Chapter Sixty Rae
CHAPTER SIXTY
Rae
HIS LIPS ARE COOL, his tongue hot. The kiss is slow, warm syrup.
It’s different from before. No power exchange, no flirting. It’s a kiss. Just a kiss.
Except not. At. All.
It’s a kiss the way the Sistine Chapel is a painting.
Yes, it’s lips and tongues sliding together, but there’s more than technique involved.
There’s something deeper. Understanding or artistry, or a sensitivity that I’ve never experienced before.
Maybe it’s our connection that makes it so much more.
He changes the angle, licks deeper, and I’m slammed with lust. Only it’s not the adventurous lust I’ve experienced with him before. It’s not sneaky or taboo or oh-my-god-get-in-me.
It hurts. That’s the kind of want I’m feeling. Want that’s like pain because it’s from somewhere deeper than I’m used to, and what we have will be over at some point, and just knowing that feels tragic and wrong.
A little sound escapes me as I shuffle forward to get more. Grant urges me onto his lap, and then the lust takes over, bigger, deeper, more urgent than anything we’ve done, and I’m scared.
This isn’t just Grant the Grump anymore. He’s not just a sexy guy I share an office with. A Dom I play with. He’s this man. A little wild, a little nostalgic. Good at reading people. He has friends who love him and a heart of gold that he would never, ever admit to.
I’m shivering slightly from the cold, from his kiss. He urges me closer, and we’re pressed so tightly together, and this closeness doesn’t just feel sexy; it feels necessary.
This. Here. It’s what we’re meant to do.
Aside from what we did in the kitchen at work, I haven’t experienced this kind of dry-humping since I was a teenager.
And let me tell you, it is underrated. His hands on my ass, guiding me, his erection turning me on, and his mouth making me lose my ever-loving mind. That’s how it is when I come.
Out in the wild. With no one around but an owl, hooting from the woods.
I pull back, my pulse flickering at the back of my eyes.
“I love that.”
“What?” I pant, like I’ve just run a marathon.
“When you come. Each one is different. This time, you scrunched your face up, and bit your lip, and made this little noise.” His thumb swipes my mouth. I try to catch it, but it’s already gone.
“What kind of noise?”
His teeth flash in the moonlight. “You’ll just have to pay attention next time.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“Should I record you?”
“No. Absolutely not. I hate everything about my voice.”
“Really?”
“Yes. It’s like a foghorn.”
He barks out a laugh. “No, it’s not. It’s sweet. I like it. I… I love it.”
The way that word vibrates in the air between us feels like it means more than it does. I’m so raw from what I’ve admitted tonight that I bat all the feelings back and turn to humor for distraction. “Yeah, well, you should hear me sing.”
“Oh, I’d like that.”
“Actually, you wouldn’t. I guarantee it.”
“Bullshit. Come on. Sing.”
“Nope.”
Grant leans forward and tickles me on the stomach, and I attempt to roll up like an armadillo. He gets through, though, and tickles harder, which makes me laugh like a hyena.
Now he’s laughing, and I’m howling, and we’re sort of wrestling in the boat, and then, I’ve got no idea how it happens, but I go from ridiculous, teasing fun in the warmth of the blankets to holy shit, I’m about to fall in.
He catches me just as the boat starts to tip, pulls me into his chest, and uses his weight to counter the move.
“You okay?”
I nod slowly. Tears pop, unbidden, into my eyes. Ugh. I really need to stop all the crying.
“Hey. Hey, what is it? What?” We’re on our sides in the bottom of the canoe, and it’s cold, but his arm’s tight around me. The boat’s floating, the water just an occasional splash against the side.
“I haven’t done this since I was a kid.”
“Kissed in a canoe?”
I gently smack his arm. “Been in a canoe at all.”
“Are you, uh, okay?”
I nod. “I’m good. Really good.”
“I’m glad.” He puts his lips to my forehead and presses a kiss there that I will feel for the rest of my life.
“We should get back,” he says.
I snuggle deeper into him, in no way ready to face anything else but this.
“Breakfast at eight.”
“And then the daily icebreakers.”
“The ice has melted,” he growls, which makes me laugh again, and then he tightens his hold and makes this pained sound. “You fucking fell me, Rae.”
I have questions, but I wait. He lets go of himself so rarely. I know better than to interrupt what he’s about to say.
“What is it with you?”
I don’t dare reply. My answer’s definitely not what he’s looking for.
A shuddery sigh against the top of my head, a kiss, and then the press of his cheek. “I’ve never wanted… this. All of it. I’m not made for it, you know?”
I nod. Not that I agree, but still.
“When you’re around, I get this… this…” He lets me go long enough to thump a palm to the top of his chest and then pulls me back into his arms again. “It’s like a… Hell. I can’t even explain. Like a pain. That feels kinda good?” He shakes his head and starts to move. “We better get back.”
“Wait.”
He looks down at me from where he’s now sitting.
“I, uh… I feel it too. The…” I awkwardly hug myself. It’s the only way I have to show where the feelings reside. “The good-pain thing.”
“Yeah?”
I nod. “And I’m not a masochist.”
“We’ll see about that.” After a second, he smiles, helps me up, and shifts over to his seat. “Because you haven’t let me paddle you yet.”
We dock the canoe and go back to the cabin in silence. At the door, when I think he might kiss me good night, he just pauses and stares and then runs the tip of his finger down my nose to my lips. I kiss that finger. His eyes darken.
“Want to come in for a sec?”
We share another long look. I open the door wide and wait.
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”