Chapter Fifteen #2
“Yes, and I stand by it.”
“Why do I feel like...” she begins but I stop her.
I stop her by coming in close, sliding my hand along the side of her neck, tipping her chin up and pressing my lips to hers.
And then I freeze. My lips stuck on hers, unmoving, I’m suddenly terrified I’ve forgotten how to do this. How do I kiss sober? How do I make it special for her? How do I make this more than all the drunken snogs and clumsy fumbles I can barely remember?
As if she can read my mind, she takes over, bringing her hands to cup my face, and lifting her lips a little before placing them back down on one corner of my mouth.
It’s an almost innocent but plush peck - like a blessing – and after an achingly long second or two she does the same in the other corner.
As if that was the key I needed to unlock something, my mouth falls open and I place her lush upper lip between my own, resisting the urge to immediately nip it with my teeth because of how full and plump it feels.
I so badly want to open my eyes and watch her kiss me - to watch her closed eyelids and get a close-up on her sweet pink lips becoming moist from mine - but I daren't risk letting any other senses in.
I want touch and taste to get all my attention, and they do as she brings the tip of her tongue out to lick my bottom lip as if asking for permission, for more.
I see now that the last one hundred or so kisses I had were rushed and senseless, they were a means to an end, they were a necessary starter before the main course. This kiss, this delicious slow kiss, feels like a 5-course meal with wine pairing, and our tongues haven’t even touched yet.
She hums when I release her lip and gives me a soft grunt when I find her tongue for a quick battle, only to pull away a second later. She breathes out a moan when I then suck in her bottom lip.
“Jesus,” I say, pulling back a centimetre or two to catch my breath.
“Don't stop,” she says, and her hands slide down my neck and come to rest on my chest, grabbing at the material of my T-shirt and pulling my body closer.
It's a miracle we only kiss, but that's all we do sitting there in a dark corner of a bar at dusk.
Even though my whole body - all of it - wants to touch hers and even though it feels like what our tongues are doing is obscene enough by itself, all we do is kiss.
It's only when I feel an ache in my back from stretching so far towards her that I think I should pull away, but I don't want to.
I still don't want it to stop. In the end, she decides for me.
“I have a question for you now,” she asks when she pulls back an inch, her forehead resting on mine.
She’s breathing heavily when I look down and see her mouth looks different - her lips plumper and pinker, their edges red from my day-old stubble.
If she wasn't putting her hand up to her lips as if to check them, I would just dive straight back in.
“Go ahead,” I say. She could ask me anything and I'd tell her everything.
“Can we skip dinner? Or maybe...” She rubs her nose against the tip of mine. “We can order room service to my villa? Later.”
“Later?” I ask.
“Yes, after,” she explains, still breathless.
“After?” I question.
“After,” Jenna confirms.
“Okay,” I say, processing.
“Okay?” she checks.
“Okay,” I say, agreeing.
“Then, let's go,” she says and she's moving – fast - finishing her drink with a hefty swig, gathering up her belongings and standing.
I move a little slower, so I have to jog a little to catch up with her as she charges out of the bar, through the lobby and onto the path to the villas, with only a few coy looks back at me behind her.
I take in the way her light blue denim dress floats out around her legs, and how she's maybe a little bit more tanned than this morning, and I wonder again about those freckles and where they are to be found on her body.
I stop briefly to check the time on my phone, and to see if Maeve has reported any blowback from my parents but there are no messages.
“There you are!” I hear a voice and I know it's for one of us. Luckily for me, it's an English accent.
“Oh, hey,” Jenna says, and up on the path ahead of me, I watch her turn to face her brother who emerges from the walkway to someone’s villa.
“Going back to your villa?”
“Yes, I-”
“Did you not get the champers I sent Lionel to give you while I sorted out this absolute ball-ache of a guest? Claimed his pillows weren’t fluffy enough.
I literally had to come and plump them up myself.
I can’t believe Marty O’Martin didn’t show up.
That slippery Irish cockle.” Jake puts his hands on his hips, no clue I'm about to walk into his line of vision.
“Hi, Jake!” I say with a broad smile on my face.
“Oh!” Jake startles. “Oh, hi!”
“Pretty sure ‘Irish cockle’ is offensive, but I'll forgive you,” I say.
“We're just...” Jenna begins but then looks at me with pure mischief, “... going to have dinner.”
“Oh. Should I make a reservation for you somewhere? In the resort or down in the village?” Jake pulls a phone out of his pocket.
Jenna straightens her shoulders. “Actually, that was a complete lie. Marty's coming back to my villa.”
“Oh,” he says again, the hand holding his phone falls to his side. “Yeah, I don't think I can help much with that.”
Jenna smiles and I laugh under my breath.
“Hopefully I've got this one covered,” I say and put my hand on the small of Jenna's back. Her shudder prompts me to curl my fingers and apply more pressure.
The heavy second of silence between us that follows is interrupted by Jenna smothering a giggle with a cough.
“Yes, well, enjoy,” her brother says and he's looking beyond us now, his professional smile and smooth forehead back in place. “Have a nice evening.”
“Oh, that we will, that we will.” I practically sing.
“Okay! Enough. That is my sister!” Jake launches forward with a finger pointed at Jenna who is still trying to hold her giggles in, possibly not helped by the fact my hand is now flat against her backside, my fingertips digging into her flesh.
I hold my other hand up in surrender to Jake. “I apologise. I'm just being my cheeky Irish cockle self.”
“Did you just emphasise the ‘cock’ in cockle?” Jake squints at me then shakes his hands to dismiss us, addressing Jenna as if I'm not there. “I cannot with this one. Good luck, be safe and for God’s sake, don't put bubble bath in the jacuzzi.”
Then he turns on his heels and heads back to the reception.
“Love you, Jakey! Enjoy your champagne with Lionel!” Jenna calls out to him, and before waiting to see his response, she’s off, her body moving away from my hand so quickly that I have to rush again to catch up with her.