8. Senior Year
Senior Year
LONDON
AGE NINETEEN
G od, I wonder if she'll ever understand how much she means to me.
Her body pressed against mine and our lips locked beneath a star-filled sky feels surreal.
If you asked her, she'd say she's nothing special, but ask me, and I'd tell you, she hung the moon and all the stars in the sky, and nothing has ever scared me more.
I told myself I'd never fall for a girl.
The only woman in the world who was supposed to love me unconditionally couldn't. How could any other?
I've never believed in things like marriage or the social constructs of titles, but damn it, if Laney Hart hasn't made me want to believe in the idea that perhaps those man-made constructs were formed not out of theory but lived experience and genuine, all-consuming, irrevocable love that can and does exist when you've found your person.
At least, those are the things holding Laney in my arms makes me think.
The tips of her fingers lightly caress my jaw, as her bubblegum tongue slowly swipes against mine, and I force myself to stay present, not to slip away, not to make this more, but when her hand drops to my chest, and she presses me back, stealing her lips away from mine, I can't help but growl and pull her closer.
I'm not ready to let her go, not when I just got her back.
Not having her next door the way I have for the past eight years has felt like a punishment.
"The music stopped," she says with a smile, her lips pecking mine.
I smile against her mouth. "I hadn't noticed.
" I kiss her jaw. "I was a little preoccupied," I add, trailing kisses toward her ear.
Her hand deliciously snakes up my neck, her fingers splaying through the hairs at the base of my neck, and my entire body shivers.
Laney Hart has no idea how much power she has over me or how much it takes to restrain myself from taking everything.
I nip the delicate skin on her neck before caressing it with my tongue and pulling away.
"Why did you stop?" she questions, her cheeks flushed and the skin on her chest sexily pebbled from my mouth.
"Walk with me." I take her hand and pull her toward the shore of the lake.
If I keep kissing her there, I don't know that I'd have the strength to stop.
I know what she wants. I want the same thing.
I want everything with her, but I have managed to hold out this long, and I don't intend to break now.
If we have forever, then there's time, because there's something I want more than intimacy.
"London," she stops in her tracks. "Is there something wrong with me?"
"What?" I turn back, eyes wide, not understanding the root of her question.
Palms up, she gestures down her body. "Is there something wrong with me?
We've been together over a year now, I've known you since I was ten, and you refuse to…
" Her eyes hold mine, and now I understand her question.
She wants to know why I won't cross the line with her.
I don't know what she sees, but I know, whatever it is, she reads it wrong, because she says, "Forget it," as she stomps by and sits on the shore where the grass meets the sand.
Kicking her heels off, she digs her feet in .
I give her a second, letting her cool down while I try to find my words. I don't want to tell her no, but I also don't want to tell her how I truly feel. I don't want to coerce her to say the things I need to hear to take things further.
"I'm happy, Laney. You make me happy. I don't need your body. All we share is enough."
Her gaze swings from the lake to mine. "Yeah, you've said that a time or two, but you've also said you want everything with me. When you push me away, it makes me feel like you're not being honest with me."
I shake my head, failing to find the right words but keeping my eyes firmly pinned to hers, hoping she stares into their depths and finds the answers without words.
I'm a guy with raging hormones, sitting on the beach with the girl of my dreams looking sexy as hell while telling me she wants to go all the way.
It would be easy to take what I want, but I can't give it back once I take it.
Her eyes narrow slightly, and I think she sees what I can't articulate, until she smashes that thought to pieces.
She's no longer seated beside me. Instead, she's on her knees in front of me, pulling her yellow, satin, backless maxi dress over her head, leaving herself exposed in nothing but a white thong.
"I want you, London Hale. I want you more than I've ever wanted anything, so unless?—"
I pull her by her hips into my lap, our bodies fitting together perfectly.
"Believe me, I want to..." my voice trails off as I capture her lips with mine, needing to taste her.
Her warmth and softness overwhelms me as her sweet mouth covers mine.
Her presence fills every space between us as I trace my hands along her thighs, and the electric hum from where my skin touches hers is intoxicating.
