Four Months

12. Forever

I jumped down from the counter into his lean, tan, heavy arms as he hoisted me up by his hands, pulling me into his torso.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, looking into his eyes, feeling the heat rise on our torsos that were touching ever so gently but enough that ever pressure point was pressed and it sent fireworks throughout my lower abdomen feeling him breath against me roughly.
His eyes carried it, the want.
He backed into the counter slightly pressing my back against it for support as his left hand moved from my waist and carrassed itself under my ass, as his right hand glided from my waist up, past my breast, around my neck into my hair.
In one motion he grabbed a fist full and pulled my head back guiding his blood-rushed lips to my neck, ever so gently he bit—."

"Babygirl? Did you hear me? I said how's your knee doing?" He asked standing in front of me rolling the white sleeves up on his iron-pressed button down.

I looked down at my knee suddenly "interested" as I stared at my knee flustered from the previous fantasy that played in my head. "It's good..." I replied giving a little shake to my leg as extra evidence.

"What's wrong babygirl? Your voice is so shaky, are you nervous?" He asked with concern building in his voice.

"No, no, I'm fine, my voice just sounds alittle scratchy today."

He gently grabbed my chin inbetween his thumb and index finger titling my head up to meet his dark hazel eyes that resembled a night lake today.

The weather was gloomy today, wet. Rain was forecasted for the entire week explaining the dark green iris.

"Tell me, what's going on. You're burning up and you look flushed. Are you feeling sick? You don't have to go to the banquet with me, just stay here and res—."

"No, no, I'm fine. Really. I just, I got nervous for you, and your speech. It's a big speech and I just want you to do really well, is all," I replied reverting my attention, drawing circles on my previously bruised knee.

"You know you can tell me anything right? I'll listen babygirl, I promise," he replied back still pushing because he knows what I said wasn't the right answer.

"I'm good, I'm good, for sure," I replied hopping down from the counter, grabbing his tie in my hands smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles. "You should wear these more," I said, tugging lightly at his deep red tie polka dotted with tiny burnt yellow dots.

"And you should wear red more often," he replied referring to a dark red, deep v-necked dress that fell in loose waves towards the bottom, about two and half inches above my knees. "Should I now?"

He slide behind me, his hands never leaving my waist— until he was behind me, head rested in the crook of my neck, lips almost touching my ear.

"Mhmm... you should. Especially the ones cut like this," his index finger moved up from my waist to my collar bone and his finger traveled in the space down my chest inbetween my breast created by deep, v-cuts.

I laughed throwing my head back slightly. "Why? I barely have the size to hold this dress up. I'm a disgrace to all cleavages around the world," I replied grabbing his hands and holding them around my waist.

"Mmm, sure. Whatever you say... grab your stuff were're gonna be late."

We intertwined fingers as we walked into the doors held by men in all black suits, that revealed a large, grand chandelier in the middle of the lobby. We followed the floor signs that led us to the banquet hall for all hockey players that played on Ashton's team, high school players who were looking to sign over there lives, and pros who were there to be apart of the "cause" and appear as role models.