Even If You Don't Mean It

Part Two

Sy huffs with a smile and shakes his head as if in disbelief. You can't quite believe it yourself; to have him finally here with you, in the flesh, it's like a dream. He kisses your mouth again, just a soft brush of his lips before he groans.

"Christ, baby, I just wanna..." His eyes are scorching and he presses himself into you. "You're so fuckin' gorgeous."

His lips meet yours again. He's rougher now, and his kisses leave your mouth, trailing down your jaw to your neck. Teeth scrape at your skin, his mouth sucks, and you squirm in his arms, giggling as he growls into the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

"Sy," you half whine, half laugh.

Leaving you with one last nibble, he stands back. He draws his lower lip into his mouth and folds his arms over his chest as if he needs to deliberately hold himself back. Maybe he does.

"Damn, baby, look at you."

Looking down at your summer dress and bare feet, you shake your head and walk down the hall, past the bathroom and your bedroom, into the kitchen and family room. You glance over your shoulder and smile as Sy follows you. You're still a little rattled by his kiss and the anxiety that led up to today, but you also feel a giddy high and you don't think the smile on your face will fade easily.

"Want a beer?" you ask.

He nods, "Thanks."

Going to the fridge, you get a beer for Sy and a wine cooler for yourself. You open them both and hand Sy his. His eyes haven't left you once.

"Well, cheers," you say, lifting your bottle to Sy's.

"Cheers." Sy grins and meets your bottle with his.

You rest against the countertop while Sy leans against the island. Unable to take your eyes off him, as he brings the bottle to his lips and takes a sip. His bicep curls into a ball, straining the sleeve of his shirt as lifts the bottle higher, and his Adam's Apple bobs as he swallows nearly half of his beer. As he pulls the bottle from his lips, his tongue peeks between them, licking them with satisfaction before sucking first the bottom one, then the top one into his mouth. He is so effortlessly sexual and masculine, just watching him drink feels pornographic, and you hurriedly take a drink before he notices how you're staring at him.

"You're quiet," Sy notes.

Shrugging, you finally escape the capture of his gaze and bring your drink to your lips, "It's different having you here."

Sy hums, as if thinking about his response, "It is," he agrees.

You peek at him, his attention is still on you, and you don't know how to act. This new dynamic seems strange to you. He's so familiar; his voice, the tone and rhythm, is one you'd easily pick out of a crowd. You feel like you know him so well, but the man in front of you, the physical embodiment of that voice, is practically unknown.

"I like it though," Sy says with a grin, "Bein' here with you."

"Me too," You smile back at him then drink.

Sy puts his beer down on the counter and, widening his stance, opens his arms. "Come 'ere."

You hesitate. After the heated moment you exchanged in the entryway, you worry another kiss like that will send you both straight to the bedroom. Would that be a bad thing though?

Sy sees your hesitation and cocks his head a little to the side. You feel your cheeks warming as Sy softens his expression and lifts his chin in a beckoning gesture. "Come 'ere," he repeats, a little more gently.

Taking a deep breath, you step between his legs and his arms encircle your waist. He pulls your body close with a satisfied hum. Your body is a little stiff with anticipation.