Chapter 28
MAISIE
My mom’s party is truly one for the books, I think it’s been her best yet. So many people have shown up throughout the night and it warms my heart seeing so much love thrown her way.
While all the older adults are inside talking about who knows what, myself and a few others, including Henry, Wren, and Kevin, have been sitting by the fire and talking nonsense for hours.
Somehow me laying my head on his shoulder turned into me sitting on his lap when more people showed up by the fire. We’ve been inseparable since. Brushing of hands, his fingers resting on my thigh, fingers entwined… we’re always touching in some way.
I’m scared that I like it, it feels natural with him.
“I’m gonna run to my truck and grab a sweatshirt. I’ll be right back.” Henry squeezes my hip as he lifts me off his lap.
“Can I come with you?” The alcohol in my system causing me to ask questions out loud that I should be keeping in my head. I’m not that tipsy anymore, but it’s easier to blame alcohol than my own thoughts.
“Of course you can, you never have to ask.” He gently smiles. “Let’s get some water while we’re gone, okay? I don’t want that pretty little head to be throbbing in the morning.” He messes with my hair.
My heart flutters at his thoughtfulness and how much he cares for me.
We walk hand in hand to his truck—normal things that friends do.
“Come here.” Henry opens the car door and sets both of our drinks on the hood.
Without question, I walk up to him where he then grabs onto my waist. He effortlessly picks me up and sets me on the driver's seat, my legs dangling out the door. “Stay there while I grab my sweatshirt,” he says as he opens the back driver’s side door.
My eyes follow him the whole time, nearly drooling like a dog. The sliver of his toned stomach peaks out as he reaches up to pull his sweatshirt on. His happy trail that’s pointed toward his jeans once again losing me in a trance.
“Do you like what you see?” He chuckles.
Nodding—unaffected by him catching my wandering eyes—I mumble, “Uh huh.”
He shakes his head with a smile when he reaches into the backseat—for the sweatshirt, I assume. He shuts the door and walks back to me once again, looking so good I want to take a bite out of him.
“Hands up,” he demands.
My hands rise, doing exactly as he says. I don’t think I could say no to anything he asks of me.
“What are you doing?” I quietly ask.
“If I’m cold, then you must be too. I can’t have my girl cold.”
“My girl,” I whisper.
“S-sorry. I—” He sounds panicked. “That just came out, I’m sorry.”
“No,” I put my hand on his chest, stopping him, “I liked it.
At first he looks at my hand on his chest in shock. I watch as his face turns into a boyish grin. I remove my hand and help in putting his sweatshirt over my arms and head. Saying nothing the whole time.
It smells just like him—a masculine vanilla. I never want to take it off.
Instead of putting my arms down, I set them on his shoulders—wanting to touch him again—interlocking my hands behind his neck. I just stare in awe as he looks down at me in the same way.
There are no words being said, but neither of us move.
Stepping closer between my legs, he reaches to pull my hair out from under the hood and butterflies flutter throughout my whole body at his touch.
He moves his hand up and cups my face, brushing his rough thumb across my cheek.
I like him touching me, I like the feel of his calloused hands on my skin.
I unlink my hands from behind his neck and run one of them through his hair that has a groan leaving his mouth as he tilts his head back, his eyes closing. I like having this effect on him, knowing that my touch can cause this.
Deciding to be brave and accept the rejection if it happens, I take a breath and lean in to press my lips to the base of his neck where it meets his collar bone, feeling him swallow harshly.
“Maisie,” he rasps, hand moving from my face to my knee, squeezing ever so slightly.
“Mmm,” is all I reply with as I lick my tongue up his throat, tasting all that is him—my new favorite taste. I feel his hand tighten more on my knee. Gently I bite the skin under his ear and whisper, “Thank you for the sweatshirt.”
“God,” he whimpers. “If that’s how you thank me, I’ll give you a sweatshirt every day.”
Pressing one last kiss to his neck I pull away to see his lust filled eyes looking back at me, moving from my eyes to my lips.
He presses his forehead to mine, noses brushing against one another. “You’re so beautiful, Maisie.”
I close my eyes and smile at the simplicity of his compliment, making me feel like a teenager again.
“Can I ask you something?” he says as he plays with the strands of my hair, foreheads still glued together.
“Mhm,” I respond.
“If I wanted to kiss you, would you let me?”
I feel my heart pounding in my chest, and this time I know it’s not from the alcohol but from the man standing in front of me.
