One Night Only
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be. I’m only here for one night,” she said. Her grey eyes watched him as he moved across the room, he plopped down in his favorite chair.
“One night only? Why do you even bother? Why do I even bother?” He clutched the crotch-seat of his boxers and shifted for comfort. She purred lightly, pausing to breathe him in.
“I’ll be back next weekend and then we can finish what we started.”
The cold air filled the room. They both shivered in unison — their hands frozen to the touch.
“I think . . . we’ve already finished what we started.”
She bit her bottom lip, it quivered from the pain. She hated it — he was right.
©2020 Tremaine L. Loadholt