Page 33 of Bartholomew
“She said that to you?” I asked cautiously, watching as she took a sip from her water.
“Oh, yes. They all do, though. No big deal in the end.” She waved off the comment with her hand as though she were swatting at an errant gnat.
“That’s not okay, Delilah,” I spoke sternly but kindly. “It’s never okay to talk to others that way.”
“It’s really fine, Ollie. I mean, they aren’t wrong.” Again, she said the words with a smile on her face and a giggle almost escaping her lips, like it was the most natural thing to say in the world.
“No, Delilah. It’s not.” My tone was firmer. Less giving. “Hear me clearly. I meant what I said yesterday. You will not put yourself down and be self-deprecating. And neither should you listen to the words of those who would put you down.”
Then she did it. She had relaxed just enough to let her guard down and the little minx rolled her eyes.
“Careful, there Delilah,” I chided. I kept my tone in check, but I couldn’t help the fact that the pitch of my voice had lowered drastically. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from hers.
“Careful of what?” she retorted.
“You rolled your eyes,” I responded, taking a sip of that delightful concoction she had made.
“You said I could be myself here,” she sassed. There it was.
“God, I like when you get sassy. It makes me want—” My words ended as abruptly as they had begun. She wasn’t ready for that level of conversation, no matter how encouraging Levi and Ruth had been on such matters.
“Makes you want what?” she questioned. Her hands gripped the water glass in her hands. I was surprised it wasn’t slipping out of them with how much condensation had gathered between her palms and the glass. She kept her eyes locked on mine for a moment longer before she lowered them. Fucking beautiful.
“Right now, it makes me want to lean over there and kiss you.” I let my voice go lower and let her see the intent in my eyes. I wanted to show her I wanted her.
“Oh, Ollie,” she giggled. “You’re too much.” She playfully slapped at my hand. She went to pull her hand away, but I was faster. I seized her wrist, keeping her right there with me.
“No, I’m not. I want to kiss you, Delilah. We agreed to be authentically ourselves tonight and let me be crystal clear when I say that I have not been able to stop thinking about kissing you since last night.”
Her mouth hung open.
“How does that make you feel, Delilah?” I all but purred. I set my drink down on the side table, my eyes never leaving hers.
“I… um… I don’t think it’s your turn for a question,” she stuttered out. I could see her hands trembling.
“Would it be alright if I did?” I asked coyly.
“Um…”
“Um isn’t a word, sweetheart. May I kiss you?” I reiterated, leaning forward towards her.
“I, uh… maybe?”
I shook my head slowly.
“Maybe is not good enough. Enthusiastic consent or nothing, darlin’.” I eased forward. Crowding into her space just a little more.
“Yes,” she finally whispered. Her eyes had not left mine.
“That’s a good girl,” I praised. I moved towards her, my eyes lowering to those full lips she seemed entirely unable to stop nibbling on. She followed suit, leaning back into the couch cushion. Her eyes widened as she abruptly sat back up, suddenly even closer to me.
“But you don’t have to —” she began, but I wasn’t about to hear that bullshit.
“Respectfully, sweetheart — lay the fuck back down so I can kiss you how I’ve been dreaming about kissing you all damn day.”
The noise that she made cemented my actions, and my lips found hers. Our bodies were close, as I pressed her back into the couch cushions and took that kiss I wanted so badly.
I caught her gasp with my lips, the perfect invitation to taste her.
