Shelby #2
“You okay?” He asked, his voice cutting through my renewed jealousy.
“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” I was not going to be sharing that piece of information.
“Your nails are digging into me like you’re mad,” he said.
“Sorry,” I breathed, rolling my shoulders and recommencing with a lighter touch. “Is this okay?”
He nodded, his blue tongue darting out to moisten his lips and I took it as my cue to transition to his head, smoothing circles through his hair.
“I read an article about how the physical touch of someone you trust can lower your overall cortisol levels.”
His eyes fluttered closed, his hands dropping to his thighs as he visibly relaxed.
“I haven’t tested this theory, but I would be willing to bet it’s accurate.
It strengthens your bond, helps your body fight illness and boosts blood flow.
” He didn’t speak but I could see the movement of his eyes behind his closed lids, his breathing even.
The cocktails were well and truly floating through my system, the emotions of the day making my body more receptive to the lulling elements of the liquor.
I dared to rake my nails down the sides of his face and neck, pressing more firmly on his shoulders and a set of traps which were wasted if he didn’t let anyone touch them.
I felt the rumble from within him and it sent a subsequent shiver down my own spine.
“Maybe that’s why I love touching so much.
Because the increased oxytocin releases those hormones we all love so much.
” I paused, reaching for my drink and taking a sip before glancing back to find him watching me, a flicker of something unspoken crossing his face.
“Your mouth is blue,” he noted, while I watched the movement of his lips as he spoke, the dark stubble which he hadn’t shaved since we left High Tea & Co . and what I suspected was the same colour to mine, lining that pillow like mouth.
I smiled. “So is yours, Corbin Chambers.” His lips quivered into a grin .
“I never feel as peaceful as I do when I’m with you,” he admitted and my hands stilled for the slightest moment at the insight into the ever-quiet mind of my friend. My friend, who I wanted to kiss.
Did he feel the bubbling tension simmering between us too?
The restless dance beneath his shuttered lids, told me he was aware of the brush of my skin, but did it make him ache, or was I just three-drink Shelby?
The trail of my eyes examining the beauty of this simplistic, very loveable man, translated in goosebumps erupting across my skin.
I was always so responsive to his presence and I knew if I didn’t swallow my nerves and act, I would regret letting this moment pass.
Because I wanted to just be and with Mum’s, What Happens in Lagoon Stays in Lagoon on repeat in my head, I stepped a little closer and brought my hands down to the top of his chest, daring to feel the racing of his heart.
In response, he moved his hands from the top of his own thighs and grabbed the back of mine, sparking my entire body to life. His eyes opened meeting my own – every line on his face drawn tight with restraint. His grip was firm and unmoving, his face begging an unasked question.
Being on the road together with no interruptions had given me time to study him.
Learn the nuances I wasn’t privy to when we lived on opposite sides of the world and I knew now he was fighting an internal struggle.
The clenching of his jaw, the slight part to his lips like he wanted to say something, do something, but couldn’t.
He was teetering on the edge of what he wanted and what he thought was the right thing to do.
But I’d already decided and unless he stopped me, I was laying all my cards on the table.
“Can I kiss your Iridescent Indigo painted mouth?” My voice was soft, my words undeniably heated.
A smile twisted on his blue tinged lips and the epiphany flashed in my head like a neon sign .
I was his.
Not just to kiss me while we danced or for a ten for ten – well I wanted that too – but I wanted all of him and he had my heart like no other.
I’d long ago buried the parts of me that wanted that connection with someone else, maintaining that if I wasn’t in desperate need of some physicality, I would be fine.
But spending the last month on the road with him made me realise how empty I was.
How my life was lacking in the most important ways and I wasn’t going to find that ignoring the gaping hole of loneliness.
He’d supported me every single day and I wouldn’t ever want anyone else.
“It would be weird if you didn’t,” he said more to my mouth than anything else. Yet I didn’t move, suddenly nervous.
I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to lean in and wrap myself around him but I was suddenly shy. Cautious.
