18. Nora
CHAPTER 18
NORA
“Is it okay if you just… stand there?” I ask. It’s hard to hear over the pounding in my ears.
West’s lips curve. “Yes.”
“Like, stand perfectly still.”
“I won’t move,” he says. “My hands will stay in my pockets. How’s that?”
“Good.” I can’t seem to take a full breath. He’s right there , and I have wondered, have considered, what kissing him would be like. But it’s always been hypothetical. Theoretical.
I’ve never been in charge before. Never been allowed to set the pace.
“Relax,” West says.
“I’m trying!”
His lips twitch again, but he stays true to his word. He just stands there, his chest rising and falling with even breaths. He smells good up close. Like that cologne and something fresh, ocean and spring and safety.
I put my hands on his shoulders and have to stand on my tiptoes to reach him. He doesn’t bend his head much. Just a slight tilt forward to make it easier for me, but he doesn’t close the distance.
He’s letting me do this on my terms.
I’ve never hovered this long before, had this much time before the kiss happens. My eyes close, and I can feel the faint heat of his breathing.
I brush my lips against his.
It’s quick, brief. I pull back quickly, but he doesn’t follow. He stands stock-still, just like he promised me he would.
I’ve never, ever been able to do this before.
I kiss him again. Warm, dry lips against mine. It sends little thrills of energy shooting through me. West. I’m kissing West. He doesn’t move, doesn’t kiss me back. But beneath my hands, his shoulders are tense.
“This is so… interesting,” I say.
West gives a tight, huffed laugh against my lips. “Good.”
“Can I keep going?”
“Yes,” he breathes.
I press my lips more firmly against his. I tilt my head, and his lips move gently against mine. Just following my pace. Not pressing, pushing, invading.
It’s better than just nice. Heat spreads through me from that warm press of his mouth. I walk my fingers back to the edge of his shirt. Find the smooth skin of the back of his neck. The short strands of his hair tickle my fingers.
I pull back an inch. His eyes are closed, and he takes a deep breath before opening them. They’re a dark amber now, and when they meet mine, we’re closer than we’ve ever been.
His body is tense under my hands.
“Was that okay?” I ask him.
“Yes.” His voice is low, his hands still tucked into his pockets. “You’re doing so good.”
I wind my fingers through his hair. “You keep telling me that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“It’s not because I told you that I find compliments hard?”
His gaze drops down to my lips, and he swallows hard. “No. I wasn’t thinking about that.”
“Really? Maybe you’re just doing it to make my lessons easier.” I shift closer. Drawn to touching him just one more time. “Is it okay if I try again?”
His jaw flexes. “Yes.”
I kiss him more confidently this time. I’ve never realized just how nice this can be, when I’m fully present in the moment. To know that I can pull back when I want, deepen it when I want. There’s no hand moving to suddenly touch my ass, no tongue about to thrust into mine.
It’s just sensations. His warmth. His taste. His lips move against mine in a faint mimic of my own pace, and I lose myself in a way I never have before. Forget the expectations. My fingers thread through the short hair at his nape, and a tremor runs through him.
I touch my tongue lightly to his bottom lip. He groans, and the sound travels to my stomach, hooks inside me.
His lips part. Inviting me in, if I want to.
Maybe I shouldn’t, but I do anyway, because I have to have more of him. So I deepen the kiss. He’s hot against me, and when his own tongue brushes mine, it’s like something sparks inside me. Electricity, or maybe a crashing wave. Something that surprises and thrills.
He tastes minty and warm and like himself somehow. I trail my fingers down the side of his neck and feel the strong, fast pulse there. Is he affected too? Or am I alone in wanting?
I break off and drop back down on my heels. West’s eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them. My breath is coming fast, but he looks like he’s barely breathing. Like he’s made of stone.
I just kissed West Calloway.
Was it supposed to feel that good?
My body feels tingly, and my cheeks are on fire, and he’s looking at me like there’s barely leashed irritation beneath his skin.
Maybe he didn’t like it.
I know he isn’t interested in me, not like that. He still rejected me years ago. Boring. Last woman I would date. But I feel suddenly desperate to know that he enjoyed that just as much as I did. That while we’re not real, while I don’t want him and he doesn’t want me, at least I wasn’t alone in liking that kiss.
“That was… very good.” His voice is rough, like it’s unused, even though we only kissed for a minute. “Did it help?”
Right. This was practice. To kiss on my terms. “Yes. It helped.”
West’s jaw works. “Good. Just say the word when you want to practice again.”
“You sure you don’t mind?” I ask. He looks far tenser now than before we kissed. He was fake angry before, but now… I can’t read him.
“Yeah,” he says, “I’m very sure. When you want to practice, you practice with me. Any time. Any place.”
“Thanks. That’s generous.”
He chuckles. The sound is warm. “Don’t thank me too much. It’s not a hardship.”
“It’s not?”
“No.” His face transforms when he’s smiling. Comes alive, becomes almost hard to look at. “It’s not hard to kiss you.”
Oh.
Oh.
My fingers twitch by my side. I know enough of West to be sure he never says things he doesn’t mean. He’s the opposite of me in that way. Doesn’t hide, doesn’t obfuscate. There’s never any fake politeness.
I don’t know how to handle that information.
He doesn’t mind kissing me. He doesn’t mind kissing me.
“Don’t think too much about it.” The smile on his face dies. “I’m walking a fine line here. You want my reassurance, but you also don’t like it when guys want you too much. Right?”
“Right.” My voice sounds wooden, coming out between tingling lips. Kiss me anytime. Anywhere. “But I don’t feel that way with you.”
It’s meant to be reassuring.
Instead, the hint of a smile disappears entirely. “Good. Because we’re only practicing, right? For when you date after this. When you’re looking for a real relationship.”
“Yes,” I repeat. “But it’s good to know. Good that you’re not… that you find it… tolerable. Letting me kiss you.”
He looks up at the ceiling, and I can see his Adam’s apple bob. I wonder if he’s counting to three. “Don’t think about me,” he finally says, eyes returning to me. “Only think about what you want. Can you do that for me?”
I nod quickly. “Yes. I can.”
“That’s my girl,” he says, and the praise feels almost as good as his lips did.