Page 77 of The Lovers
“To each other,” she adds.Clink.She sips and then gulps down some wine. “Okay, total transparency, I’m terrified.”
“We don’t have to do anything that scares you.”
She grips my hand, squeezing. “That’s just it.” She gulps more wine. “I want to do what scares me.”
“We’re not sixteen anymore. We can just do things because we want to, not because we want a thrill.”
“I’m not looking for an adrenaline rush,” she says, and then with nervous, shaky hands she stacks a cracker with salami and cheese. “Maybe an endorphin rush.” She fills her mouth with the cracker and I let out a laugh before joining her in the charcuterie. She’s smiling when she speaks again. “I’ve been scared my whole life of acting on the things I really want.”
“Likelifelife, or just sex life?” Confusion pings through me. She seems built for her career, actively trying to expand it, successful and happy.
“All of it,” she says. “Can your life really be what you want if you are denying a truth about yourself?”
I reach across the charcuterie to touch the curve of her exposed knee with my hand.
I don’t want her to think that just because this version of me looks perfect, polished, and pristine, that I’m not still the live wire desperate for connection that I always was.
“I don’t have everything—” I cut myself off, rethinking. “Anything together, either.” She’s looking into my eyes and it’s like she knows, without me even saying it out loud, just how out of control this control freak feels. She pops a grape into her mouth, chewing, wheels turning as she gears up to speak.
“It’s like the whole left side of my body was numb—and I made it that way. I ignored it long enough that it just went dormant, and on the rare occasion when I did notice it, instead of nurturing it, I let it starve. Watched it wither. And now that I can feel its hunger again, all I want to do is feed it.”
I set my glass on the platform by the bed.
She pops another grape between her teeth and bites. The juice dampens the corner of her mouth, glistening in the light. All I want to do is lick it off. All I’m hungry for now is her.
I fit my fingers around the handles of the tray. “This is in the way.”
Her eyes lock with mine.This is really going to happen?they seem to ask.
I set the tray out of the way, taking the few seconds of privacy as my face is turned away from her freak-out. Thisisreally about to happen. I am going to have sex with Kit Larson. Real, grown-up sex. This must be what people who get to sleep with celebrities feel like—bewildered glee mixed with apprehension that they’ll screw something up and squander their chance.
When I turn around, the edges of her blanket shawl have slipped down to reveal her shoulders. Her skin absorbs moonlight like a sponge. Stars spray out in all directions behind her. The fire’s flames flicker and dance, making a movie along the fence backdrop.
She’s looking at me with so much love, expectation andlonging all wrapped up in her beautiful face. I close the distance between us in a rush, crashing my lips into hers, ravenous and feral, a wild, untamed thing in search of a brand-new adventure. Tongue and teeth clash; my hands roam into her hair and get buried. My mouth searches her neck like it’s the X on a treasure map. I want to taste the dip in her collarbone. I want to uncover her breasts and tantalize her nipples with my tongue. I want to make it goddamn clear that she is the most beautiful person to me.
Perfect in all imperfection.
Perfectly, wholly, my Twin Flame.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Kit
Lust ripples over me.
What if I tear the buttons of her pressed white blouse and watch them spray across the bed? What if I nibble her earlobe and fist her hair?
My hands grapple for a hold on every tiny curve of her body. She tongues between my collarbone and then down, down, until she’s between my cleavage. Her hand on my shoulder tugs at the strap of my dress, pulling it loose from its place until it makes space between my breast and the fabric.
“Can I?” she breathes, the act of questioning just as titillating as the suggestion. I nod, unable to speak, my words trapped by the grip of desire. She pulls my dress away and my breast slips out. I watch her eyes widen, desire written in her aqua irises, before she flicks my nipple with her tongue, taking it entirely into her mouth.
My blood pulses into every hidden crevice. The sensation of her tongue swirling over my nipple is madness I want to give all the way in to, but then her hand sweeps up my thigh, gripping myass over the skirt of my dress, and my hips buck up like a bronco. She releases my breast from her mouth, catching it with her hand and sweeping her thumb over the nipple. My body screams and I tip my head back.
“You’re right,” she says as she exposes my other breast. “Your tits are paradise.” She raises her hand to cup it, smiling at the already hard nipple.
I want to reciprocate, to feel her skin on my skin. “Unbutton your shirt.”
She leans up, and I can tell by her smirk that she’s pleased to take my order seriously. She makes quick work of the buttons, exposing her simple nude bra. I reach out, taking the edges of the shirt in hand and shoving it off her shoulders. I reach behind to unclip the bra clasp and let it fall between us. When I lean back, her tan nipples, edged in the faintest hint of pink, small and perky, wink back. I can’t control myself; I don’t even try. I take one in my hand, tweaking the nipple, and then cover it with my mouth. I spin my tongue around it, grabbing at Julia’s thighs, her hips. Wanting to climb on top of her, wanting to strip her thighs bare, rip her panties off and cast them in the fire, spread her lips and taste.
