Chapter 20 #2
After finding the silk clothing, she has the decency to turn her back away from me. I bow my head regardless, distracting myself by picking at a loose thread on my jeans. Anything to get my mind off the fact she’s undressing just a few short steps away.
“I’m … I’m stuck.”
Holy fuck.
This can’t be happening.
I raise my head just a fraction to see her struggling with the zipper on the back of her dress, angel wings discarded on the floor. The lump in my throat grows quickly.
“Shall I—?” I cut myself off. “Are you sure—?”
“Stop being the gentleman and just help,” she grunts in her struggle to move.
I step up from the bed, approaching her back and ignoring each dirty, rotten thought that yells at me to strip her of everything and appreciate every divine inch of her. My fingers tremble on the zip as I pull it down, feeling the material give way.
She holds the dress to her chest, concealing her front. I teeter on both feet to relieve the friction of my cock stiffening in my jeans. Turning to me fully, she hands out the cream silk cami.
My voice is surprisingly calm for such an intense moment. “Arms up.”
Slowly, she drops the dress. In my peripheral, I can see the bareness of her chest, the light pink of her nipples, but I anchor my focus on the doe-brown eyes that are capable of ending a war.
She’s looking back just as intently, though there’s a glassiness to her gaze from the drink that still hasn’t worn off.
Christ, she won’t remember any of this, while I’ll spend a lifetime trying to get it out of my mind.
She lifts her arms above her head. I take my time, slowly pulling the top over her hands and down her arms. The material bunches at her breasts, and I pull at the hem, my knuckles brushing her pebbled nipples before it covers her.
I take a step back to distance myself. “I really should go …” I say, turning my attention towards the door.
“W-wait.” Her voice breaks the silence.
I turn to her slowly, craning my neck over my shoulder to look at her. She’s fisting the material of her pyjama top, her bare feet moving over the soft carpet. “Could you just stay? Just for a little bit.”
Maybe it’s the vulnerability in her eyes, or maybe it’s because I’m a fool who aches for her, but I nod slowly. “Just for a bit.”
She stares for a moment too long before sheepishly dropping her chin. Carefully, she holds onto the bedside table for support before slipping underneath her duvet, making herself comfortable on the bed. She rests back against the headboard as I resume my position on the edge, keeping my distance.
“Can I ask something of you?” she asks. “I promise it’s not like me to be so forward …”
I watch as she struggles with finding the confidence.
“Since my brother died, I’ve been struggling to feel … anything. Everything feels numb, and I need to feel again.”
This girl will be the fucking death of me.
“What do you want from me?”
“A kiss.”
My eyes run over her. She seems so small in the large bed, vulnerable in the way she holds the quilt.
“You don’t know what you’re asking.” I shake my head. “You’ll forget this happened—”
“I’d always remember you.”
If it weren’t for the way I saw her stumbling across the room mere minutes ago, I’d think she was genuine. Her voice turns quiet, and she pleads, “But even if I don’t … it’s just an experiment.”
Slowly, she comes closer, sitting on her knees with the duvet pulled into her lap. I still feel reluctant, though when she places her delicate hand to my jaw and turns me softly to face her, every bit of the man I am incinerates. I fear if she asked for anything, I’d give it to her.
Her eyes run over my face slowly, and I’m thankful the dim lighting and her drunken state will only give her a distorted image of this memory.
Her attention slowly drops to my mouth. I cup the side of her neck, encouraging her closer.
She lingers, the soft skin of her lips brushing against mine as she takes a hesitant, broken breath against my mouth.
“We don’t have to—”
She slams her mouth against mine before I can object.
She moves her mouth with gentleness and desperation. I fist the side of her neck, struggling not to push myself too far with her. As she presses her chest against mine, I feel the swell of her breasts, the racing of her heart.
“Please,” she begs against my mouth, bringing her fingertips up to my hair.
My tortured whisper vibrates her lips. “Don’t push me to my limit.”
She threads through the strands. “Please.”
Fuck it.
I drop my hand to the dip in her waist, grabbing the small curve of her side and fisting the silk as I bring her impossibly closer.
Yet it’s not close enough. I move my mouth against hers with urgency, tasting the vodka on her tongue, the strawberry lip gloss lingering on her lips, and just her.
I bite down on her lower lip. She gasps, willingly letting me into her mouth, which I enter with urgency.
Her hands are tight in my hair. I don’t realise her intentions until gravity shifts and she lies on her back, encouraging me between her thighs.
Whatever complaint was festering on my tongue evaporates as she breaks the kiss to pepper her mouth along my jawline to my neck, the tip of her tongue skating across the skin.
Holy fuck.
I grab her chin between my thumb and my forefinger, bringing her back desperately to my mouth to drain the sweet taste of her. She’s all I’ve ever craved, and everything I could ever want. I knew that before I stole a taste of her.
Her thighs wrap round my waist, her feet pushing into my back and pressing me harder against her. She grinds her hips upwards. I growl, sliding my hand underneath her top and squeezing her bare breast, thumb slipping over her nipple.
She mewls, her hand dropping down to my belt buckle.
“No,” I mumble against her mouth.
She kisses me harder, if only to distract me, as she continues her pursuit of pulling the belt through the loosest hole. It’s only when she slips her hand down the front of my jeans that I pin her hands above her head.
She separates our mouths with an audible gasp, struggling to catch her breath. Her lips are plump and wet, desperate to be kissed.
Her voice is strained, quick to defend. “I’d never forget you.”
“Trust me, I want to.” My hands flex on her wrists, desperate to ruin her. “You’re killing me here.”
Tears tremble inside her eyelids, and she blinks hard, wiping them away against her shoulder.
Throat burning, I promise, “If you remember this in the morning, then we’ll talk. “Okay?”
“Okay,” she whispers.
Slowly, I release her hands and sit back on my heels. Her chest shudders with breathlessness, her hair splayed across the pillow from where I tore my fingers through it.
“Can I at least have your name?”
I shake my head. “It’s a secret.”
“I’m good at keeping those.”
I softly laugh and climb from the mattress, retreating towards the door despite how aching I am to stay. My hand lingers on the doorknob, and I crunch my fist against it.
“If I don’t see you again,” she says softly, pulling my attention towards her, “then this was the realest thing I’ve felt in a long time.”
Her eyelashes flutter, and within just a few short minutes, she’s sleeping peacefully against the pillow, lips slightly parted and a steady rhythm moving her chest. I stare at her for a moment too long – far too long.
But maybe I’m just memorising her, saving everything to memory in case life tries to deal us different cards.
I promise, “I’ll see you tomorrow, and this time I won’t let you go.”