Chapter 7
SOSIE
Aheavy-handed confession like that doesn’t stall the momentum building between us. It’s only a matter of my back hitting his door under the pressure of our passion that has us taking a breath from kissing.
“You okay?” Keats asks, swiping a hand behind me to cushion me from the hardwood. He leans his head against mine as he catches his breath. But then he trails kisses down my neck, pressing his erection against me as his knee anchors itself between my legs.
Tilting my head to the side, I reply, “More than okay.” I’m breathless, trying so hard to keep from panting like a cat in heat in his hallway. I reach for the zipper of the coat, needing cool air to penetrate before I burn up. “I’m too hot.”
“So hot, Spark.”
I paw at him. “No, no,” I say under giggles that escape. “I need this coat off before I have a stroke.” Juggling the bottle in one hand, he grabs my zipper and starts pulling it down. “We should get you out of it, then.”
I burst out laughing, my head hitting the wood again, but this time, I don’t care. This man is stripping me, so who am I to stand in his way? “We should, but inside.”
He suddenly stops and looks up as if it just dawned on him.
“Right.” He glances down to the other end.
“Yeah.” Pulling a key dangling on a long string from his pocket, he unlocks the door so fast that I tumble backward inside.
Balancing the tray on my palm, I reach out to be saved with the other.
Keats catches me by the front of my coat before I land on my ass.
“Oh thank God. Nice save.” I’d heap more praise, but I’d rather get back to the kissing.
He flicks the light on as I steady myself, still holding the tray with a death grip, and look around the room.
The entire studio apartment is smaller than my bedroom.
I slowly turn to take in everything from his personal items to the colors he’s chosen for his furniture and decor.
Do guys care about that stuff? I find it endearing how nothing matches, but it somehow feels like him—warm and inviting.
I would choose this place over the pink palace of a cage back at my house any day.
Taking the charcuterie from me, he zips into the shoebox of a kitchen with it.
I can finally free myself from the confines of this puffer and the down filling the insides that felt like they were threatening my very existence.
Just as I unwind the scarf, Keats swipes both from me and hangs them on a hook by the door next to his.
“I like your place. It’s nice. Warm.”
“We’re lucky the heat is working. That’s not always the case.” He kicks off his shoes and pulls off his socks. “I’m going to change.”
“Changing sounds like we aren’t picking up where we left off.”
My heart skips a beat when he smirks with a look in his eyes that tells me we’re on the same page. He comes to me. Gliding the tip of his finger under my jaw, he steals a kiss. “Are we going to let that champagne go to waste?”
“No way. We dragged it across the city.” I slip away to grab it from the counter and hand it to him. He takes a long pull straight from the bottle. When he hands it to me, I swallow a gulp. His champagne lips cover mine, and we kiss like it’s the first time again.
Still holding the bottle, I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him to me until the bubbles go to my head, and I feel woozy under his kiss. His arms tighten around me as he laughs. “We’re going to fall if we’re not careful.”
“Careful is the last thing I want to be tonight.” I laugh as my tongue twists itself in knots. “I should clarify since we’re in a compromising position. I don’t want to stop what we’re doing.”
“I don’t want to either. The beauty is that we don’t have to stop.” He lifts me into his arms and carries me to the kitchen. “Leave the bottle.”
As soon as I set it down, I twirl over his shoulder in a fit of giggles I can’t contain. Standing back in the living room of this one-room apartment, he says, “I knew I shouldn’t have put up the bed. Wait here while I remedy it.”
I’m set on my feet to watch him unfold the green loveseat to reveal the foldaway bed hidden inside.
Cushions are tossed, and the blanket and sheets are straightened as soon as it’s flat and steady on the metal rod it has for feet.
Glancing at me, he asks, “Do you mind grabbing the pillows from the closet?”
“I don’t mind.” Finding the closet is a harder task than I expected.
He chuckles as he shoves the cushions into the space at the top of the bed. “Outside the bathroom, right over there.”
“Ah.” I get a glimpse of the tiny bathroom when I pass it in a tiny hall that leads nowhere but to the closet.
I don’t even know how he manages in that small space.
