Page 54 of Speechless

Beastly.

God, why is that such a turn on?

“What do you mean, amoment?”

“Well, we were paddle boarding. And he sort of, opened up to me. It was really sweet. I just noticed him looking at me differently, like maybe he—” I bite my lower lip hard, embarrassed from how childish I sound. “Like he wanted me.”

I squint at her in shame trying to gauge a reaction. Shesnorts.

“Luce,of coursehe wants you! I can see him pining after you all the way in here. Are you the last person to notice this?” I look over to the window to determine if Henry’s in my line of sight but he’s completely hidden. “I wasn’t being literal. Jesus Lucy, you obviously wanthim. What’s the problem?”

“I . . .”

“Dami, what are you two doing in here? I missed you.” Preston interrupts us with a big pout before sliding up next to Adamma and wrapping his arms around her. “We got a fire going, nice and warm. Come back?”

Adamma looks down at Preston. She kind of towers over him, especially in her heels. They’re so sweet together, just gazing into each other’s eyes. I realize I should probably let them be alone and make my way back outside. They follow me anyway and Adamma runs ahead to whisper in my ear, “Don’t be an idiot, he wants you.”

The guys have all moved to the firepit and there’s an empty chair for me next to Henry. When I stumble into it, I notice his gaze on me, locked and unmoving. And after I sit, he reaches down to the chair’s leg and tugs me toward him. I’m not sure if it’s cold out here, or if he’s giving me actual chills.

“Want a bite?” Henry holds up a perfectly roasted marshmallow a few inches from my face. “I toasted it for you.” I take a mouthful, savoring the burnt sugar on my tongue.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he says. I squint at him and raise an eyebrow. I’m wearing my three-sizes-too-big Nantucket sweatshirt as a dress over my bikini and my hair is messily thrown into a topknot. I don’t get dolled-up often, but I know this isn’t exactly my best look.

“You do. You look vibrant. Like the sun. Like everyone else is just orbiting around you.”

I feel our knees touch and know it’s not an accident this time. I wonder if it was ever an accident before. He leans closer, like he’s ready to whisper something directly in my ear, but he doesn’t speak. He wraps an arm around me and pulls me closer.

“What are you . . . ?”

“You’re shivering, Luce.” His hand starts traveling up and down my arm and I resist the urge to nuzzle into him. I can feel the warmth radiating off of his body and I’m reminded of last night's dream. I close my eyes for just a moment and I’m back on that futon, wrapped around Henry while his fingers comb through my hair. The dream was so vivid it feels like a memory. Henry tightens his hold on me and I open my eyes with a start. I can sense my pulse quickening. I feel . . .

“I’m gonna go grab some chips!” I’m not sure why I need to exclaim this quite so loudly to the group, but I’m up and out of my chair heading toward the kitchen before anyone can respond.

Am I really hiding in the pantry?

I’m walking in tight circles, quickly trying to sort through everything happening in my head. I’ve already told myself not to pursue my feelings for Henry; I know it will only end in disappointment for both of us. I can’t let one little compliment get to me.

But was it just a compliment? Ididfeel good tonight; I felt like the woman I used to be, confident and fun, never thinking about my failures or who I was currently disappointing. Sometimes it feels like he can see right into my soul.

“Luce, you okay?” Of course he followed me in here. He’s looking at me so intensely, his expression unreadable, like he’s waiting for something to happen. I feel him lightly gripping my wrist. When did he do that? He inches closer and his hand starts to slide down until only our fingers are entwined.

“Lucy.” One word, just him saying my name and I’m under a spell. His voice has dropped at least an octave. He licks his lips and I think he might kiss me. I can’t stop staring at his mouth.

Please kiss me.

What am I doing? I should walk away but I’m frozen here in the damn pantry praying to the Tostitos and cake mix that he’ll kiss me before I have the sense to run out of here.

“Lucy.” It sounds different this time, like a prayer, like a question to which I have all the answers. He moves closer. His eyes are the darkest I’ve ever seen them, and I imagine the deepest depths of the ocean. He’s moving so slowly, giving me every opportunity to bolt.

I’m a statue.

Suddenly, I need to know what his lips feel like, if he’ll be gentle and timid like he was when we first met. Or maybe his self-assurance will take over and he’ll grab me forcefully, a man in control.

I close my eyes, lost in a fantasy of all the ways Henry might feel, and then his lips are on mine, pillowy soft and so gentle I can barely breathe. He tastes like tequila and burnt sugar, and unadulterated lust. I feel him slide a loose lock of my hair through his fingers and hold it steady just below my chin. The kiss is chaste, but languid, meaningful. When he pulls away, I instinctively lean toward him and he kisses me again, a whisper of lips and breath.

He’s moving so slow, so decadently, painfully slow.

I place my hands flat against his chest ready to push him away, stop this before it goes any further. Two kisses, that’s all, that’s fine. We can definitely go back to normal after two kisses. Blame it on the margaritas, laugh it off like it never happened. But my hands betray me, start fisting his shirt, drawing him in closer to me.

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