Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
JESSE
R ealising that you are completely and utterly in love with one of your best friends when she’s wearing your T-shirt and staring at the lip print that she left on your cock is probably not the most romantic of stories.
It’s also probably not the truth. It might have been true when I’d plucked a Shakespeare play out of her hand and pressed her against the shelves in a bookshop in Marseille. Or when she was looking out at the horizon while we were having lunch. Or the first time I watched her swim with such strength and power. Or the first time I saw her in leopard print.
The real truth might be that I was a goner the first time I saw her and had been pretending otherwise ever since.
But now that I could, I was free-falling into being in love with the best person I had ever met.
“Dinner is in an hour,” Clara said, breaking the silence we had found ourselves in after she managed to get a third orgasm out of me. A silence that let me fully accept that I was in love with her.
Clara’s leg was in its rightful place over my waist, her head pillowed on my chest.
“Is this another fancy affair, because I don’t think I can handle sitting next to you looking good enough to eat again.”
Part of my brain was still stuck on the vision of her in black satin. It might always be stuck there, and I was fine with it.
“It’s the rehearsal dinner, so fancy-ish. But not as fancy as the other night,” she said as she sat up and shifted herself around until she was straddling me. Her hands came to rest on my chest.
It still felt like I was dreaming. It just didn’t seem possible that I got to be here like this with her. That I got have her casually sit on me, wearing my T-shirt, looking thoroughly fucked and happy. I could stroke the groove of her hips with my thumbs. Or send her wild by sliding my hand under the T-shirt and finding her swollen nipple. I could sit up and capture her mouth in a languid kiss that I would never want to end.
The possibilities were endless.
“I don’t know why I made it sound like there was an outfit that you could wear that wouldn’t make me want to devour you. I’m fucked either way,” I said.
“If it makes you feel any better, I’m in the same boat,” she said as she climbed off me and headed to the bathroom.
“Are we still a no on the shower sex thing?” I called out after her.
She paused in the doorway. “Right now, yeah. But maybe one day.”
I groaned as she closed the door.
* * *
When I came out of the bathroom, Clara was putting on a new face of make-up in a bikini. It was similar to the leopard print one, only this one was a deep blue that looked incredible against her warm brown skin. Knowing that was on underneath whatever she was wearing was going to ruin me. I really was fucked.
“Why are you staring?” she asked, sounding amused.
“Didn’t realise I was,” I said, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at her in the mirror.
“Well, you were. I mean, I didn’t mind, but you were.”
“You look beautiful,” I said.
Clara rolled her eyes before she swiped mascara onto her lashes. “Thank you.”
As she twisted the cap back onto the mascara, she swivelled around in her chair, keeping her gaze down.
“I should let you know, although I am sure you have probably already assumed, that the girls know. More accurately, they guessed something happened, and there was no point in me denying it. Not that I wanted to deny it. I’m not ashamed or embarrassed but this. I’m rambling. My point is, we haven’t actually talked about whatever this thing between us is, and so if you want to keep it quiet for now or whatever, that is totally fine. They are actually very capable of keeping a secret if you ask, so if you want me to ask, just say the word and no one else has to know.”
I stood from the bed and covered the distance between us, dropping to my knees when I reached her. My fingers brushed along her jaw, encouraging her to look at me.
“I don’t care about people knowing about us. I’m not ashamed or embarrassed either, and I don’t want to keep it a secret. But, I guess, it’s probably just the decent thing to not go downstairs and rub it in that we’re navigating new, more romantic, ground in front of your ex-boyfriend.”
I didn’t like the guy, but I knew it wasn’t the nicest feeling in the world to see your ex happy with someone else so soon after a break-up. It could hurt anyone, no matter how amicably the relationship ended.
Clara nodded. “I agree,” she said before she pressed her mouth against mine. It was a quick brush of our lips, but I kept her close by pulling her bottom lip between my teeth. It was enough to coax her into a longer, deeper kiss that she melted into.
Clara gave her all to kissing. She knew just the right amount of pressure to exert and when to pull back so we could catch our breath before diving back in. If I could only do one thing for all eternity, it would be kissing Clara.
“We have to go down to dinner,” she said against my mouth, but she didn’t attempt to put any distance between us.
“Do we?” I kissed along her jaw. Clara tilted her neck, allowing me more space.
“Yes. We do. For one, it’s the rehearsal dinner, and I am one of the Maids of Honour at this thing, I can’t miss it. Secondly, we skipped lunch in favour of doing other things, and I am in need of food. A lot of food.”
She pulled away and got up, walking over to the pile of clothes by her suitcase. I started pulling on my jeans and a shirt, which I stopped buttoning when I saw what she pulled out from the pile.
“What?” she asked when she caught me staring as she shimmied the playsuit up over her hips.
“Are you shitting me with that outfit?”
She looked down at herself as she pulled it up over her chest and put her arms through the sleeves. I saw the exact moment she registered that the playsuit was the same shade as the lipstick she smeared all over me earlier.
“Oh, yeah, sorry. I should have warned you about that. At least it’s not black satin though, right?” She didn’t sound the least bit sorry as she turned around and offered me her back, the zip waiting to be pulled up. I walked over to her and pinched the fabric together, dragging the zip up slowly.
“I think it’s worse than black satin,” I said as I dropped a kiss on her shoulder. It was so much worse. This outfit, this colour, was a reminder of everything . The words I wanted to say were on the tip of my tongue.
But not yet.
I settled the zip at the top of her spine and ran my hands down her arms, enjoying the way she shivered at the touch.
As my hands reached hers, she threaded the fingers of one hand through mine. “We really do need to head downstairs,” she said, pulling me out of the room.
* * *
I expected Clara to let go of my hand when we got to the kitchen, but she didn’t. No one seemed to bat an eyelid at it, except for one person who kept sending daggers Clara’s way.