Looks like I could barely fit. When I open the closet, I grab the pillows on the top shelf, though I have to jump to reach them.
But I don’t rush off when I see stacks of books lining the floor next to a few pairs of shoes.
One shelf holds a couple of folded towels and a plastic bin of toiletries, including cologne, which is tempting to smell.
Though I know it will never smell as good as he does.
Two battered shoeboxes are stacked next to towels and tucked against the wall. One is labeled photos. The other is miscellaneous. Both intriguing and more so, because the boxes have aged, with yellowing around the ripped edges, and appear to have housed women’s shoes.
“Hey, Spark? Get distracted?”
I blink several times, snapping out of where my head wanted to travel before turning to him. I smile in reaction to the grin he’s wearing for me. “Yeah.” I close the closet and return to the bed to toss the pillows on it. “Is it good to go?”
“Yep.”
I sit to take off my boots while he crosses the room to turn out the lights.
I expect to be thrown into darkness. We are except for the little Christmas tree that I hadn’t previously noticed perched on a small bookcase in the corner.
I’m not surprised since I was big-time distracted by my Poet.
It’s shining bright with little lights, giving the apartment a glow.
My eyes don’t have to adjust. I can see him as he starts unbuttoning his shirt.
I get both boots off while he’s pulling a City Events Catering Company T-shirt over his head.
He unhooks his belt buckle, his eyes on me as I pull the sweater off over my head, then carry the boots to the door to park them next to his. “I like that necklace on you.”
I clutch the diamond tennis necklace wrapped around my neck. “I’d forgotten I was wearing it. This and the earrings.” I take my pants down and step out of them.
“They’re nice.”
“Thanks.” Reaching around to the back, I unclasp the necklace and reach to my ears to remove the dangling earrings, so they don’t catch on anything. I set them on the coffee table that he shifted to the side of the couch.
He catches me by the wrist and pulls me to him. I grab onto his sides as we lock eyes. I run my nails over the incredible hills and valleys of his abs and watch as his breathing picks up from the lightest touch. My lips part as my body demands more air.
He runs the back of his fingers along my arm. “Sometimes I have to convince myself you’re real and not a figment of my imagination.”
Goose bumps spring to life wherever his hand is, but it’s his gaze traversing my body that has me feeling his touch all over.
I lean forward and kiss his bare chest as I unbutton his pants.
He starts at the hem of my shirt and lifts it, leaving me heaving with anticipation of being with him.
I unzip his pants, letting them fall to the floor.
He steps out, taking his boxer briefs with them before aiming for the hem of my tank.
The built-in bra’s elastic catches under my breasts as he pulls it off over my head and tosses it behind him.
Now I’m bare like he is. My instinct is to cover myself, but I hold his eyes instead, letting his gaze drink me in without shame. I look to the side when it becomes too much. But he’s quick to pinch my chin and angle me back to him. “You’re so incredibly beautiful, babe.”
He slides his hand over my shoulder and along the column of my neck until he’s caressing my cheek. I lean against it as he kisses me—slow and steady—but the tease is too much, so I deepen it. The tips of his fingers slip under the strings at my hips and start to descend.
When he’s kneeling before me, his eyes track my middle and land on my hip bone. He rubs the pad of his thumb on the spot, then glances up at me with a wry grin. “I like this freckle.” He kisses it, making me smile in response.
Keats stands, lifting me with him. Our bodies are naked and pressed together as he moves us to the bed and lays me down.
I don’t scramble, forcing myself to stay out of my comfort zone for the payoff, but I do dip my legs under the covers on the far side from him.
When he climbs in next to me, there’s very little room to spare.
We’re close, so close we don’t take up the entire mattress.
As if we’re being chased, we kiss like time is of the essence.
Our lips caressing leads to hands wandering.
The heat of his palms on my cheeks, and my shoulders, and in my hair.
His legs rub against mine as I arch into him.
The need builds as seconds become minutes, and minutes slip away in the incredible feeling of our bodies being turned on.
A moan escapes as I shamelessly rub myself against him, craving more than kisses and sweet touching. “I want you,” I whisper, so ready for more of him.