Sensing my hesitation, he placed pressure on the back of my thighs, pulling me forward into the gap between his spread legs and tilted his head up to me.
The cacophony of conversations around us was reduced to mumblings as the room started and ended with him.
The earthy tones to his brows and his dark lashes which framed the green of those eyes.
And that mouth with those kissable lips I’d thought about more than once over the last few days.
They were calling me to feel the tenderness of their embrace.
Begging me to bite, lick and suck on them while I slid nails across his short hair.
He grazed his fingers along the bare skin of my thigh, moving under the fabric of my cotton dress before raking back down.
My body clenched tight, a shiver coursing through me under his heated proximity.
But the whole time his eyes never left my face – gauging my response to the things he was doing.
We were inches apart, my hands gliding across the thin cotton fabric of his shirt and around his neck, a small sigh escaping my throat when my body finally pressed into his and he squeezed my legs tight .
“My body remembers you,” I breathed, his wide eyes snapping to mine.
He made me so hot, so desperate, I spoke with no filter. My chest rose and fell, the hunger in his gaze, dark and unwavering. The slight twitch of his mouth told me he was holding something back and I wished I could walk that confession back.
He was the ultimate gentleman. My friend and my protector.
He made me feel wealthy. Not financially, but emotionally and I ached for him in a way I never realised.
I’d often sought him out over the years even if it was just to check-in, knowing he would always answer my messages regardless of the time difference.
He was the one I clung to when Mum was initially diagnosed and then again years later when she was re-diagnosed.
It was him I longed for when I didn’t have a date for prom and again when I discovered my first boyfriend had been cheating on me.
It was always him.
Mentally slapping myself, I mustered the courage to apologise for crossing a line or ruining the moment.
These were things I never shared with anyone, especially him.
I didn’t know why this triggered him but there was nothing I wanted less than to ruin my friendship with Corbin – my only friendship if I was entirely honest with myself – but before I could, his hands were on my face and his lips crashed against mine.
It was my turn to still, the unexpectedness completely bamboozling me and it took a second for my body to catch up, his tongue demanding entrance into my mouth before I even had a chance to respond.
Friendship be damned. This was what I wanted and I melted into a puddle, softening into his arms, moulding myself to him.
The man could kiss, soft yet driven with passion and with his hand tenderly brushing my hair back, his thighs firmly holding me to him and his tongue assaulting my mouth in the best of ways, I could die a happy woman.
He tasted like the blueberry cocktail we’d shared and it was somehow sweeter on his tongue .
If I wasn’t drunk before, I was now.
“We need to stop,” his voice was rough. Throaty with restraint.
“Eh, what’s a little public indecency,” I teased, biting at his jaw as he chuckled.
“You like the idea of being watched?” He asked, a devilish grin splitting his face and I felt my cheeks flush.
Did I?
“Maybe not watched,” I replied unconvincingly.
"Come on, Canada,” he chuckled, throwing some money on the bar and taking my hand in his before dragging me from where we sat. “I need you alone.”
When his confession hit my ears, I stopped any form of resistance and picked up the pace. My body thrived under his touch, pulsated with need and the discipline it took not to touch him every single second, evaporated. Because I no longer cared. I was done fighting the compulsion to stay away.
The second we stepped outside and onto the street I was back on him, pressing up onto my toes and pulling him down to my mouth.
His response was instantaneous and he not only matched my heat but amplified it until we were an inferno.
I could feel him harden against me and it only exacerbated my starvation until I was panting into his mouth.
Again, with a level of restraint I lacked, he pulled me towards his truck and buckled me in before racing around to the driver’s side.
Even in the moonlight, I could see the way his tongue darted out to moisten his swollen lips. The way he checked his revision mirrors before exiting the car park and jumping onto the main drag.
I leant across the console and stroked his thigh, teasingly moving higher and higher with each upward stroke. He was rigid, his chest rising and falling rapidly, the noticeable bulge of his groin making me ache.
Scraping a nail down the seam of his shorts, I began tracing the outline of his impressive cock .