Chapter 14 Jack #2
She shifts then, moving and pushing on my chest, and with an arm on her lower back, holding her close to me, I gently fall back onto the couch, her body pressing against mine. I fight the consuming urge to grab her ass, to pull her into my front and grind my hardening cock into her.
Even though it’s creating a new issue, a different form of need and desire coursing through my veins that I don’t want to look too closely at, the gold-tinged need that’s been fueling me for days seems to be slowly satisfied, like this touch of her lips to mine was what I needed.
“Jack,” she whispers, surprise in the word, but I can barely hear it as my hand lifts, as I tip her chin up to me, as I move to press my lips to hers.
I tell myself it’s the magic of the bond she spoke of that needs to refresh the kiss to make this ache in my chest ease, and when our lips touch, it does.
But I also can’t ignore how a new, different ache replaces it.
Something completely different and concerning fills my chest, a tethering to her that I don’t think has anything to do with magic, except for the magic that is Rosie.
A small gasp leaves her lips as I kiss her, and when her lips part, I can’t help but slide my tongue to brush against her bottom lip, a gentle, polite request that I’ve been thinking about since the club.
I want to know what Rosie tastes like.
She accepts my gentle prod, lips parting and encouraging mine to do so as well before her tongue touches mine. I groan at her taste, sweet and zesty lemon sugar, like the frosting of her sister’s cookies, but so much better because it’s somehow Rosie.
And for the first time, in some deep place I can’t fully access, I admit to myself that part of the reason I’m always so frazzled and irritated by Rosie is because the first time I saw her, I was stunned by her beauty.
So radiant, so overpowering that I didn’t know what to do.
And over the years, it only made me increasingly frustrated as it became more and more clear that she is everything I can’t have: friendly, bubbly, and kind; chatty, goofy, and popular.
I started to become callous to the fact that I couldn’t have her, making me want to hate her.
But I never could.
Her mission to make me like her is a lost cause because I’ve been enamored by Rosie for years now.
It’s probably an hour of kissing on her couch, nothing more, nothing less, when it seems to feel like we’ve got our fill. “Told you,” she says with a smile. “The bond needs its payment. It’s not as bad now, right?” I nod at her.
With each touch of her skin, each brush of her hair, each moment I hold her close, it eases something in my chest that had been tight since I last saw her. Now I almost feel back to normal. I don’t want to look too deeply into why I continue to kiss her despite that urge seeming to be sated.
“And it’ll fade in a few days for good?”
She nods again. “Honestly, from my research, you should be topped off until it wears off for good, but if you feel the need again, come over and have a necking session again.”
I let out a laugh that feels freer than I can remember before unintentionally confessing. “You know, I’ve never done this,” I say with a laugh before trailing my lips along the column of her neck.
“Kissed a woman?”
I shake my head and laugh into her skin, her body shivering as I do.
“No, I’ve done that plenty.”
“I’ve never seen a woman at your place,” she says, and that’s when I pull back, smiling at her. A blush begins to spread down her neck to her chest, cherry red on her cheeks. “Not that I—”
Before I have to confess that I’ve also kept an eye on whether or not she’s brought men home, I cut her words short.
“I don’t really date,” I say, using my fingers to push her hair back.
“No?” she asks, her own hand cupping my cheek. I shake my head.
“I, uh…” How do I tell a woman who is sitting in my arms that I typically have one-night stands because women usually don’t like my personality for longer than that?
“I’m standoffish,” I say, and she lets out a laugh.
“You don’t say.” I stare, and she smiles, and something about it has me explaining more.
“Women I meet aren’t really into the nerdy guys who read comics and collect trading cards.
I can do small talk for one, two dates, but eventually it gets old.
Plus, I like my space. I haven’t really figured out how to say Hey, I like you, but I don’t want you near me right now because I want to sit in silence and play video games without sounding like an asshole or some basement-dwelling loser.
” She lets out a loud scoff of laughter that I can feel against my body and shakes her head.
“Yeah, I can see how that would come off bad.” She contemplates for a long moment before speaking again.
“You need a reader. Someone who would be happy to sit in silence with you while you play and she reads.” Don’t think it, don’t think it, don’t—my mind wins out and a picture of the two of us cozied up on my couch flits across my mind’s eye.
Rosie’s head in my lap, reading one of her books while I sit up and play a game.
I could see how that would work.
“After the curse is broken, I’ll have to keep an eye out for eligible readers for you.
” Her words settle in my gut in a bad way, like I ate too much, too fast, and now I feel sick, but I know she meant it well, so I nod and smile.
With my confirmation, she smiles wider, energized.
“It’s my specialty, after all.” Suddenly, my smile feels a bit less real than it did five minutes ago.
We stare at each other for a few moments before she shifts subjects.
“I, uh. This Thursday is the full moon, so the moonflowers will be ready to bloom for the potion.” There’s hesitance in her words before she speaks. “I can get them myself, since it will be a long night. There’s a short window when we can—”
“I’m coming,” I say, and she rolls her eyes.
“Not because I don’t trust you, though. I think we’re long past that.
” Her eyes narrow, and she looks at me, confused, but I shrug.
“If I’m being honest, despite the chaos, this is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.
I’ve spent my life reading about and getting lost in fictional worlds of magic and potions and quests.
I’m finally on one. Let me live in it for a bit.
” It’s a shallow excuse, but she seems to accept it when she nods.
“Okay. I’ll come to your place on Thursday at nine.”
“It’s a date,” I say, and even though I should correct myself, especially when she blushes, I don’t.
And I don’t miss how she doesn’t stop me, either.