Chapter 26 #2
He’s familiar, his warmth and smell, the very size of him, yet when he sets his weight against me it’s like something pulled from my deepest fantasies and it trips a switch.
Immediately we become grasping and desperate.
His hands go up my top and I encourage him to take it off.
He steps back to pause, and I catch him smiling.
‘What?’ I manage, then realise I’m wearing the kind of bra that makes it look as if I planned this.
He draws his hands down my arms and up my stomach and over the ridiculous bra.
My fingers thread through his hair and tug at the roots; I didn’t realise this was something I’d been wanting to do, something that would make me feel like this.
We lift away from the wall, and I sense him guiding us to the sofa, but as impatient as I am, I know I can’t stay in here.
His eyes follow his hands as he pushes my straps down and I take his arm and pull him towards my room.
We roll against the wall till we’re finally there and I close the door behind us.
With the blind still shut from this morning, the room is black.
Cian lies on top of me on the bed, his elbows either side, caging me in, and I push him away to take off his clothes, needing to feel his skin against mine.
In the darkness, I can’t see him and it seems unfair that after all this time imagining how he looks, I don’t get it confirmed.
He pushes himself up a little and I grab back. Then he does it again in a way that makes me stop. Without seeing his expression, all I can go on is that we’re no longer skin to skin. ‘You’re not sure, are you?’ I ask, my voice tinged with anger.
‘What part of me is giving you that signal?’ He brings his fingers to my forehead and says, ‘I can feel you’re frowning.’
‘I’m not.’
‘You are. Stop thinking so much.’ He lowers himself to pull off my shorts, stopping to squeeze my thighs and then kiss them. I try to encourage him back up, grabbing at his shoulders, his hair, and he ignores me, instead pushing my legs open and planting open-mouth kisses on the insides of my legs.
‘Stop,’ I say.
‘What?’ he asks, his voice surprised and mildly amused.
‘Cian, no.’ I pull at him again.
He laughs, but comes up, bringing his face towards mine. ‘You’re not sure?’
‘That’s too intimate,’ I explain.
He groans. ‘You’re not serious.’
‘I am.’
‘You’re all talk. I’ve put up with your sexual comments for months and now you won’t even let me go down on you.’
It’s surprising to hear him talk this way, to say these words after being chaste for so long. His lips are back on mine, but not like before; now the kisses are gentle and barely there, like first kisses, when you’re not sure.
‘So just this?’ he says, as his fingers splay and run over my stomach, back and hips. I touch him too, though my hands bunch at the tension building inside me, especially as his hands press firmer, moving up where they never quite cup my breasts like I need them to.
‘Just this?’ he says again, while it’s still one lip to one lip before pulling away.
‘You’re the worst.’ I shove his chest away and, sensing him smile above me, tug him straight back, craving the softness of his neck against my nose and his skin and just everything about him.
I’ve never had this. I’ve never been so obsessed with a man before. And while I can and have completely lost myself in sex, it’s never been like this. Because this is warm, playful, questioning, desperate and like every other aspect of my relationship with Cian, it’s completely all-consuming.
I lie next to him and stare into the darkness of my room. I wonder how long we can stay like this before the realisation of what we’ve done, the absolute madness of what we’ve done, hits us. At every point where our skin meets, I’m too hot, yet when I shift away, I instantly miss it.
It strikes me how much I want to keep him here, to simply be with him after so long of nothing more than diverted glances, yet, as the endorphins wear off, I know I should have some grace.
I switch on the lamp and swing myself out of bed.
This is his cue to leave, if he wants to.
Yet he reaches over and pulls me back to the bed, encouraging me onto his lap.
With his head against my chest, he comments, ‘Your heart is going very fast.’
‘I’m nervous.’
He curls his arms around my lower back. ‘About what?’
‘This.’
He takes a breath. ‘This?’
‘Yes. About what it means. If it means anything.’
‘It means something,’ he says quietly.
‘It’s about sex?’ I ask, because I have the right to assume that.
Nothing.
How long is he going to leave me without an answer? It puts me right back in the zone of self-doubt. ‘Cian?’
‘No.’ He pulls me closer. ‘It’s not about sex.’
I can feel my heart now and I’m sure, as usual, my body is giving away way more than my words. ‘Do you know how I feel about you?’ I would never be able to say this if we were looking at each other.
He nods against me. ‘I wasn’t always sure. But yeah. Maybe.’
‘So why have you always pretended like there was nothing there. You’re doing it again now.’ I try to get up, but he grips onto me. ‘I’m not. Wait.’ We pull apart, so we’re eye to eye. ‘I’ve liked you for ages,’ he says.
‘You’ve liked me how, as a friend? As a friend you’ve not been sure about sleeping with? What?’