Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Sterling
The stage is lit up, all four members of Barlowe crooning in sync to one another and serenading me from the stage.
Between their lyrics and the man next to me, it’s almost impossible to breathe.
We’re wrapped in a bubble, people singing at the top of their lungs, and life and heartache and happy every afters, and all I can think is how glad I am that I’m not here with Claire.
It’s a shitty thing to feel and a shitty thing to do, to compare Claire and Louis, but there’s no doubt in my mind that this is the moment when the last six months, away from Claire, is starting to make sense.
The concert is being held in a huge indoor pavilion, a makeshift stage in front of us, and nothing but bodies all swaying back and forth.
I shuffle my way behind Louis and wrap my arms around his waist, his back pressed against my front.
A concert isn’t an ideal place for conversation, but I feel our connection in the way our shoulders touch, the way he holds my hand, and the unmissable glint in his eyes when he sings his favorite lyrics.
In the bedroom, I know without a shadow of a doubt, we’re a match made in heaven. It was an unexpected surprise all those weeks ago, but now I’m downright giddy at what we could be.
I press my lips to his pulse, and I feel the depth of his inhale against my chest. I kiss him again and again, sliding the tip of my tongue up and down his nape.
Surprising me, he turns in my arms and circles his arms around my neck. I lower my mouth to speak directly into his ear. “You’re missing the show.”
He shakes his head, his moss-colored eyes alight with desire, just for me.
Louis kisses my cheek before moving his mouth to my ear. “You’re the show.”
Heat and electricity pulsate through my veins as he continues to kiss down my neck and up my jaw.
He captures my mouth in a searing kiss, and I’m both stunned and so very turned on by his initiation.
His hands slide up to cup either side of my face, giving him purchase to deepen the kiss.
His tongue slides between the seam of my lips, dancing and flirting with mine.
I press my hips into his, groaning at the way his length feels against mine.
From head to toe, our bodies fit against one another perfectly, and not even my favorite band singing could stop the magnetic force between us. Pulling back, his eyes find mine, our faces only a breath apart. His stare is loud, making his request, even without the words.
Take me home.
Pressing my mouth to his, I find his hand and slide his fingers into mine. It’s an awkward dance, but I hold him tight, my mind on a single purpose as I lead him out of the pavilion.
We stumble into the cool night, and I waste no time pushing him up against the side of the building. The silence outside is a sweet contrast to the amplified voices and echoes of instruments inside, the only things to focus on being our short, sharp breaths, and the cool puffs of air between us.
Out of necessity and desperation, my mouth finds his again, and the groan that rips from his throat wraps itself around my hard cock.
“This is crazy,” he pants against my mouth. “It’s crazy, right? All of this. You and me?”
He’s talkative when he’s turned on, and I’ve never loved the sound of someone’s voice more. Quieting his mind and his mouth is such a gratifying journey, that I don’t care how crazy and unexplainable things are between us. This is everything I want and exactly where I want to be.
My hand slides between us, teasingly, knowing we’re restricted in public. Despite the urgency that swims beneath my skin, I’m not going to risk our safety. I need to step out of this lustful haze long enough to get us home, but everything about him has me addicted.
I press my forehead against his, inhaling his air and exhaling my own. “I’m going to give you two options,” I tell him. “We can stop, and walk for a bit, calm our—”
He covers my mouth with his hand, his chest rising and falling as he catches his breath. “I’m going home with you now or later. You decide the rest.”
I stick my tongue out and lick the center of his palm, and he chuckles.
“Let’s have our first date,” I suggest, pulling back and meeting his gaze, knowing I’m not alone with all these feelings inside my chest. “Do you trust me?”
The question surprises us both, but it feels imperative to me that he knows just how much I want this, how important it is to build whatever this could be from the ground up.
My attention darts down, drawn to the way his tongue slides over his bottom lip. Slowly, I drag my gaze up his face, taking in his sharp, handsome features. He’s so put together on the surface, and yet it’s the soda-like fizz beneath the surface, ready to explode, that I feel drawn to the most.
“I can’t explain it,” he says. “Because logic and sense ask how can I trust someone I barely know. And yet the answer to your question is a wholehearted, yes.”
He presses his lips to mine. “Yes, Sterling. I trust you. Implicitly.”
His words fill me with a responsibility that I never want to relinquish.
I want him to trust me. I want him to feel safe. I just want him to be.
And in the same breath, I’ve never felt more like myself than I do with him. He fulfills a sense of purpose in me I didn’t know I was searching for.
The way our bodies had met and collided that night we first met was like they knew something before we did.
I want to take my time exploring that, for him and me.
I can see us, together, ten days from now, ten weeks from now, ten months from now; pushing one another, higher and higher, and falling over the edge together.
Everything about him and with him would be life-changing, of that I’m sure.
“Okay,” I say, with a renewed energy that is fueled by more than just lust. “Are you ready for the best first date of your life?”
Best and last first date.
The thought is errant but not unexpected. Not anymore. The pull to Louis is strong and forceful and fated. It’s inexplicable and undeniable.
He feels inevitable.
We feel inevitable.
His lips tip up in a smug grin. “I’m already on the best date of my life.”