Chapter Ten #4
“I should warn you, you did touch me first. And you may be a good boy, but I am not a good girl. You’re kind of pushing my responsible behavior to its limit here.”
He did touch her first. And for once, he knew exactly what he was doing. “I’m not asking you to be responsible. I don’t … I don’t think I want you to be.”
Her eyebrow arched, and her legs fell a little farther apart, forcing him to swallow deeply. “You don’t think?”
This was it—his last chance to turn back. But he already knew he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Whatever hold Arielle Becker had over him was powerful and intoxicating; it felt like he’d been wandering in the desert for forty years and someone had finally given him a drink of water.
“I leave for Mexico in a week,” he said slowly, “and then it’s the Omer, which means no weddings.
That’s almost five weeks of definitely not seeing each other.
” The thought did not actually make him feel good at all, but that was something to deal with on his own time.
“And if we don’t see each other for over a month, this … thing between us—”
“The extremely inexplicable and inconvenient attraction thing?”
“Yes, that. It’ll probably go away on its own after that long, right?” Please God, let it go away after that long. It had to.
“I suppose. Especially if we find other people to keep us busy during that time.”
Okay, wow, turned out he viscerally hated that idea, but it was probably a good one.
The few weeks between Pesach and Lag Ba’Omer, when no weddings or any other celebratory parties were permitted, were one of the two quietest periods of his professional year.
It was exactly when he should have been focused on dating, buckling down and finding The One, rather than The One Whose Skin Felt So Impossibly Soft that he wanted to wrap his entire body in it.
The part about her finding someone else to hook up with …
he was just going to choose not to think about. “Yeah, we could do that.”
“So. If it’s going to dissolve anyway, and we already have a deadline…” She inched closer, then quick as a whip, she was straddling his lap, the creamy skin above her low neckline coming dangerously near his lips. “Maybe we have a fun last hurrah?”
That was exactly what he’d been thinking, but it was getting extremely hard to form words and thoughts, and well, it was just getting extremely hard, period.
He slipped his hands under the hem of her tank top, brushing the warm skin beneath, and when she lifted her arms, he slid it up, then over, and nearly had a heart attack at his new view.
He closed his eyes. “It would be really helpful if you were, like, ten to fifteen percent less hot. Not that I’m not grateful, but … it’s a lot.”
“My cups runneth over,” she said apologetically, with a grin that suggested she wasn’t remotely sorry for the way the sight of her in a satiny bra—perfect pillowy breasts practically spilling out—had short-circuited his brain.
He gave her lip a quick nip, intended as a response to her impertinence, and instantly got pulled into the taste and feel of her: chili-lime salt and silk.
He brushed kisses down her throat and over every bare inch of her chest, dragging his tongue over her neck to dip into her collarbones.
When his thumbs brushed her tightening nipples, she let out a soft moan that turned him feral.
“You know we can take this off,” she breathed as he scraped his teeth lightly over a nipple through the fabric.
“What a novel idea.” He sent up a silent prayer that seeing her completely bare from the waist up wouldn’t cause him to spontaneously combust. “Are you sure no one’s gonna walk in?”
“Yes, but my bed’s bigger anyway. Let’s go.” She hopped up and started toward what must’ve been her bedroom, then realized he wasn’t following. “Change your mind?”
“Not about this,” he said, gesturing weakly at the space between them. “It’s just, uh—I’m still pretty set on not doing everything, and while I’m sure you could talk me out of that in about thirty seconds…”
“Relax, wedding singer; I haven’t done everything and don’t plan to before marriage either.
” She turned and finished the walk to her room, unclasping her bra and tossing it behind her onto the hardwood floor as she went.
Weirdly, he didn’t know whether he was more turned on that she was half naked or that she was saving something for marriage, which was somehow even more discombobulating.
“I think we’ve both mastered plenty of other ways to get off by now. ”
“Mastered” was generous considering last night had been his first time ever doing it with another person, but he certainly wasn’t going to correct her.
He swallowed deeply as he followed the path to her bedroom, pausing in the doorway.
She was splayed out on her bed, propped up on her pillows with her long, soft curls spread out like a halo, wearing nothing but those tiny shorts he was reasonably certain he could remove with his teeth.
It was so much, he had to catch his breath and drink her in.
“See anything good?” she teased.
“Everything,” he rasped. “How do you look like that?” His gaze followed as she traced a nail along the curve of one breast, so idly he’d think she had no idea what she was doing if she weren’t watching him watching her. “You cannot be real.”
“Hard to find out when you’re still all the way over there.”
It was true, but he also didn’t know where to begin—both literally and figuratively. And he didn’t know what to tell her except the truth. “You are … overwhelming. I feel like I want to touch and taste and look at everything all at once.”
