sliding glass door. Beyond the glass door I saw a hammock and palm trees. It wasn't until I saw my panties lying next to the coffee table that I realized I hadn't been dreaming about Cayden, I'd been replaying the activities of the night before. I confirmed it by looking down at the slightly pale hand on my hip. It was real. Cayden was there.

I turned around to face him and clung to him, at which point I realized we were both still naked. I buried my face in his chest and wrapped a leg around him, just to make sure he wasn't going anywhere.

"I take that as a yes," he said.

"Yes," I whispered.

We stayed like that for a long time, just holding onto each other and enjoying the feeling of naked skin against naked skin. When you go four months without any physical contact, the lightest touch can feel like the most amazing thing in the world. And the roughest touch can leave you paralyzed in sexual satisfaction. A flashback of Cayden's hand entangled in my hair in a tight fist made me hold my breath.

"So, what should we do today?" Cayden asked, interrupting my erotic flashback for the second time that morning. "Drink all day under the sun or drink all day under the sun?"

While I couldn't go wrong with either option, I had a third option to throw into the mix.

"Or," I said, kissing the side of his neck. "We could..."

I left it at that as I trailed back down his neck. His chest. His stomach.

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