Free Inhale, Exhale by Sarah M. Ross

even realized my feet carried me there. I sighed at my pathetic behavior and placed the glass I’d kept in my possession all weekend next to her keyboard.
    Score another point for my vagina.
     

CHAPTER TEN

    Tuesday crawled by slower than a turtle stuck in molasses. And by eleven o’clock that night, I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned for hours, counted sheep, drank warm milk, and even tried reading my macroeconomics textbook, but nothing worked. My mind wouldn’t rest. It fought me like a two year-old refusing bedtime. I just wanted to sleep; my body was exhausted.
    When I finally did succumb to sleep, I dreamed about Christian. We were spending a lazy Saturday on a small sailboat out on the lake behind my Gamma’s house. It was a windless, sunny day and we were just relaxing and enjoying the warmth of the sun on our skin.
    His lips brushed my shoulder seductively, then nibbled my collar bone. My skin heated with each contact as I anticipated where those lips would touch next. Heat pooled low in my belly, and my muscles clenched with want.
    Nibble.
    Suck.
    Lick.
    Groan.
    When he finally reached my lips, I opened my eyes to eagerly return his kisses, but it wasn’t Christian who leaned over me. It was Grant.
    I blinked in surprise, but the change didn’t stop me. If anything, I wanted him even more. I kissed him with a hungry fervor and couldn’t get enough of the taste of his skin, salty with sweat. I scored his back and shoulders with my nails to drive him closer as he peeled the tiny bathing suit from my body. Droplets of blood trickled down his back, but neither of us stopped or even slowed down. We couldn’t get close enough. I needed to consume him, and be consumed by him.
    I woke up, sweat drenched and panting. There was still over an hour before my alarm was set to go off, but I was too unsettled to attempt sleep again. So I crawled out of bed, made an extra-strong pot of coffee, and took a long, scalding shower. Wrapped in a terrycloth robe, hair twisted in a fluffy towel on top of my head, I scrolled through my Facebook page for a while as I drank my first cup of black gold.
    But even after my second cup, I had plenty of time before I needed to leave, so I decided to curl my normally wavy hair. With the humidity of the Georgia summer, it usually was all I could do to keep it from becoming a tangled, frizzy mess. I opted for French braids or pony tails most days to get it out of my face.
    This has nothing to do with seeing Grant tonight , I reasoned. What else am I going to do with my time since I’m up at the butt-crack of dawn?
    When I walked to my car to drive the six short miles to Allegro, I worked to control my excitement about today. The dream from last night played on repeat in the forefront of my mind, making me wish I’d taken a cold shower instead. I hadn’t heard from Christian since our last text, and with Ava and Trish away as camp counselors for the next two weeks, this was the first time I’d gotten to go out since my shopping trip before I started my new job.
    I’d left a note on the kitchen counter, letting my mom know I was meeting new friends after work and not to wait up. Ever since I started college, Mom didn’t bother with a curfew, explaining, “I wouldn’t tell you what time to be back at your dorm, so why should I make you come home when you’re on summer break? Just do not drive if you’ve been drinking. Call me at any hour and I’ll come pick you up.”
    I loved the freedom my mom awarded me, and never abused her trust. I always texted or left a note if I had plans to stay out late, or not come home at all. My dad ground his teeth so hard I was sure they’d be nubs, but he never said anything about my sleepovers with Christian. Though sometimes, I’d hear him muttering, “She’s an adult, not my baby girl,” over and over.
    I stopped to say good morning to Connie before taking the long way around—avoiding the IT department—toward my cubicle. I knew it was