She laughed, but it didn’t feel at his expense; it was soft and almost … affectionate. Like she’d remembered this was all still new for him. It was a little embarrassing, yeah, but her surprising kindness about it helped. “Come here and kiss me. That’s always a good place to start.”
He couldn’t argue with that. He closed her door behind him and crawled into the space she’d made for him between her legs, forcing himself not to slide his hands up her thighs or brush his thumbs over her nipples, even as he ached to.
Instead, he homed in on those lush, soft lips and brought his mouth to hers.
The effect was like feeling a key turn seamlessly in a lock, his brain now a more familiar brand of fuzzy.
Kissing, he knew. Arielle’s mouth, he knew.
The way she stroked his tongue with hers, her little moans when he nipped at her lips …
it was all so good that it took him a minute to realize they weren’t rushing to make out in a bridal suite or maneuvering in a tiny bar bathroom.
They had space. They had time. They had actual privacy.
It felt like the kind of miracle he’d only sung about.
He kissed her jaw, her throat, her neck, inhaling the scent of her shampoo—tropical flowers, maybe.
Her skin there was so soft, and oh, judging by that noise, he’d found a very happy spot.
He brushed his lips over it again, swiped it with his tongue, and sucked it into his mouth, and was rewarded by Arielle arching off the bed, pushing one of those glorious tits directly into his palm, filling it with firm softness that felt like heaven on earth.
His gaze followed his hand down to her smooth, round, perfect breasts, tipped with gorgeous rosy nipples that beckoned him like a siren, as if knowing just how lost he was in this brave new world.
“So beautiful,” he murmured as he kissed his way toward one, cupping the other in his hand. “You are so. Insanely. Beautiful.”
Her skin took on a pretty flush, and he smiled around the nipple he sucked into his mouth; she would hate a sincere compliment.
“You are … so dressed…” she groaned, reaching for his button. “Things are feeling very uneven here.”
“Can’t have that.” Together, they attacked his button-up and tossed it on the floor, and she huffed a laugh when her fingers hit the next layer—his tzitzit—her fingers stilling on the white cotton of the fringed garment, as if afraid to separate him from it.
He smiled sheepishly as he lifted it over his head himself.
“Probably shouldn’t throw those on the floor,” he said, tucking it onto the nightstand.
“Fair enough.” She pulled him back down on top of her, the skin-on-skin contact spreading a pleasant buzz throughout his body.
He wasn’t particularly conscious of his physique, but the pleased sound that came from her throat as she slid her arms up his biceps didn’t hurt.
“You feel nice,” she murmured, as though reading his mind.
“So do you.” It was the understatement of the century.
The contrast of her soft breasts and the hard points of her nipples between his fingers drove him absolutely wild, and if the way she was arching against him in those tiny little shorts was any indication, she was feeling pretty wild herself.
He bent over to lavish them with his tongue, to suck them to impossible tightness, and the air filled with her breathy, responsive groans.
“Judah, fuck, that feels so good. I need…” She rolled against him again and again, rocking her hips into his and rubbing against the front of his jeans with abandon.
He was so obscenely hard he was afraid he was going to burst his fly right open, but there was so little between them already that he didn’t trust what he might do if more clothing came off.
It hurt and it felt amazing, and he was losing the ability to regulate his own breath, but he also couldn’t stop pushing back against her if his entire life depended on it.
Her nails dug deep into his shoulder and nape, her desperate moaning driving him to madness as he buried his face in her neck, tasting the light salt sheen on her skin.
He didn’t know which of them came first, only that when he did, it was hard and fast and phenomenal, and he was pretty sure it brought him closer to God.
“Sorry,” she said in a whisper-laugh as they caught their breath. “I didn’t mean to—”
He silenced her with a deep, tongue-sweeping kiss. “To paraphrase one Arielle Becker, not something I’m gonna need you to apologize for.”
“In my defense, it felt really, really good, and you were really fucking hard.”
“I was,” he agreed, kissing her again lightly. “And now I’m a sticky mess. You don’t by any chance have an extra pair of men’s boxers and pants, do you?”
She laughed. “I don’t, but you do know someone very conveniently located who does.”
“Not a chance in hell.”
“You’d rather go across town like that?”
“I’d rather go across town in nothing but my kippah than ask Akiva for replacement boxers,” he said, fixing her with a look.
“Tell you what—I have to do laundry anyway. Why don’t you go take a shower, and I’ll throw your boxers and jeans in with my stuff?”
“This feels suspiciously like you’re trying to get me naked.”
“Who, me?” Arielle fluttered her lashes. “I would never.”