18: So Close

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Sweat-soaked and dotted with grass, Mia wore the most unflattering clothes

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Sweat-soaked and dotted with grass, Mia wore the most unflattering clothes. The sun highlighted her cheeks and long, toned limbs, but it was her black hair threaded through the back of a white baseball hat that did it for me. My dick ached to fill the gap in her thighs with those long legs wrapped around my hips.

The V-neck dip of her shirt teased a flash of skin all day. My mouth dried at the crease line between her breasts before she crushed shot after shot. The twist in her waist, tightening her curves and flexing her arm muscles, made more than her golf skills painfully obvious.

And that confident smirk. Damn, where had that been?

She deserved to smirk, since she kicked my ass on the scoresheet. What other skills was she hiding?

Mia felt like I was walking a tightrope. Not two feet off the ground with a safety net but suspended between two skyscrapers.

The question of whether those who attempted the walk had questionable sanity wasn't lost on me. The heights, the risk, the danger, or the thrill of conquering the impossible weren't for everyone.

I could've walked on the ground, many, many grounds, and yet, I was the fool gripping a giant pole and teetering one step at a time, toward life-defining, eternal glory on the other side.

Some days were too windy to attempt the walk. Fixing Mia's truck was a bird smacked in my face. Other days, I pushed a few cautious steps that wobbled the wire too much.

Today offered the most favorable conditions since I met Mia. She laughed, spoke with ease, and her smile was brighter than the mid-day sun hot enough to fry sidewalk eggs. Her soft, smooth skin was addictive to me, and I pushed my contact.

All her openness receded to wherever Mia went inside her head. Silence hung between us, as if I drove home alone. I waited on the side of the building until I knew if the weather conditions were right for another walk attempt.

Did something happen? Maybe she's tired.

I wanted to ask if she had dinner plans, but she slumped in her seat and hid her eyes under the brim of her hat.

Pursuit of a girl was a foreign concept, especially this snail's pace. Candace plopped on my lap and decided I was it. She was a quick fuck that never ended, but I fell for the small-towl girl with sass. Until I gave her reason to doubt our relationship, she was loyal to a fault.

Another man's hands on my ex, making her smile, and coming at me with some 'No hard feelings' bullshit, didn't bother me. Even when Eli cupped her ass in the parking lot, I was just irritated at a lack of general respect.

And I didn't need a knee in my nuts to drive home the realization of why I didn't care. I literally drove her home. One glance at the pensive scribbler in my passenger's seat verified why I didn't give a fuck what, or who, Candy did.

The star of my wet dreams shifted and picked up her water bottle. Mia's lips pursed and throat bobbing as she drank had me both parched and mesmerized. My cock twitched at a droplet in the corner of her smile before the pad of her finger swiped it away.

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