The Captain and The Queen
“Hey, Captain?” she whispered.
“You know you can call me by my first name, right?”
“I know, but I like calling you Captain. Don’t you like it?”
Sweetheart, you would call me Shithead, and I wouldn’ t complain.
“No, not at all. I mean, no . . . it’s fine. I like it.”
Hopefully, one day soon, I won’t be so tongue-tied around her.
“Okay, good.” She sighed and snuggled closer. “Thanks for showing me around.”
“Sure.”
“And for not, you know . . . pushing me,” she said. “You’re very sweet.” She leaned in and kissed me softly on my cheek.
Feeling her lips against my cheek, ignited every nerve-ending in my body. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “I’m not that type of guy. You know, the kind who pushes.”
She pulled back and stared up at me with her dazzling blues. “Oh, really? What type of guy are you?” Her tone was flirtatious.
“I, uh . . .”
The way she looked up at me with her electric-blue eyes, shapely arched brows, and flirtatious smile damn near blew me off the bench.
“You, uh . . .”
And just like that, she leaned in closer, smiled, tilted her head slightly, and planted those pillowy lips onto mine.
Kissing her felt like I was caressing a velvet mitten or something. Her lips were full, rich, silky soft, and smooth, with a hint of Raspberry Snapple Iced Tea.
I knew it was my favorite flavor for a reason.
