Page 70 of Pictures in Blue
She sets the sapling down carefully on the coffee table and levels her gaze with mine, all amusement and embarrassment gone from the room. Heat pools behind her eyes and hunger grows low in my stomach.
“Come here,” I say—almost as a growl—and she listens.
We crash into each other, hands, tongues, our bodies meshing as one, hands frantically exploring. One of my hands is tangled in her hair, the other on the curve of her ass and nothing I pictured before could compare to actually feeling it. She’s perfect in every way and I am done for.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
AVERY
Idon’t have time to react before his lips are on mine. The fiery heat in the beginning of the kiss dissipates into a slow, tender rhythm. Hesitant and calm, but sure of itself.
I wrap my arms around him to pull him closer, my hands tangling in his hair, mirroring his a second ago, tugging him closer. He groans and deepens the kiss, his tongue finding mine again.
All of our walls we spent so much time building up and hiding behind come crashing down and crumple into a pile of rubble at our feet. We’ve crossed the imaginary lines I tried to draw between us, and there’s no going back.
His hand finds my breast above the fabric I thought was too thin earlier. It feels entirely too thick now. Too much between his hand and my skin.
He squeezes softly and I hear myself gasp beneath his touch. My body squirms as I try to get closer to him. His warmth. I need his clothes off now. I need to feel him. His skin on mine. I need the heat of him to surround me like the fire roaring in his living room, chasing the chill from my bones.
I can feel his hardness pressed against me through his jeans. I reach my hand to grip him through the rough fabric. He tugs my shirt above my head breaking contact with me. For that brief moment the chill comes back to my body, but he wastes no time taking back his place in front of me.
His eyes burn into mine. “Let me see you,” he says. A shiver snakes down my spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps.
Slowly, I grab the top of my leggings and tug them down with my underwear. Then, never breaking my eyes from his, I reach behind me to unclasp my bra, letting it fall to the floor, a whisper of fabric landing between us.
I stand under the intensity of his gaze and let him look up and down and back up again. I’ve never laid myself out there like this for anyone before. Never even for myself. With past boyfriends, I always crossed my arms, left partial clothes on or kept the lights off. Whatever it was, my body was always hidden in one way or another. I never wanted to fully show it in fear that it wasn’t good enough.
I have wider hips than most women and petite wouldn’t be a word to describe me. I have curves. Thick thighs. Broad shoulders. Love handles that stubbornly remain no matter how much running I do. Skin I can grab and pinch in the mirror, wishing to pluck it off like cotton candy at the carnival.
“Fucking hell, Avery,” he says quietly, like he’s afraid if he says it any louder I’ll run. Usually, I would want to. Usually, I would feel like fleeing at the first sign of vulnerability, but with Hudson, it feels different. The way his eyes roam over my body, like he cannot get enough of me. And for once, I feel something other than unworthy. I feel empowered. I lift my chin, and let myself gaze at him in what I think is a seductive way. It must work, because he takes a sharp inhale and a deeper hunger enters his eyes and I want nothing more than to fill it.
It feelsgood; like my body isn’t something he would pick apart, listing the ways it could be better or the way that it could be different than what it is. I have a feeling he would look at me the same way he is now if I weighed 50 pounds more.
“Your turn,” I say, my eyes landing on the bulge trying to escape his jeans. Mimicking what I did a few moments ago, he slowly pushes his pants down over his ankles and stands in front of me completely open.
I push the thought aside and study him. His muscular chest. The planes of his torso and the forearms I have grown to become obsessed with in such a short span of time. The tension stretches between us, a tether connecting us together the string taut with no room to move. Our eyes continue to roam over each other until the tether snaps and we collide with one another again.
I don’t even remember telling my legs to move. Maybe I didn’t. Maybe he closed the distance between us. Whichever it is, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is the feeling of his calloused hands running through the strands of my hair. His breath leaves a trail of heat behind as he plants kisses down my jaw and continuing to my throat.
A soft moan escapes my lips when he reaches the place where my collarbone meets my neck. I never knew that I was so sensitive there, but I’m elated that we’re discovering it together. A subtle secret my body held onto just for him. I wonder how many more it's hiding and if Hudson will be the one to discover them, like gems in a treasure chest. Held close, hidden behind a hard exterior until someone gently pries it open, finding the beauty within.
My gems are hidden behind an exterior so thick, nothing short of a crane could open it. But slowly, gently, Hudson is prying it open, discovering my secrets and treasures hidden deep beneath the surface. Ones that I have kept close to my heart to avoid the pain I am all too familiar with.
I am thrust back into the moment when Hudson’s hand finds the wetness between my legs.
“There you are,” he murmurs against my throat. His lips find mine again as his hand works me, coaxing sounds out of me I’ve never heard before. His finger circles my opening. Slow, teasing. Taunting.
“Hudson, please,” I beg.
“Mmmm, I like you begging,” he says in a deep sultry voice. Breathless and filled with lust.
He pushes me backward, his hand never leaving the spot between my legs, until the back of my calves collide with the sectional. I sit, trying to pull him on top of me but he positions me on the couch seated as he kneels in front of me.
My cheeks heat with the realization of what he’s about to do. “Hudson, wait.” I stall him, hiding behind my hands. “I’ve never…uh—” shit, this feels way too embarrassing to admit.
“Hey, wait. Don’t do that,” he says, straightening up and pulling my hands away from my face. I want to hide. The familiar feeling washes over me and I want to collect my gems, build my exterior back up and wait for the tide to wash me away. “Don’t hide from me,” he says. The sincerity in his voice startles me.
Two weeks.I remind myself.