My breath catches as she moves against me, her fingers threading through my hair, pulling me closer and eliminating any space that remained.
Our kiss deepens, becoming more urgent—more consuming.
She's setting the pace, and I am a helpless fool following her lead.
My lips leave hers of their own accord, desperate to explore.
Her entire body breaks out in goosebumps; I feel them in the softness of her cheeks in my hands and the delicate skin beneath my tongue.
Her response to my hands on her body is hypnotic.
My mouth travels dangerously close to the curve of her breast, but it's not until I feel her heat against my groin as she subtly rocks against my hardened length that I find the strength to pull away.
Her lust-filled eyes burn into me. There's desire, but there's also hurt. She still thinks I don't want this.
"Maybe we should wait," I breathlessly pant.
"Wait?" she questions, her wild gaze studying every emotion that crosses my face.
I lick my lips. "Yeah, maybe you should wait for love."
I tried. I really did. My intent wasn't to lead her to those words, but she's so worked up, vulnerable, and exposed I can't be sure she heard them for the confession they are.
"Is that why we haven't gone further? You're worried about my virtue."
I'm quiet as I battle the tightness in my chest. Sure, I don't want her to say something she doesn't feel, something she doesn't mean, but not hearing it sucks.
Her soft lips sweetly connect with mine as her hands frame my face, and she says, "Don't be. I want to give this to you, and as for the rest…"—her hand rakes through my hair—"we can pretend tonight will never end."
"What if I don't want to pretend?"
Her eyes intensely lock on mine. "This isn't about what I want, is it? You're the one who wants to wait for love. Tell me I'm wrong."
"I can't," I admit as I close my eyes. I refuse to lie to her.
I promised I wouldn't keep things from her after she found out about my mom, and she deserves this.
She made a big move tonight, and now it's my turn.
She might shred my heart to pieces, but at least she'd know it was hers to tear apart.
I open my eyes, ready to say words I never thought I would, when she reaches for her dress.
"What are you doing?" I ask, holding her in place when she tries to move.
"You want to wait." Her voice is pained. "I'm not trying to force myself on you. I mean, I guess I am. That's what I get for taking Sydney's advice and trying to be someone I'm not."
"Hey, stop. Look at me, Laney." She pulls her dress in front of her breasts, shielding herself in a way that only fuels the storm already brewing inside of me.
I never want her to hide from me. "What do you mean someone you're not?
Are you saying you didn't want any of this tonight? It was all Syd's idea?"
"No, I want this. I want you. I'm just not the girl who makes the first move, but Sydney said girls these days make the first move sometimes, and I don't know…" she trails off and looks away.
I pull her chin back to center so her eyes are on mine. I take a second to take a breath and shove down the anger that comes from knowing I put the hurt in them. "I want this. I don't want to wait?—"
"But what about love?"
"If you're the one I do this with, then I don't need to wait." My heart is hammering in my chest as I wait for the moment my words sink in and what I just admitted resonates.
Her pretty pink lips part as her hands skim up my chest. "You love me?"
"I think I've loved you since the day you proposed at ten."
The sadness that marred her face is instantly gone, replaced with a smile I'll never forget as she swats my chest. "Shut up, I did not."
"You say tomato, I say tomahto. I don't think we'll see eye to eye on this," I tease.
Her face turns serious. "London Hale, you better mean it, because you don't get to take it back. If you say it. It's forever."
"I don't want it back." My thumb skims over her cheek. "I can't wait to do forever with you."
She smiles softly, and the gentle, unhurried collision of our mouths feels like a first. This kiss is different than all the others; it's still vulnerable, but it's secure.
It's found its home, and it's sweetened by the promise of tomorrow, and with her by my side, tomorrow feels like the best is yet to come.
She breaks our kiss, and I chase her mouth, not ready to let it go. She laughs as I kiss all over her neck. "Hey, stop trying to distract me."
"It can't be helped," I admit between kisses. "You're sitting naked in my lap, and I just gave you my heart." I kiss my way along her jaw before finding her eyes. "Promise you won't break it."