Page 37 of Artfully Wild
His forearms frame my head as they push into the mattress. I pull him closer to me with my legs, needing to feel his hardness against me. Breaking the kiss, his face hovers just above mine and he seems unafraid to hold my gaze. My hands itch to touch his face, so I do. No more holding back. We search the other’s eyes, so much being said without a word uttered between us. His cheek is rough underneath my palm and I hope he continues to miss his morning shaves in the near future.
“Little sparrow,” he whispers like there’s so much more he wants to say, but he’s unsure how to say it.
“You know that is totally unfair,” I whisper back. His eyebrows raise in surprise, waiting for an explanation. “You have a nickname for me, but I don’t have one for you.”
His laugh fills the space and he plants a firm kiss on my lips. “I like the way my name sounds on your lips,” he says in a low voice. “Mr. Sinclair works too,” he jokes. “But only in the bedroom.”
I laugh, hiding my anxiety at the last word. I may have some experience, but sex isn’t one of them. Before he has a chance to deepen the kiss again, I stand and pull him up after me. I never felt the need or the want to go all the way with anyone in my past relationships and I could never figure out why. The why is probably standing in front of me now, looking at me like I am his whole world.
“C’mon, let’s get to our date,” is all I say before leading him to the front of the RV. The bedroom conversation can be a problem for future Sky.
Jacob looks over from the passenger seat and casually reaches over to place his hand on my thigh. Warmth immediately travels to my center and I grip the wheel a little bit tighter trying to focus on anything but the placement of his hand. Or about how much I want it to move a few inches.
“Still not going to give in?”
“Nope. Still a secret.”
“Okay,” he says, stroking his thumb back and forth against my leg. “Can I guess?”
“You can, but I can’t guarantee I’ll answer.”
I fix my eyes on the road ahead, but can see him in my periphery running a hand through his hair, the ends splayed in different directions until he smooths it back into place.
“Twenty questions?” He’s relentless.
“Fine.”
I turn on my blinker and turn left after two teenagers cross the street dressed in winter clothes, a few snowballs in their arms, and shit-eating grins on their faces. As we weave through the few turns that take us out of town, we both slowly relax as the car warms up and our breaths are no longer making miniature clouds in front of us.
“Have I been there before?”
“Yes.” We both have actually. Multiple times.
He leans his head back and closes his eyes. “Mmmm, have we been there together?”
“Yes.” In the middle of the night when we were supposed to be in our beds sleeping.
“Do we still go there now?”
“Not really. We haven’t been there in a long time, which is why we are going now.”
He looks in the back behind my seat and once he sees the gear I didn’t even try to hide, a look of understanding crosses his face followed by a wide Jacob smile that could rival the Cheshire Cat.
“You are sly, little sparrow,” he says and the nickname brings my sense of excitement to a different level. Hearing it on his lips in a voice much more mature than the one before, does things to me. With his eyes back on me, he asks quietly, “You like that name, don’t you?”
“I do,” I admit. “I used to hate it, but I like hearing you say it now.”
“Is that why you got the tattoo on your arm?”
My eyes widen. Typically people ignore my tattoos, not because they don’t approve of them or anything, but because I have so many, most don’t notice if I get a new one. And the sparrow is high enough that my short-sleeve shirts usually still hide most of it, besides a wing.
“You figured that out, did you?” I never told him when I got the tattoo. I don’t know why. Maybe because I was nervous he would think I got it because I had some weird obsession with him, which wouldn’t be totally incorrect, but it was more than that. It was a symbol of what our friendship meant to me. What our childhood meant. What he meant.
“I notice you, Skylar. I have never not noticed you.”
My breath hitches at his words and my brain spins in circles at the idea of Jacob noticing me when I was trying not to notice him. When I thought there was no way he could like me back.
Fuck. I feel like an idiotic teenager with thoughts swirling through my head. An uneven load in the washing machine,banging back and forth against the sides until it’s removed. Sometimes I wish I could do that to my brain. Empty it out for a moment before loading it back up with the next cycle ready to spin out of control.
