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Better Late Than Never
-- EXCERPT: She needed coffee. She needed coffee bad. The sun was pouring into the windows, way too bright and cheerful. Carrie heard no sound of Manny, so she put on a robe and crept into the kitchen, as quiet as possible. She could see the couch from her little kitchen. She tried hard not to stare, but the sight of his bare chest above the sheet, his long black hair hanging down across it, made her gasp. It was just a tiny gasp. She hoped he hadn’t heard it. That chest! She turned around and measured the coffee grounds, her hands shaking slightly. There were tattoos on that chest she had never seen. She turned around and took another peek. He was stirring. She looked away again, back to the coffee. Oh, that chest! It needed careful study. There was just so much more of him now. He was so filled out, so much a man. That chest needed to be above her while she studied it. She wanted to feel him against her. She would press her face above his heart. His hands on her shoulders made her jump and cry out. He laughed. “Sorry,” he said, letting go as she spun around. “I was just going to say good morning.” He stopped smiling when he saw her face. She knew she was staring. She knew she was probably, as Emily would put it, pathetic looking, staring at that broad chest, so close to her, she could smell his scent. Pathetic in her flimsy, old ragged torn lace robe, full of holes. Pathetic, because she knew he could see her nipples beneath the lace. Pathetic because she could not stop her hand from reaching out to trace the lines of his bare tats. His skin was hot. So hot, so warm from sleep.
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