“I was thinking about how strong your arms feel,” she says again, “and how you’d look, holding a child.”
My heart thumps hard, mouth going dry. “Oh.”
She squeezes my hand. “So no, I’m not immune to those thoughts. I’ve tried to imagine it now and then. For the record, I think you’d be amazing at that—being a father.”
I try to reply, but no words come.
“I’m not in any hurry though.” She hugs my arms tighter around her middle. “I’d like to be selfish for a few years and have you all to myself.”
“But if the idea should slide out of my brain and through my lips, from time to time…?”
“I wouldn’t mind.”
“Good. You’re right though. For now, we should just enjoy being greedy with one another.”
“Speaking of which—it’s my turn.” She nudges my shoulder and I obediently roll over so she can drape her arm along my ribs, bracelet tinkling.
Nearly every night we spend together, this is how she falls asleep. Since giving up my clients, I’m an owl struggling to adjust to a robin’s hours, often lying awake a long time before sleep comes. But I enjoy the time and this clinging sensation, the way her arm goes limp when she nods off, how the breaths warming my neck deepen. It makes me feel wanted. That hunger that was so rarely fed as a child, the one that made me parlay my looks into modeling, then prostitution. I need to feel desired, and I’ve always known it.
Caroly’s arm has grown heavy around my waist, and she tenses for a breath, dreaming. I wonder if she knows how like a dream my waking life feels, lying here with her, so far from my everyday world.
I shift, rousing her. “My turn.”
“No it’s not,” she mumbles, barely awake, but rolls over all the same.
I hold her tightly, nesting her bent legs with mine. Her hair smells of the lavender already come and gone from the countryside. Closing my eyes, I breathe her in and imagine the purple fields at the height of summer.
With Caroly close, I can imagine so many places. So many possibilities. So many of the things I’ve excluded myself from, for so long. I forfeited years, letting them pass me by in a haze of pleasant company, pleasant atmosphere, pleasant sex, pleasant distraction. A blur of squandered days and nights. Perhaps I won’t ever feel at ease, strolling down a busy city street, but at least I’ll experience every second of it.
“Beaux rêves,” I whisper against her skin. “And thank you.” For this moment and this place, and a chance to even be this way with someone.
She stirs, not waking.
“À demain. I’ll see you when I wake.” Tomorrow, and every morning after, for as long as I’m fortunate enough to call this woman mine. For as long it’s her hand, her voice, her smile, drawing me out of the shadows and back into my life. Come what may.
About Cara McKenna
Cara McKenna writes smart erotica: a little dark, a little funny, definitely sexy and always emotional. She lives north of Boston with her extremely good-natured and permissive husband. When she’s not trapped inside her own head, Cara can usually be found in the kitchen, the coffee shop or the nearest duck-filled pond.
Cara welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Cara McKenna
Backwoods
Brazen
Convenient Strangers
Curio Vignettes: Curio
Curio Vignettes 1: Coercion
Curio Vignettes 2: Craving
Curio Vignettes 3: Reversal
Curio Vignettes 4: Confession
Dirty Thirty
Don’t Call Her Angel
Getaway
Ruin Me
Shivaree
Skin Game
Willing Victim
Print books by Cara McKenna
Lessons in Letting Go
Off Limits
Skin Game
Stray Hearts
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
www.ellorascave.com
Exposure
ISBN 9781419944253
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Exposure Copyright © 2012 Cara McKenna
Edited by Kelli Collins
Cover design by Caitlyn Fry
Photo: Yuri Arcurs/Shutterstock.com
Electronic book publication December 2012
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