Can't Go Home (Oasis Waterfall) (12 page)

“So then, will you help me decide which pizza joint we order from?” I ask.

“Pizza? No way! You promised me a home-cooked meal; we’re home cooking tonight, Pebbles.” Dre says making a beeline for my kitchen.

“Oh Dre, thank God. I didn’t know what we were going to do. So, you can cook?” I ask.

“Fuck no. Do I look like I can cook?” he questions, looking shocked. “I guess we’re just gonna have to figure it out together.”

Dre and I ate a culinary feast of shrimp-flavored Ramen Noodles and pretzels. He even decided to “kick it up a notch” and put slices of hot dogs in our noodles. Although it looked like the most disgusting meal ever created, it wasn’t too bad. There wasn’t a bite left of anything on either one of our plates, so we can therefore call it a success. Or so he claims.

“Alright woman, get this place cleaned up, while I watch
Sportscenter
,” Dre says, flopping down onto my couch.

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that, Your Highness, just as soon as I massage your feet and finish your sponge bath,” I reply, throwing a dishtowel at him.

“Just the words ‘sponge’ and ‘bath’ coming out of your sexy little lips is enough to send me over the edge,” Dre whines, shaking his head at me as he removes the towel from his head. Standing up, he takes my plate from the coffee table and says, “You grab the glasses.”

“Don’t you want more wine?” I ask.

“Nah, I don’t really like wine,” Dre admits. “I’d just rather have soda.”

“Then why’d you bring it?” I ask, rinsing out the glasses.”

“My buddy, Rory, sent it over with me. Said it was a surefire way to get your panties to drop,” he boldly admits. I look at him, shocked that he would admit that and not care about offending me. We’ve definitely hit a new place of comfort with one another. And in such short time.

I pull out the waistband of my jammies and look down. “Nope, panties are still there … haven’t dropped yet,” I joke, grinning at him. Dre laughs and smacks my butt. It’s fun being with him, playful and sexy at the same time.

Dre and I load the dishwasher talking about my job and the few odds and ends that he does around town. “So that’s it?” I ask. “You just do work for people here and there, and it’s enough for you?” I know I’m prying, but he seems too smart to waste his time fixing people’s chairs and swinging doors.

“I guess I haven’t decided what I want to be when I grow up,” Dre says, smirking at me, like a schoolboy.

“Well then, tell me about your family? About where you’re from? Tell me anything … ya know … that I can make fun of you about.” I say, hoping to erase the scowl forming on his brow.

“Well, are you sure? ‘People only ask questions when they’re ready to hear the answers.’ At least, that’s what I always say.” Dre grins.

“Oh for God’s sake. I’ve created a monster … Irving would be so proud that you’re quoting him … good quote by the way. But seriously, dish some goods,” I joke. “Tell me something good.”

“Not much to tell. I didn’t have much of a childhood. I turned eighteen, packed up, moved out, and haven’t talked to anyone in quite a while,” he admits, averting my gaze. “I grew up further north … on the east coast.”

Apparently, tonight was not the night that Dre Donley was going to open up and share his innermost secrets with me. I can catch on pretty easily. I know better than to try to pry things out of a man, who’s nowhere near ready to part with certain secrets. I can wait; I’ll wait until he’s ready.

Patience is a virtue that I was given an abundance of. Most people, men especially, are not like me. Men are private and impatient. I’m patient and an open book; I’ll share all and tell all.

Dre obviously isn’t an open book; he’s private and reserved about intimate and personal topics. It’s strange not knowing anything about the man that I plan to sleep with tonight. Yes, tonight. I can’t wait one more day; he’s got me all tingly and ready. Heck, when I was talking to Sydney today, she said that even
she
felt sexually frustrated and jumpy, all because of me—that’s a lot coming from a porn star. My sexual tension is becoming contagious.

I can’t figure it out. I made Theodore wait five months before I slept with him. I knew Kyle for almost 10 years before I had sex with him. And now, with Dre, I’ve basically been on three dates with him, and I’m crawling out of my skin just waiting for him to touch me, taste me, ravage me. Whatever. Anything. I’m game for anything at this point.

