Chapter 29 #3
“If you want me to leave you alone from now on, I completely understand—”
Talula set her cake box on the ground. Then she cupped Dahlia’s face in her hands before finally, finally pressing her mouth against Dahlia’s.
This kiss was worlds away from their desperate, hungry first. This time, Talula was fearless.
She kissed like a woman who knew exactly what she wanted, who cradled it in her hands.
She kissed Dahlia deeply, determinedly. Because Talula had something she needed Dahlia to know, something she could only say with her hips flush to Dahlia’s, her hands tangled in black curls, her lips moving as though oxygen, her Magical Destiny, and the rest of the world, could go fuck themselves so long as Talula could breathe Dahlia’s every soft gasp.
I choose you I choose you I choose you I choose you.
And Dahlia? Dahlia kissed like she had a whole lot to say right back.
Eventually, they came up for air. Talula tore her gaze away from the perfect pink o of Dahlia’s mouth to meet her wide brown eyes.
“Just to be clear,” Talula said. “I’m yours. I have always been yours. Romantically. For a while. Since the first time you came into the café.”
“Oh,” Dahlia said, her voice a little creaky. “Then why did you run away last night?”
Talula stroked a thumb over the crest of Dahlia’s cheek. It was as soft as a dream. “Because there are things in my life that I can’t tell you about. Because people’s lives are at risk. I thought that meant I couldn’t let myself want you as badly as I do.”
“But now?” Dahlia leaned her cheek into Talula’s hand, and it felt so tender and so good.
“You’re Dahlia,” Talula murmured, awestruck. “You’re strong and brilliant and kind and fierce, and I could live ten million years and never get enough of you.”
“But there’s stuff you can’t tell me.” Dahlia’s warm eyes never wavered.
Talula nodded. “I never want to lie to you. But if you want this, or whatever this could be, you’d have to be okay not knowing things. Big things. About me and my mom and the Blue Moon.”
“Will it always be like that?” Dahlia turned her head to kiss Talula’s palm.
I’m never washing that hand again, Talula thought, undone by the sensation of Dahlia’s lips. No, wait, that’s insane, of course I am.
“I don’t know. I hope not. It’s not only up to me,” Talula replied hoarsely. “I think we have to assume that you can never know. But I’ll try to make it the most honest secret anyone has ever kept.”
Dahlia laid a trail of kisses from Talula’s hand to the inside of her wrist. “What did you bring me?”
Talula struggled to corral coherent thought. “Oh. Um. Cake.”
Dahlia picked up the cake box with one hand and slipped a finger through a belt loop in Talula’s jeans with the other.
“Perfect.” Dahlia’s voice was so low, it sent shivers through Talula’s entire body. “I’m ravenous.” Dahlia yanked Talula into the house and slammed the door shut.
The cake box was tenderly placed on the entryway table.
Then, Dahlia—her finger still crooked through a belt loop—pulled Talula to her recklessly.
Talula’s elbow knocked over a lamp as she tumbled into Dahlia, but they just laughed against each other’s mouths.
Talula’s hands moved over Dahlia’s body, caught somewhere between caressing and holding on for dear life.
Dahlia dragged her through the hallway, fumbling Talula’s jacket off.
Talula found her fingers slipping underneath Dahlia’s shirt hem.
The touch of warm skin brought Talula a little bit back to her senses.
“Wait.” Talula pulled herself away, still gripping Dahlia by her hips.
Dahlia stilled.
Talula took a breath. “I want to know how far you want to go. What’s okay?”
Dahlia gave her the most wicked grin yet. “I want to see you naked.”
That grin unleashed something in Talula, something bold and eager that sent sizzling warmth cascading through her body. She found herself grinning right back. “Yes.”
Talula reached for the button of her jeans.
Dahlia’s fingers were already there. Quickly (and still not quickly enough), Talula’s jeans were on the floor.
Her hands tangled with Dahlia’s as they pulled off Talula’s shirt, chucking it on the floor to join her jeans and shoes. Her bra and underwear went next.
Color gathered in Dahlia’s cheeks as she took her in. “You’re a work of art.”
Talula was blushing, too, but she didn’t try to hide as Dahlia pored over every inch of her. She reached for Dahlia. “I want to see you naked.”
Almost instantly, Dahlia’s clothes joined Talula’s on the floor.
The two drank each other in, not quite touching, not yet. Finally, carefully, Dahlia ran light fingertips over Talula’s soft curves and smooth limbs. Talula leaned back against the wall so she wouldn’t stumble. “Now what do you want to do?”
“I want to make you feel really, really good,” Dahlia murmured.
Talula tangled her hands in Dahlia’s hair, pulled her close, and kissed her so deeply that when she broke away, Dahlia’s pupils were blown wide.
Talula felt bold, brazen, and witchfire-lit. “Show me.”
Dahlia slipped a hand between Talula’s thighs. Her mouth found Talula’s throat. “What about you? What do you want?”
“I want to…” Talula’s breath caught as Dahlia’s fingers began to move against her, building beautiful molten heat exactly where she needed it. “I want to…”
But Talula ran out of useful words as Dahlia moved and kissed and touched and nipped.
This close, she could see how Dahlia’s lashes swept out over her cheeks, how her lip quivered as Talula positioned her leg carefully in symmetry to Dahlia’s.
She reached around Dahlia and pulled her in, giving her a lift from behind to help angle her just so. Dahlia gasped, eyes sparkling.
Talula scraped together whatever was left in her brain and whispered into Dahlia’s ear, “I want everything.”
That night’s Magic Box performance, the town agreed, was legendary.
Equestrian vaulters in sequins charged around the square on snow-white horses.
As the vaulters twisted and flipped on the backs of their steeds, trapeze artists emerged from the trees, dancing across the sky on invisible wire.
Finally, the pièce de résistance—jugglers appeared onstage and juggled items increasing in shock factor until chainsaws flew through the air.
The whole thing absolutely boggled the mind.
The consensus was that it was a night of amazement, of awe, of relentless bouts of elation.
The same was true for Talula and Dahlia—but they didn’t see a second’s worth of the show.
As horses thundered, trapeze artists traipsed, and chainsaws roared, Talula and Dahlia were miles away. They spent the night tangled up in each other, tearing off morsels of angel food cake with their fingers, kissing the sweetness of it from each other’s mouths over and over and over again.