hers. “Before we do what we both want to do. Before I lean in one more inch. And before you part your lips for me just enough for me to steal a taste. Before I put my hands on your hips and back you up until you have nowhere to go but onto your bed.”
I can feel her breath teasing my lips and it’s so tempting I have to force myself to lean in to her ear again so I’m not so close to her mouth. “Before I slowly lower myself on top of you and our hands become curious and brave. Before my fingers slip under the hem of your shirt. Before my hand begins to explore its way up your stomach, and I discover I’ve never touched skin as soft as yours.”
She gasps, then exhales a shaky breath and it’s almost as sexy as the fist bump.
It may even be sexier.
“Before I finally get to touch your boob on purpose .”
She laughs at that one, but her laugh is cut short when I press my thumb to the center of her lips.
“Before your breaths pick up pace and our bodies are aching because everything we’re feeling is just making us want more and more and more of each other . . . until I’m afraid I’ll beg you not to ask me to slow down. So instead, I regrettably tear my mouth from yours and force myself away from your bed and you lift up unto your elbows and look at me, disappointed, because you kind of wished I would have kept going, but at the same time you’re relieved I didn’t, because you know you would have given in. So instead of giving in, we just stare. We watch each other silently as my heart rate begins to slow down and your breaths are easier to catch and the insatiable need is still there, but our minds are clearer now that I’m not pressed against you anymore. I turn around and walk to your window and leave without even saying goodbye, because we both know if either of us speaks . . . it’ll be the collective demise of our willpower and we’ll cave. We’ll cave so hard.”
I move my hand to her cheek. She whimpers and looks like she’s about to collapse onto the bed, so I wrap my other arm around her lower back and pull her against me.
“So yeah . . . three questions first.”
I let go of her and immediately turn around two seconds before I hear her fall onto her bed. I walk straight to the desk chair and take a seat, for two reasons. One, I want her to think I mean business and that everything I just said to her didn’t affect me like it did her. And two, because I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything and my knees were about to give out on me if I didn’t sit down.
“Question number one,” I say, watching her from across her room. She’s lying on her back with her eyes closed and I hate that I’m not watching her up close right now. “When’s your birthday?”
“October . . .”—She clears her throat, obviously still recovering—“thirty-first. Halloween.”
How could the date of a birthday make me fall even harder for her? I have no idea, but it somehow does.
“Question number two. What’s your favorite food?”
“Homemade mashed potatoes.”
Never would have guessed that one. Glad I asked.
“Question number three,” I say. “It’s a big one. Are you ready?”
She nods, but keeps her eyes closed.
“What’s the one thing in this room that tells the biggest secret about you?”
As soon as the question leaves my mouth, she’s completely still. Her exaggerated breaths come to a halt. She remains motionless for almost a whole minute before she slowly pushes herself up until she’s seated on the edge of the bed, facing me. “It has to be something inside this room?”
I nod slowly.
She lifts her hand and touches a finger to her heart, pointing at it. “This,” she whispers. “My biggest secret is right in here.”
Her eyes are moist and sad and somehow with that answer, the air instantly changes between us. In a dangerous way. A terrifying way. Because it feels like her air just became my air and I suddenly want to take in fewer breaths in
I can feel her breath teasing my lips and it’s so tempting I have to force myself to lean in to her ear again so I’m not so close to her mouth. “Before I slowly lower myself on top of you and our hands become curious and brave. Before my fingers slip under the hem of your shirt. Before my hand begins to explore its way up your stomach, and I discover I’ve never touched skin as soft as yours.”
She gasps, then exhales a shaky breath and it’s almost as sexy as the fist bump.
It may even be sexier.
“Before I finally get to touch your boob on purpose .”
She laughs at that one, but her laugh is cut short when I press my thumb to the center of her lips.
“Before your breaths pick up pace and our bodies are aching because everything we’re feeling is just making us want more and more and more of each other . . . until I’m afraid I’ll beg you not to ask me to slow down. So instead, I regrettably tear my mouth from yours and force myself away from your bed and you lift up unto your elbows and look at me, disappointed, because you kind of wished I would have kept going, but at the same time you’re relieved I didn’t, because you know you would have given in. So instead of giving in, we just stare. We watch each other silently as my heart rate begins to slow down and your breaths are easier to catch and the insatiable need is still there, but our minds are clearer now that I’m not pressed against you anymore. I turn around and walk to your window and leave without even saying goodbye, because we both know if either of us speaks . . . it’ll be the collective demise of our willpower and we’ll cave. We’ll cave so hard.”
I move my hand to her cheek. She whimpers and looks like she’s about to collapse onto the bed, so I wrap my other arm around her lower back and pull her against me.
“So yeah . . . three questions first.”
I let go of her and immediately turn around two seconds before I hear her fall onto her bed. I walk straight to the desk chair and take a seat, for two reasons. One, I want her to think I mean business and that everything I just said to her didn’t affect me like it did her. And two, because I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything and my knees were about to give out on me if I didn’t sit down.
“Question number one,” I say, watching her from across her room. She’s lying on her back with her eyes closed and I hate that I’m not watching her up close right now. “When’s your birthday?”
“October . . .”—She clears her throat, obviously still recovering—“thirty-first. Halloween.”
How could the date of a birthday make me fall even harder for her? I have no idea, but it somehow does.
“Question number two. What’s your favorite food?”
“Homemade mashed potatoes.”
Never would have guessed that one. Glad I asked.
“Question number three,” I say. “It’s a big one. Are you ready?”
She nods, but keeps her eyes closed.
“What’s the one thing in this room that tells the biggest secret about you?”
As soon as the question leaves my mouth, she’s completely still. Her exaggerated breaths come to a halt. She remains motionless for almost a whole minute before she slowly pushes herself up until she’s seated on the edge of the bed, facing me. “It has to be something inside this room?”
I nod slowly.
She lifts her hand and touches a finger to her heart, pointing at it. “This,” she whispers. “My biggest secret is right in here.”
Her eyes are moist and sad and somehow with that answer, the air instantly changes between us. In a dangerous way. A terrifying way. Because it feels like her air just became my air and I suddenly want to take in fewer breaths in
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