Page 48 of Head First
I feel desire making the tangy sea air even thicker, like there could be steam rising off both of us. And then, slowly, but all at once, he kisses me.
It feels like a lightning strike from my head to my toes. Hugh’s tongue gently parts my lips. His hands find their way to the small of my back and the nape of my neck. He pulls me closer to him, and suddenly we’re touching everywhere. I feel like a live wire. Every sensation that isn’t Hugh dims.
I kiss him back hungrily, like I’m finally getting a drink of water after being stranded at sea. Now that I’ve started, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stop. I reach my hand inside his shirt and up to his shoulder blades, pressing my chest to his, and I feel his muscles tighten.
He breaks our kiss to take a deep breath of air, and as he pulls back, I wonder if I’ve ever seen a sight so beautiful than Hugh Harris, with a deep suntan and wind-ruffled hair. A pulse of desire ripples through me, and I feel heat building between my legs.
I’ve never had such a raw physical attraction to anybody before. My heart is racing. I am aching for his touch. My nipples are hard. Our lips collide again, and he bites my bottom lip. My hips tilt towards his, and he reaches a hand around my ass and pulls me closer to him. When he kisses my neck, both of us are practically panting.
Now that I’ve tasted him, I want him so badly, focus be dammed. I start to raise my leg, to wrap my thigh around his, bringing us as close together as possible, just like my dream, when his hand slides from my ass towards my breast.
My chest arcs towards him with desire, like my body is on autopilot.
Stop. A little voice in my brain.It’s not too late. This is not what you are here to do!
I freeze, and Hugh notices. His hand stills, his fingers centimetres away from their target. They’re just barely caressing the bottom of my breast. I want his hands all over me. My nipple tightens. I want to tell him to continue so badly. I want to bite his bottom lip, I want to roll on top of him. I want him inside me.
Instead, I take in a lungful of the ocean air before I say the words I don’t want to say, but I know I should. ‘Hugh,’ I whisper. ‘We have to stop.’ Hugh’s hand is still hovering over me. ‘We’re in the middle of the boat.’
Hugh doesn’t say anything.
‘Someone could come up here any minute.’
He rolls onto his back, still quiet. I know he’s thinking what we both know – everyone else is asleep.
‘We just . . . we shouldn’t . . .’ I say finally, mimicking his posture and rolling away from him.
We both lie next to each other and stare up at the sky, our chests heaving with breath.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper.
Hugh reaches over and squeezes my hand. ‘Don’t say that.’ A minute or two passes. We stare up at the stars, blazing bright and clear above the ocean. Finally, he clears his throat. ‘So, tell me about you. What did you want to be when you grew up?’
A giggle escapes my throat. ‘That’s what you want to talk about?’
‘Well, yeah. You didn’t come up with anything better. Hey, why are you always laughing at my questions?’
‘Because you ask things like “What’s your favourite colour?” and “What do you want to be when you grow up?” and I feel like I’m in elementary school.’
‘Well, what did you want to be when you grew up? A mom? A wife? The president?’
‘Hmmm, I think if you asked six-year-old me, Madam President. But unfortunately, that ship has sailed.’
‘OK, so if Madam President is off the table, what about a mom or a wife?’
‘Women can be much more than that you know,’ I say, giving him a stern look.
I watch the profile of his face and see his cheeks scrunch with a smile. ‘Touché,’ he says.
I think about my answer. ‘I don’t want to get married as much as I want to be confident in my partner. I don’t care about marriage itself, but a lasting commitment with someone is something I really want. If I had that, I would love kids.’
Hugh is silent, staring up at the night sky.
‘What about you?’
He sighs. ‘I want that too, I think. I’m worried I’ll be really bad at it, if I’m honest. My mom and dad weren’t so great at the marriage thing . . .’
‘That doesn’t mean you won’t be.’
