Page 115 of Torn

I am hopelessly in love with Toren Grace.

Now that we’ve stepped over the line, I’m consumed withthinking about him, and us, and the past, and the present, and the future, andeverything. So much everything. My emotions go from being excited and happy to nervous and scared with almost no in-between.

He said we shouldthink, and that’s all I’ve been doing. Thinking, thinking, and even more thinking. And worrying. What if he decides that this can’t happen? Thatwecan’t happen? What if he decides it’s too much stress? Or that I’m just too young? What if he can’t face my father with the truth? What if my father has a major meltdown?

I realized this morning that I’ve worried so much about what his decision will be, and the mental torment that he’s going through, that I haven’t really thought much about myself. This isn’t just about Tor dating a younger woman, and him dealing with the possible wrath of his best friend. This is also about me dating a much older man and causing anguish to my father and to my family.

Can I endure that?

With Tor’s love and support… yes. I believe I can.

Blue reusable grocery bags are all over Toren’s kitchen, and Kitten has taken up residency in an empty one that has fallen onto the floor. I may have bought too much food. I’m not sure why I feel like baking a yummy apple pie and broiling up a filet mignon for him, but I do. I’m on a mission. Perhaps sex and love changes what you want to give a person. Or at least put in their mouths.

In more ways than one.

I didn’t get to see Tor over the weekend because he had to work on Saturday, and I promised his mother I’d help at the shelter bathing a few of the dogs. Yesterday he went riding with my father, which is something they do almost every Sunday when mydad is home. I stayed upstairs in my room even though I knew Tor was outside in our garage because I didn’t think I could see him without throwing my arms around him or making some kind of lust-filled face at him that my father might notice. I watched them ride off together from the window seat in my bedroom, and seeing his long hair flying in the wind behind him and the tautness of the muscles in his arms as he gripped the handlebars brought back the delicious memories of those same arms enveloping me in his bed.

The dog and the kitten follow me around the house as I straighten things up, start his laundry, and run the vacuum over all the carpeted rooms, which will have tufts of white fur scattered about again in less than an hour. All the while, my mind bounces like a Ping-Pong ball with questions. Does he want to see me again? Does he regret sleeping with me now that he’s had a few days to think about it? Was I painfully awkward and inexperienced?

Just as I’m about to start on the apple pie, my phone beeps.

Tor

How’s my Angel?

That plunging elevator feeling overwhelms me once again just reading those three little words, typed by him. To me. And that one tiny word in the middle makes my heart soar like a wild bird.

My.

I’m his.

Missing you xo

Tor

Are you at my house?

Yes.

Tor

I’m on my way there. Taking my lunch break to come kiss you.

OMG Really?! :-)

Five minutes later, I hear his bike roaring into the driveway. I wait at the front door for him with a pounding heart, holding myself back from running to him just in case a neighbor might see me. His long jean-clad legs carry him up the walkway quickly. He shuts the door behind him, his eyes locking onto mine with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on him as he immediately reaches for me, cupping his hand on the side of my throat and bending down to cover my mouth with his, slow and deep.Possessive.I wind my arms around his neck and hang on to him as my legs turn to jelly, threatening to let me melt into a puddle at his feet.

This is the best hello of my life.

His tongue sweeps against mine and a small growl sounds in his throat before he pulls away slightly. “I’ve been waiting three fuckin’ days to kiss you again,” he says with a soft, raspy voice. “I couldn’t stand it for another minute.” He rubs his thumb along my jawline and kisses me again, gently sucking my lower lip into his mouth.

“Ditto,” I say when we part for air again. “I thought you wanted to think…”

“I have been. Nonstop. I’ve been thinking so much my brain hurts.”

Moving my hands up from the back of his neck to cradle his head, I pull him down and plant a kiss on the center of his forehead. “There,” I whisper. “I kissed it better for you.”

“Yeah,” he agrees huskily. “You did.” His lips meet mine again and his hand grips my waist, pulling me closer to him. “You make everything better.”