Chapter 19 Harper #2
And he does, tugging just a little, reeling me in so our noses almost brush. Then he lets go, reaching out slowly for my face, cupping my jaw in one large hockey-player hand.
It sends a shiver through me.
His eyes are on mine, pupils wide, gaze much softer than I ever anticipated Luke Dawson would look at anyone.
“You’re so pretty,” he whispers.
I blush, starting to pull away on instinct, but he grips my chin slightly more firmly.
Then his eyes drop to my mouth, and my stomach falls out from underneath me like we’ve just done a loop the loop on the best roller coaster I’ve ever ridden.
His lips part like he’s about to say something else, and I hold my breath, waiting for him to finish his thought.
He does by leaning forward to kiss me.
I let out a breathy sigh as soon as our lips meet.
God, I’ve been thinking about this ever since I grabbed him at the diner.
Just like the sight of Dawson, it was hard to imagine the taste of him could be as good as I remembered.
But somehow it’s even better, like he’s gained potency by being untouchable for a few days.
His hands are busy unraveling my scarf, letting it fall to the seat behind me, while I shrug off my coat. The night air shivers against my skin, the heat of the car fading the longer we sit here, but it doesn’t matter, I’m on fire from the inside out.
Then his fingers are weaving through the hair at the nape of my neck, cradling my head to deepen the kiss.
I let out a moan. Unconscious, from somewhere deep in my throat.
I’m almost embarrassed—holy shit, I’m making out with Luke Dawson in his car and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced, hotter than anything I could have ever dreamed up—but he doesn’t give me a chance to be.
His breath catches, and he presses closer, tongue tracing against the seam of my lips.
I open them without thinking, and the kiss deepens as I melt into him.
All I want is to get closer. In one motion, I wrap my hands behind his neck and swing my legs over the gearshift so I can settle myself in his lap.
It’s an uncoordinated clamber, and he has to push his seat back to make room even as he tugs me closer, and I’m terrified I’ll accidentally honk the horn and wake up the whole neighborhood—but both of us are grasping for each other hungrily, too desperate for caution.
In the brief instant my eyes are open, I notice we’ve fogged up the windows of the car. Dawson’s gaze is on me, pupils blown, hair a total mess, breathing ragged.
I did that to him. Me, to Luke Dawson.
I bend my head to his again in something like triumph.
His hands sneak under my shirt, searing against my skin.
They bracket my waist, trace reverently around the curves of my hips.
I grip his hair a little tighter as I hear myself gasp against his neck.
No one’s ever touched me like this, and it’s overwhelming and exhilarating and I’m so exposed, like his fingers are reading dreams and desires I’ve always kept secret—but I’m glad it’s him.
We’re both fully clothed still, but it doesn’t feel like it.
Every inch of my skin is on fire. I press closer, my back arching, and the solidity of him beneath me sends a fresh bolt of electricity all the way to my toes.
God, if I let this go on much longer, we’re going to get busted for something really indecent.
Because I don’t know if I can control myself around this guy.
I let myself kiss him once, twice, three more times.
They’re long and lingering, but with more space between each one, pulling back and back.
He lets out a sad little sigh, withdrawing his hands from under my shirt.
I stay there on his lap for a long minute, my breathing slowing, staring into those dark eyes. It’s amazing how comfortable it feels.
“That was quite a first date,” I finally say.
He laughs, chest rumbling below me, and smiles a shit-eating grin. I know I wear a matching one. “Yeah,” he says. “Are you sure it has to end?”
Reluctantly, I roll back across the console and into the passenger seat. “This was… amazing,” I say, my face ablaze. Mouth dry, blood still pounding, I blurt, “But I also haven’t, um, done this much before? So I think I need to stop here for tonight.”
My words hang in the air for a moment, and my blush deepens from the vulnerability. As if everything we just did wasn’t wonderfully terrifying enough, now I have to communicate about it?
But it’s only a split second before Dawson says, “Of course. Whatever you want.” He reaches out for my hand with a smile, stroking my thumb reassuringly, and we sit there in companionable silence for a minute. Clearly neither of us is quite ready to say goodnight yet.
I barely even notice the cold.
An unknowable amount of time passes in a haze of hormones and endorphins and post-make-out peace before I remember to check the call I silenced out of pure, unabated lust.
Marissa. And she sent a follow-up text.
Um, Liv said you and Dawson were all over each other at Skate Night????