Chapter 2 #2
Thank God for graduation. Without it, he might have either been expelled or permanently injured.
Now he could appreciate the view in a way that would never have occurred to him in high school. And those legs were worth the wait, by God. They weren’t model-slim. They weren’t even smooth, thanks to her hippie-girl defiance of female beauty norms.
But they were strong and curvaceous and…hers.
They were hers. And that was enough to vanquish his defenses.
“Sebastián? Are you okay?”
Somehow, she’d climbed up the wall without him noticing, and now she was reaching for his hands to steady herself as she transferred to the loft. When her fingers intertwined with his, warm and agile, he had to beat back a sudden, unexpected wave of heat.
“I’ve got you,” he said.
Then she was tumbling on top of him, and it was completely awkward and wrong and painful. She was lying face-down on his back, her head near his legs. His neck bent at an uncomfortable angle under her weight, and her elbow poked into his thigh as she lifted her upper body.
He barely registered the pain as—for a millisecond only—the back of his head pressed up against a place he’d never allowed himself to imagine. At least, not outside of dreams he’d tried his best to forget.
In those dreams, that place hadn’t been resting on the back of his head or covered by voluminous layers of skirts. No, he’d had it bare and spread before him like a feast.
Don’t think about it. This is not what you and Lucy are about.
She was wiggling and squirming to turn around in the small space, and Christ, she smelled good.
Like honey and musk. Then they were both on their backs and she was resting beside him.
He missed her warm weight atop him. But she was still snuggled to his side in the center of the loft, since the edges wouldn’t fit any normal human.
Her breast, small and soft, pressed against his left arm, and his body reacted in a very unwelcome way.
He pictured the Marysburg stream, his go-to calming image for over fifteen years now.
The one he called to mind whenever he needed to quash an unwanted emotional or physical reaction.
The spot where he and Lucy had spent so many peaceful afternoons after the last bell, reading and talking in the grass as they soaked their feet in the clear, cool water.
That image had saved him from disgrace and embarrassment more times than he could count, but he’d never told her. How could he, without exposing everything he’d tried so hard to hide?
“Wow.” She wriggled again, and the image wasn’t working anymore. Because it too was full of Lucy, her smile and soft skin and laughter and ineffable presence. Her bare legs and honeyed scent. “This is even tighter than I’d imagined.”
Oh, Jesus.
With an effort, he kept his voice casual. “Welcome to Concussion Alley.”
“Goddess help you if you sit up without thinking.” She lifted her palm and pressed it against the ceiling. “I don’t see how this is workable.”
Voices drifted from below as the crew returned, and his heart rate began to slow. Surely these inappropriate reactions would cease once their private little bubble had been punctured?
The camerawoman called up, her voice damnably chipper. “We’ll get set up in a minute. In the meantime, keep considering whether the space is big enough for two.”
Lucy lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’m not even certain there’s room for one person to lie on top of another.”
No. No way. If this was going where he thought it was going—
Lucy touched his arm. “Can we test that, Seb?”
He lifted his head a bare inch and let it drop to the floor. Hard.
She cautiously raised herself on her elbow. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head?”
“I’m fine.” He tried to unclench his teeth. “Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, with a camera crew nearby?”
In the dim light of the loft, he could see her small nod. “I need to find a house that will work for me. I think it would be a good thing to…” Her throat worked as she swallowed. “It would be a good thing to test.”
She was definitely testing his resolve. He didn’t know about anything else.
Compared to the mountains he’d move at her request, though, this was such a tiny appeal. And when would he get this chance ever again?
“Do you want me on top?” he asked. “Or beneath you?”
They were words he’d said many times before, in a completely different context.
Or maybe the context wasn’t so different after all. Because when she breathed, “On top,” his body reacted as if it were an invitation to bed her, and she was trembling as he moved over her and settled into the cradle of her body.
Then he could feel almost every inch of her beneath him, her warmth turning to heat as her lips parted and her breath caught. He stared down at that lush mouth of hers, wondering. Wanting. Waiting for her to stop him.
She didn’t. And he couldn’t remember anymore why this was a terrible idea.
Carefully, he cradled her head in his hand, while the other smoothed her tumbled hair back from her sweet, dazed face.
He had just enough mental capacity left to check. “Is this okay?”
She nodded, nibbling on her lower lip. In just a moment, he was going to take that lip into his own mouth and cherish it. Lick it in recompense for her abuse. Then maybe bite it again, but lightly. So lightly it would feel like a caress.
He lowered his head, and her eyes were heavy-lidded. Welcoming.
“So we’ve set up the shot from this angle—”
The camerawoman’s voice, coming from only inches away, was a bucket of ice water poured over his body. He wrenched himself from Lucy, sitting up as quickly as he could.
That, as it turned out, was his next mistake.