Chapter 18 Clarke #2
“I guess that’s pretty normal for Sweetwater Peak,” he said.
“Haunted as hell, or whatever.” It didn’t shock me to hear Leith say that.
The locals knew, and they all partook in some weird folklore traditions that accompanied living in a haunted town, like not rocking an empty chair because it invites spirits.
Most locals also believed that if you heard three knocks on your door, it meant a death was coming.
And as kids, we were told never to look into the woods after dark, but that’s only scary if you didn’t know what was looking back.
I knew exactly what or who was looking back at me.
“Haunted as hell,” I agreed. More than anyone knew.
“Do you remember that party Eddie had after graduation?” Leith asked after he took the last swig of his root beer. “The one where the lights kept flickering and all the doors and windows kept slamming while we were playing spin the bottle?”
“I wasn’t there.” I didn’t make it a habit of hanging out with Edmund Papadakis, first of all.
Second of all, Collins wasn’t invited—there was an incident in junior high where Eddie’s nose ended up broken and Collins got blamed—which meant I wasn’t invited.
It didn’t bother her, but it bothered me.
She went out that night—probably taking pictures and stealing shit. I went to Toades and cried to Earnest.
“Really?” Leith asked.
“Really,” I said. “I don’t think I’ve ever played spin the bottle.”
Leith’s eyes glinted in the orange glow of the kitchen. At some point, we’d turned toward each other on our stools, and our knees were touching. “Do you want to?” My breath caught in my throat. I didn’t say anything. Instead, I watched Leith put his root beer bottle on its side and spin it.
The lights flickered again as the bottle came to a stop—positioned perpendicular between Leith and me, pointing at neither of us. I let out a breath. I couldn’t tell if it was made up of relief or disappointment.
Maybe it was both.
My eyes flicked to Leith, whose shoulders seemed to drop a little. Then within a millisecond, I felt a presence, the bottle moved—its mouth pointing directly at me—and whatever moved it was gone.
“Well, hot damn,” Leith whispered.
And then both of us were standing—my fingers were in his hair, and his arms were around my waist. Our foreheads were pressed together, as his hands moved up and down my back.
“Clarke…” he choked out.
“No kissing, remember?” I breathed. Why did I say that? Maybe it was because I wanted to kiss him. So much. I didn’t even know that kissing could produce whatever type of desire this was. It burned like a bonfire in my chest.
“On the mouth?” he asked. His voice was strained, desperate.
I nodded against his forehead. He pulled away, and I immediately leaned forward—searching for him.
Then I felt his lips on my forehead, then on each of my temples, then my cheeks.
I reveled in the way it felt as both of us let our hands explore.
“Can I kiss you here?” I felt his breath at my jaw. I nodded again. “I need to hear you say it, honey.”
“Y-yes.”
“Do you want me to kiss you here?” His voice was low.
“Yes,” I said immediately. I wanted it bad. Leith’s lips pressed against my jaw, and a pathetic and embarrassing noise came from deep in my throat, but I had a hard time bringing myself to care about it too much.
I heard plates moving, but I didn’t think anything of it.
The ghosts could be doing a full kitchen reno, and I couldn’t give a damn.
I wasn’t thinking anything about anything right now—just about Leith and how good it felt to be close to him—until Leith’s hands gripped my waist and lifted me onto the counter with ease.
“Oh,” I gasped, and Leith bit down on the sweet spot between my neck and shoulder. I slid my hands down his back and snuck under the hem of his T-shirt. He jumped a little when my skin touched his.
“Your hands are freezing,” he said—peppering kisses across my chest.
“Poor circulation,” I said.
“Hot.”
“Cold, actually,” I muttered. I felt Leith’s laugh as he pulled me to the edge of the counter. I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist.
“You’ve got me all worked up, Clarke,” he said against my throat. “And I’ve barely touched you.” His hands were skating up and down my thighs. I wished that he was touching my skin instead of denim.
“I’m…sorry?”
“Yeah, well…you’ll have to make it up to me.”
I swallowed hard. “H-how?”
“I want to keep touching you,” he said. “I want to kiss you everywhere but that perfect mouth. I know you don’t believe me, but I can follow a rule, you know.”
“I didn’t know that.” I did know that I wanted him to keep going, but this felt like a bad idea. I didn’t need the lines separating my fake boyfriend and my very real crush (which I thought had gone dormant) on Leith to get any blurrier than they already were.
But…
“It doesn’t have to mean anything, Clarke,” Leith said. He had pulled back and was looking me dead in the eye. “Not if you don’t want it to.”
That was the problem. I think I did…want it to.
“We’re both adults,” Leith said. “Adults who have known each other a long time and are attracted to each other.” I gave him a look, and he laughed a little. “I see the way you watch me, Clarke. It’s okay. I like it.”
“Your self-assurance is astounding.”
“You bring it out in me,” he said, and he then leaned in. Honestly, fuck the rules at this point. I let my eyes fall shut, but instead of kissing my lips, he kissed the corner of my mouth—as close as he could get without breaking the rule.
I breathed. “I want to keep going.”
Leith looked up and brought his hands together like he was praying. “Thank you, universe.”
I pushed on his chest. “Shut up,” I said.
“Make me, Clarke,” he said, smirking at me. And without thinking, I grabbed the hem of my long-sleeved shirt and whipped it over my head.
Leith’s eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open a little. “Well, I guess that worked.” I grinned.
“Now who is self-assured?” he said before picking me up off the counter and carrying me to my living room. I gasped in surprise when he flipped me onto the couch and covered my body with his.
I felt his hands all over my body, and I arched into him as he kissed down my neck and grabbed my hip. His hand went to the button of my jeans. “Can I take these off?” he asked.
“Why?” I breathed. Maybe it was because this whole thing started with a spin-the-stupid-bottle tale, but I had been totally content with whatever high school type of bump and grind we had going on right now.
Bump and grind? What is wrong with you, Clarke?
“Because I want to go down on you, honey,” he said. “I thought that was obvious.”
“Oh,” I said dumbly. Did I like that? I didn’t really know. Did I want that? Yeah.
“What’s going on up here?” Leith asked—gently tapping one of his pointer fingers on my temple.
“I want that,” I said. “It’s just…I usually, like, get in my head when that’s happening.
Like, if I look okay or sound okay or if…
or if…I don’t know. I don’t think I’m good at sex stuff.
” I shook my head. “And I’m not like…prepped.
” I felt the embarrassment surging through my entire body, and I slapped my hands over my face.
“Hey,” Leith said. “Look at me, honey.” I shook my head. His voice was soft and earnest. “Please.”
I let out an exaggerated sigh before I wiped my hands down my face. When I looked at Leith, his eyes were on me intently.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi.”
“I think that being ‘good at it’ or whatever is just wanting to be there, with that person. And there’s nowhere else I want to be right now than right here. With you.”
I swallowed hard. I believed him. There was no way I couldn’t—not when he was looking at me like that and handling me like I was the most precious thing on earth.
“And to your last point, I’m a grown man. I don’t give a fuck about you being ‘prepped’ or whatever. All I want is to taste you.”
“I-I want that too.”
“Then be here with me,” he said.
“Okay,” I whispered, and then I reached my hand between us to unbutton my jeans. The smirk Leith gave me made me want to smack him, or kiss him, or both.