Chapter 15 Chryssy
Chapter 15
CHRYSSY
I practically float to the Dandelion and barely make it inside before I’m in Vin’s arms. He lifts me against the back of the door, his fingers gripping my thighs as my legs wrap around his waist. I slide my fingers through his hair as I pull his mouth to mine. I’m caught up in the melody of his low groans against my lips, each mmm introducing new depths to a song I won’t be able to get out of my head. His lips travel down my jaw and throat before he spins me around. Our movements are a whirlwind.
Vin looks from the chairs to the kitchen counter to the floor covered in books. None are viable options. I nod toward my bedroom, and even though the hallway’s only three steps long, it feels like ages to get there.
He lowers me gently onto my bed, taking a long pause to lock eyes with me. Vin’s dilated pupils are mesmerizing as they catalog my face, taking me in. I glide my palm up his chest and around the back of his neck, tugging him closer to me. I’m desperate for more of him, to taste him, to feel him.
Vin traces his fingers along my chin, and the roughness sends chills down my spine. My pulse transfers its energy into his hand, and for a second we’re connected by a single beat.
I peel Vin’s shirt off first, spreading my fingertips over his broad shoulders. He kneels over me and swiftly undoes each button on my dress, his nimble fingers never once catching.
I scoot backward until my head finds a pillow, my eyes never once leaving Vin’s. He lowers himself until there’s just enough of his weight on me. A Vin-shaped weighted blanket. At once I’m comforted and calm, wanting him in so many ways. Vin’s skin feels warm against mine as I arch up into him.
“We’re definitely overachievers,” he says in a voice so gravelly it’s rough against my ear.
I loop my legs around his hips and pull him tighter against me.
“No one could ever fault us,” I say between shallow breaths, “for not caring about what we commit to.”
Vin’s mouth pushes against mine, urgently but gently, like I’m sheet music and he’s reading me, determining how hard or soft he wants to play each note. The man kisses me like he needs air. It’s as swift and impulsive as his music, each note faster than the last. I slide my tongue against his, memorizing the way he tastes.
To counter the speed, I slow things down by kissing the corners of Vin’s mouth. The one that contains smiles both charming and reluctant. I trail my mouth down Vin’s neck, inhaling his subtle scent I can only detect when I’m close enough to him. A bubble of black tea, dark berries, and eucalyptus surrounds me, intoxicates me. I’ve carried the scent of butter and lavender with me, and our aromas fill the space.
Vin pushes up on his arms, distancing himself briefly, and I feel the loss immediately. “We’re always trying to get better,” he says, his voice thick with desire.
“Right. We care too much,” I whisper up to him.
His face hovers inches above mine, and in the span of a few deep breaths, he just looks at me. Really looks at me.
“I care about you, Chryssy,” he says, his voice shaking slightly. Vin’s nerves add weight to this moment. We’re as vulnerable as we can be right now, but even though we’re half-naked, it’s still not as exposed as we’ve been before with each other.
I feel safe and comfortable with this man. Like if I really wanted to leap feetfirst, I could. And he wouldn’t just catch me. He’d be right there jumping with me.
He sucks in a long breath before adding, “And I like you. A lot.”
I rub my thumb along his lower lip slowly, taking advantage of the extra beat to linger in this moment. My entire body buzzes as bliss courses through my veins, my heart happily working overtime.
“I like you, too, Vin,” I say, my voice coming out just as uneven. It dawns on me that it’s not because I’m nervous to say it or that I don’t mean it.
It’s because I do.
My real feelings can no longer disguise themselves as pretend ones. They’re as real as the flowers blooming in the garden.
Within seconds, the last pieces of clothing are on the floor.
Then, he looks at me the way he did when he was listening to Vivaldi’s third movement—like I’m his favorite song.
The next movements happen fast then slow, before picking up speed again. It’s the rhythm to all the songs I love. The ones that make me feel good.
“Is this okay?” Vin asks when a quiet noise escapes me.
“More than okay,” I say. “It’s just… it’s been a while.”
He nods. “For me too.”
“I want this,” I admit. “I want you.”
“There’s nothing I want more,” Vin says, a full smile taking over. “You know how I got so good at playing?”
“Other than being a natural-born talent?” I narrow my eyes, pretending to think hard about what the answer could possibly be. “Hmmm. Practice?”
A low laugh tumbles out. “Lots of practice.”
Vin presses kisses into the side of my neck that I feel all the way down to my toes. If this is what practice means, I’ll practice with him any chance I get.
And that’s exactly what we do.
We practice for the rest of the afternoon.