She's not sure what's worse: his lips on hers or the fact that he still knew how to make her toes curl.
They were on this weird state of friendship where they hung out too much to be just friends yet hadn't taken the steps to make it anything official.
So he had stopped by after cleaning one of the pools. It was almost winter so she knew he'd have some time working on the whole winterizing process, which meant that he'd smell like chlorine more than usual.
He didn't so much today. She could tell, because he was definitely too close for comfort in a position that was all too déjà vu for her.
His damn jeans were a bit lower today than usual and he had actually worn a tank under his normal shirt to combat the slightly chilly weather.
He had arrived just when she had fished out her old Cheerio uniform from the closet and was trying it on.
A few looks of shock and silent exchanges later and they were where they are now: on her bed, making out, her in that damn uniform that she probably shouldn't have worn and him in just his tank and jeans.
His lips didn't taste like the wine cooler of last time's go. His hands still roamed as much as ever as his fingers left trails of fire against her bare thighs.
She could yell at him at the fact that he was coming dangerously close to her each time he ran a hand up her inner thigh, but she didn't bother. He hadn't made her feel like this in such a long time that she was making do with what he gave her.
He teases her too much for her liking, swiping his tongue across her bottom lip before pulling away and trailing kisses down her neck. His lips felt like fire against her skin and she was sure her toes were permanently going to become stuck like that.
She mumbles something that kind of sounds like a "don't stop" but she's not too certain if it's exactly that. Either way, he keeps going and those lips of his find hers just as he slips a hand under her skirt.
She's not sure what she's doing exactly when she reaches for the buckle of his belt, but he's not stopping her so she keeps on going until his pants are unbuttoned, too.
It's a fluid motion after that. His pants are down just enough and her underwear is removed so that it's no longer in the way.
Their thrusts are in tune with each other. He comes undone on top of her and collapses in her arms; she sinks her teeth into his shoulder to muffle the moans. There were going to be marks come tomorrow.
He rolls off of her, adjusting his pants as he regains his breath, giving her time to do the same. It's not long before he's laughing at what just happened. She's wondering why it didn't happen sooner.
Scooting closer to him, she presses a kiss to his unmarked shoulder. She turns his head to look at him and kisses his lips again, resting her hand on his cheek.
"I want another one," she whispers, tracing his lips with her thumb. "One just as perfect as her, that's all ours."
He nods, pressing a kiss to her thumb where he lays.
"You mean it?" she asks. "One just as perfect?"
"Yeah," he tells her, nodding his head. "When we're married and I buy you that house and furniture and maybe a dog."
"So you'll stay here? With me?"
He shakes his head. Her face falls a bit at that point. But then he leans forward and kisses her again.
"We'll run away together. Find a place to call our own."
"And then?" she asks, tracing his nose.
"I'll give you as many as you want. Promise."
At least her future was set. For now, she'd make him stay for dinner.