Missed Connections

Missed Connections: Chapter 27

Chapter 27

How do I know you're not some curvy Norwegian housewife? I ask, hoping to provoke Blake into giving me a little more. After eight days, I've caved and answered Blake's last message, asking if the hippies chained me to my desk and he needs to come rescue me. Just knowing he's here helps soothe me—something I don't deserve right now but desperately need.

No reply for a moment. Not a good sign. Have I offended him? 

Then, Check your email.

The photo quality isn't great, taken with a webcam in a dark room, but the sliver of his skin I can see is still damp and he's wearing nothing but a towel clinging to his hips. A hand-written sign says "Norwegian housewife" and covers his abs. Damn. All that's visible is a very prominent bulge behind the towel. Damn.

Wow. Oh my God.

Him: Yeah?

Me: Mmm-hmm.

Him: You've seen what I'm wearing. Are you going to return the favor?

Man, I shouldn't, but I need a distraction right now. And Blake definitely fits the bill. I'm not wearing anything sexy.

Him: Can I be the judge of that?

My heart pounds and I bite my lip, but I trust Blake, so I angle the laptop down and take a picture. I send the shot of me in a tank top and panties back to him.

Him: Holy shit.

My face is going to start a fire. Yeah?

Him: You couldn't have picked a sexier thing to wear. I wish I was there right now.

My fingers fly over the keys, and I hit Enter before I can talk myself out of it. What would you do if you were here right now?

Him: You don't even want to know.

Shivers cascade across my skin. Oh, but I do. Are we really going to do this?

Him: You'd feel me standing behind you. I'd gently move your hair to kiss the back of your neck.

Me: I really like that.

Him: I'd kneel beside you and kiss the delicate skin just below your ear where it meets your jaw. Do you know that place?

Yes. Yes.

Him: Touch that place. On the right side.

I do. Then what?

Him: I'd reach down, and through the tank top, I'd gently palm your left breast. Are you doing it?

My skin burns, nerves hyperalert as though it's Blake's hand, not my own, moving to my breast. Yes.

Him: I'd run the pad of my thumb over your nipple, maybe use my thumbnail over the material to tease it until it's hard. I'd make it hurt just a little bit, then squeeze and release it, and move my hand...down.

Heat flows through me and gathers between my legs.

They're just words on a screen, but I'm already wet. And then what?

God, Sarah. I need to hear your voice. He sends a request for a voice chat and I click Accept, fingers fumbling like I'm drunk. I feel drunk.

"Are you there?"

Him: I'm going to keep typing, but I need to hear you.

I want so much more. I want his voice too, but I'll take what I can get. "Okay." My voice is barely louder than a whisper. I'm afraid to speak too loudly and shatter whatever this is that's happening right now. "Please don't stop." I'm afraid I'll chicken out, and I need this so much tonight, need to feel a connection with someone who cares about me. Life has rubbed me raw, and I need someone who treats my heart with delicate hands.