“Do you want to kiss me?”
“So badly, Maisie,” he whispers. “I don’t think you understand.”
“Kiss me,” I beg in a whisper back. “Please, Henr—”
He doesn’t give it a second thought as his mouth crashes into mine. I’ve never felt lips so rough yet so soft all at once.
His hand holds the nape of my neck as he pulls me in deeper and we both let out a groan at the connection.
Pulling away just enough to speak, he says, “If I kiss you again, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.” He’s breathless, his eyes staring into mine.
“Who says you have to?” I lean in and bite at his bottom lip. That’s enough for him to lose all of his control and kiss me like it’s his last dying wish.
My hands wrap around his neck and I thread my hands into his hair, pulling another whimper from him.
The noises he makes just from us making out turns me on. Who knew just a sound alone could cause that effect. I can’t help but wonder what he sounds like with our clothes off.
His hands make their way from my neck to my hips where he pulls me closer, squeezing me like he’s scared to let go. My legs wrap around him and my skirt bunches up around my waist, my center finding him hard already.
Goosebumps flush over my skin, causing a soft laugh from me. That laugh quickly turns to a moan when his hands make their way under my shirt and up my back.
His lips break away from mine but instantly attach to my neck, licking and sucking. “God, you’re so soft.” With every delicate bite, he kisses the pain away. “So delicious.”
My hands make their way to his arms, moving them to the front where I want his touch. He frees my breasts out of my bra, massaging each one so tenderly.
I can feel myself getting wet and it’s taking everything in me not to bring his hand lower to relieve me.
“You are so perfect,” he says at the same time that he pinches each nipple, a loud cry falling from my lips, quickly covered by his own. “Shh, don’t want anyone hearing what we’re doing, do you?”
My hand falls between us and I palm him, he’s even harder now and it causes a gasp out of me.
“Do you see what you do to me, Maisie?” He’s licking up my neck now, whispering in my ear as he bites my earlobe. “I’ve touched myself so many times to the thought of it being your hand instead.”
I grip him harder and a cry escapes him. The thought of him bare has me wanting to clench my legs together, trying not to rub myself against him.
I feel cool air against my stomach noticing that he’s lifting my top and his sweatshirt up, exposing my breasts to the night air.
He breaks away from my neck and moves his lips to the skin between my breasts.
I feel a stinging yet pleasurable pain and notice that he’s sucking and biting at the tissue there. His eyes look up at me when he does it and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
One of his hands takes hold of one breast while his lips find the other, licking my nipple and sucking. A loud moan escapes me and I feel a rumble of laughter from him on my skin when a hand covers my mouth.
I didn’t even know my nipples were so sensitive. No one has ever done this to me before, savored me like their last meal.
I’m still palming and holding him through his jeans, but I want to feel him in my hands. My other hand falls south and starts fumbling with the button of his jeans.
“M-Maisie.” He pulls away, his flushed face finding its way to mine. “I hate to end this but we’ve been drinking, I—” he brushes my cheek with his thumb, “I don’t want you to regret this in the morning. I don’t want us to get carried away and regret it.”
“I want this,” I lean in and suck his bottom lip, “I’ve only had a few drinks.”
“I know.” His forehead falls on mine. “Me too, believe me, me fucking too. I want it so bad, but we’ve been drinking and I want us to be sober if you end up wanting this to go further.
” His eyes move back and forth between mine.
“I don’t want this to end, but I want to respect you for wanting to be just friends. ”
“I think we both know we were never going to be just friends, Henry.” I press a kiss to his lips.
“I know,” he kisses my forehead, “I don't want to just be your friend, Maisie. I want things with you that a friend shouldn't want.” He presses a kiss to my nose. “I want you.”
In another burst of bravery, I ask, “Will you stay the night with me?When the party is over, will you stay with me?”
“I don’t think I could ever say no to you.” He moves hair out of my face, reluctantly pulling down my top—his eyes glued to my breasts until they’re covered. “As much as I want to keep us right here,” his voice is like rough gravel, “why don’t we get back before they think I kidnapped you.”
“Would that be so bad?” I tease.
“Come on,” he laughs and turns around looking back at me, “I’ll carry you back.”
I hop on his back, laughing at the silliness of it all—sneaking off and coming back in his clothes, being carried on his back, flushed faces.
I rest my head on his shoulder as he carries me, unable to stop repeating the words he said in my head…
I want things with you that a friend shouldn’t want.