Once the kitchen is cleaned, Dre walks back into my living room, and says, “So, are you gonna give me a tour?”

“A tour? It’s a one-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment. You’ve seen it all,” I say, facetiously. “Unless you have to use the bathroom. It’s down the hall to the right.”

“Well, mathematically speaking, that would leave one other room I haven’t seen,” he says, grinning, pretending to count on his fingers.

“Really? That’s seriously the best you’ve got, Donley?” I ask, rolling my eyes and shaking my head. “I’d have pegged you for better game than the old ‘can I have a tour’ pickup line.”

“No really; it’s the best I’ve got. I told ya, I’ve never worked this hard, Pebbles. I wasn’t kidding.” Dre groans.

“So what? You buy a chick a meal, and she basically seduces you, comes on to you … just like that?” I ask, snapping my fingers.

“Pretty much, yeah,” he admits, as he puts his head in his hands. “This shit’s crazy. If I had to do this all the time, I’d probably still be a virgin.”

“Doubtful,” I laugh.

“I’m serious. This shit’s hard.”

“So ultimately, what you’re saying is that some bimbo would come up behind you … and just start rubbing the back of your neck … and running her fingers through the back of your hair?” I ask, making my way across the living room toward the couch.

Still not looking at me, he says, “Yeah, I guess.”

I sit on the arm of the couch, wanting so badly to reach out and touch him. I really want the courage, the chutzpah, to initiate this. I thought I could do it. But I can’t. I’m actually afraid he’ll turn me down. I know it’s a ridiculous notion; Dre’s been one giant flashing green light since the day I met him. I just can’t let go of my insecurities, no matter how hard I try to convince myself that I’m no longer pathetic Katie Howell, shy, backward, little girl. That girl still lives inside of me. She totally needs an eviction notice. I fricking hate her.

Still trying to will myself to run my fingers through his hair, I say, “So ummm, then what?”

Laughing, he turns to face me, and says, “Really? That’s all
you’ve
got Pebbles? I thought for sure you were going to be running this show tonight.”

“I wanted to,” I admit. We both laugh, shaking our heads. “I chickened out. I guess my sexy courage went right in the trash with that blackened lasagna.”

“Well now, we’ve got a problem here, then, don’t we?” he asks. “We’ve got one douchebag whose game is so rusty that it’s embarrassingly cliché. We’ve got a blind brunette who can’t see how incredibly sexy she is. Looks like it’s either not going to work out,” he explains, as he inches closer to me. “Or … or … someone needs to grow a pair and make his move.”

Just as he moves in to kiss me, I shove him back on the couch, and straddle his legs. Willingly, he lies back as I crawl up the length of his body until our mouths are inches apart. “You’re right,” I say, winking at him. “Someone needed to make her move.”

I lean down and kiss him delicately, barely touching his lips, but lingering softly and as excruciatingly long as possible. I’m breathing his air; he’s breathing mine. Every one of his exhales fills me as I inhale. Our eyes are locked on each other, staring intently, waiting for the next move to be made. Dre’s eyes are mesmerizing with every last hint of sexual desire and want. They’re saying exactly what I’m screaming.

“Thank God,” he mutters, breathlessly, and in one motion, Dre flips me over. He’s lying atop of me, our legs entwined around each other’s. I can feel every part of his body pressed against mine. The sculpted muscles of his thighs and chest are hard against my legs and breasts. It’s almost as if every inch of my body wants contact with his, begging for a connection.

Dre tangles his hands in my hair and kisses me hungrily. His mouth drowns out my moans as I allow his tongue to guide mine around. He’s in control, knowing exactly what to do to make me yearn for him. Pulling back, but not breaking contact, Dre eases our tongues out of our mouths. Kissing him in the open, feeling the cool air around our mouths, with the warmth from our kiss, sends a burning heat throughout my entire body. When he sucks my tongue all the way into his mouth, my pulse quickens. I’ve never felt such arousal in my life.

Slowly, we separate, and Dre lightly trails his tongue along my lower lip, and whispers, “Delicious.” My body ignites. I want him. I need him.

