Next-Door Neighbour

Chapter 12: Kisses and more!

Valentina.

Caleb is waiting to get out of his room, run across the backyard and climb into mine. I am too. But we wait. For my father to be back home. I chew my nails with anticipation. Why did two days feel like two months without him? It's not like I am used to being around someone. I have lived my whole life alone.

There is something about him. Something different about him, makes me feel at home. A feeling I've never gotten from my blood. When near him, my heart runs a marathon and when I am not with him my mind runs a marathon thinking about him.

I see a pair of lights around the corner of the street. It's him. I sprint to the window. An old red car comes into sight, he cannot see me from where I am standing. I spot Caleb standing by the window watching the car.

A few seconds later I hear the front door open, my ears are pressed against my bedroom door. He does his usual routine. He is carrying a brown paper bag in his one hand and takeout in another. He sets them both on the dining table. He turns on the television and flips through the channels until he finds something that he can watch. He takes out a bottle of water from the refrigerator and takes a swig straight from the bottle. Sometimes he likes to freshen, and wash out the sweat. And sometimes he takes his usual seat on the sofa, drinks and eats until he is passed out. And there are a few other times when he returns home in a bad mood and decides to torture me.

Today, he decides to freshen up. I hear him open the door to his bedroom. A few minutes later I hear a trail of footsteps walking into the living room. I've already locked my bedroom door. I walk to the window with my phone and text Caleb.

I see the lights turn off in his bedroom. He climbs out of his window and makes his way. I take a quick look at my reflection in the mirror. I'm not wearing any makeup. I don't need any. He has already seen my scars. I'm wearing my cute pyjama shorts with daisies and a loose-fitted t-shirt. I run a hand in my hair and smile.

Who am I turning into? Dressing up to make out with a guy in your bedroom? That's something I never imagined even in my dreams.

A few seconds later I hear soft knocks on my window. I take a quick look at my bedroom and let him in. He smells amazing. His hair is still wet and his t-shit is sticking to his body. I bite away my smile. He showered just before coming here.

I want to throw myself on him and shower him with my kisses. I want him to carry me over to my bed and do things to me that would blur my thoughts and make my toes curl. But I don't do it. Instead, I motion for him to sit on the bed while I take a seat on the chair.

"How was the trip?"

He swallows like he is holding himself back. I wait for his reply, "It was good," I see the roll in his throat when he says that. Right now, every single thing he does is tempting me to rip off his clothes and everything inside me is fighting to hold the urge to do it. I don't act. I wait for him to initiate. It's torture. I want to end it.

We lock our eyes and with that, I know what he is thinking. It's the same thing that is going on in my mind. I push away from my seat and he gets on his feet. With two swift moves I'm in his arms, his hands all over me, his scent surrounding me, and his tongue inside my mouth discovering places, sending tingles all over my body.

We cling to each other's bodies while we kiss. Our kiss is hungry, and desperate, making my stomach churn with his every pull. It's fast. Head spinning. It's like running a long marathon. It's always like this when I kiss him. My hip hits the table making a soft thud sound.

I shouldn't be making any noise. We break the kiss and catch our breaths. "Sorry," he mutters. I nod and smile. He gently lifts me and places me on the table. He stands between my legs while he kisses me gently. His kisses are gentle this time. Slow. More sensual than the hurried ones.