Dre kisses his way down, gliding his tongue along my jaw, working his way slowly toward my ear. Once he reaches my ear, he breathes softly against my neck, sending chills down my spine, and quietly says, “You’re so beautiful, Kathryn,” just as he sucks my earlobe into his mouth. I respond with a moan, wrapping my legs around his waist.

Kissing his way down my neck and over my collarbone, his hand finds the swell of my breast, while his fingers circle the hardened bud of my nipple. Dre delicately teases it through my shirt and bra.

“Oh God, Dre,” I say, encouraging him to continue.

Dre rubs his hands along my side, running his fingers over my ribs, toward the bottom of my shirt. He slowly eases my shirt up, kissing my stomach as he does so. I shift my body to help him remove my t-shirt. Dre leans back on his knees, staring at me hungrily, his breathing labored.

“Found the first tattoo,” he says proudly, tracing his finger over the tattoo surrounding my navel. “Ying-Yang? It’s so sexy. So hot.”

“How about I give you that tour now?” I ask sitting up. Dre just nods and backs up off the couch. As I stand, he pulls me against him and kisses me again. Dre returns to my ears, kissing and licking them teasingly, as I lead us back toward the bedroom.

Wrapping only his one arm around me, he sweeps his other hand under my knees, lifting me off the floor and carrying me down the hallway. “Where to, Kathryn?” Dre murmurs into my mouth.

I jerk my head to the side, indicating to the left. Dre walks into my bedroom, as his hand searches for the light switch. Pulling back from his lips, I say, “Just leave it off.”

“Not gonna happen, Sweetheart,” he says, still reaching for the switch. “I wanna look at you. I don’t want to miss one second of this,” he whispers. Dre kisses me softly, and says, “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than you.”

Once he turns on the light, Dre walks over to my bed and lies me down. I slide over to the middle, watching him as I do so. Dre whips his shirt off and drops it to the floor, staring at me.

Dre walks over, and I shake my head. “No?” he asks, looking hurt and bewildered.

Smiling, I say, “Your pants too.”

His face lights up, and he unbuttons his jeans. They fall to the floor. God, I love boxer briefs, almost as much as I love his body. It’s titillating how beautiful he is. His body is perfection, each muscle chiseled and defined. I can’t wait to taste every part of his body, every groove of his muscles. Dre’s messy hair looks like it’s begging to be pulled and knotted in my fists. I can’t wait to let my hands get lost in his overgrown locks.

Dre crawls onto the bed, sidling up next to me. Kissing my shoulder, he takes down my bra strap, trailing his tongue along my shoulder. Leaning up on his arm, he stares down at me and smiles. Then says, “I love the guy who made the front-snap bra.” I giggle at his appraisal.

Then, he unhooks my bra, easing the material away from my breasts. My nipples feel like they’re going to pop off my body if he doesn’t greet them soon. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he groans, taking one of my nipples into his mouth. I grab a handful of his hair, pressing him harder against me, urging him to increase his pressure.

Oh my, it has been entirely too long. Holy Hell, he knows what he’s doing. As he licks and lightly bites my nipple, his hand explores and tweaks my other breast, sending a burning fire straight through me.

“Dre … Oh …” I whisper. “I can’t believe it can feel this good. This is … God … so good.”

Dre pauses and glances up at me. “Pebbles, I haven’t even started yet,” he says, grinning proudly.

“Don’t stop,” I beg as he rolls his tongue around my nipple, and his hand slips into my pajama bottoms.

“Damn woman, no underwear?” he asks, biting on my nipple. I chuckle, running my foot up his leg.

“It was Rory’s wine. They must’ve dropped right off,” I giggle.

Dre’s finger slips inside of me. Slowly, he begins a soft rhythmic motion, in and out, in and out, sending shivers through my body. Leaving my breasts, his mouth finds mine, and he kisses me deeply, passionately, just as his finger finds that special sensitive spot. Dre circles his finger, around, and over, and around, and around, applying more pressure each time he touches me. My hips begin to move with the rhythm of his fingers as they glide over me.

“You’re so wet,” Dre whispers breathlessly into my ear.