Page 16 of Freak
As he finished, he snapped his mouth shut, suddenly doubtful. That was a lot. It was all true, but it might be too much. Probably it was too much.
Abigail had stared up at him throughout that speech, her eyes wide and her forehead furrowed. She continued staring for about ten times longer than he could comfortably abide, but he let her take her time.
“Those were beautiful words,” she finally said, her voice soft and uncharacteristically hesitant. “But I’m not sure what all they mean.”
Mel’s most powerful desire in that moment was to kiss her—to grab her perfect, heart-shaped face in his hands and plant his mouth on hers. That should clear up the question handily.
But if she pushed him off ... in this moment, he thought that clear a rejection might cut deep enough to bleed. He could take a verbal rejection far better than a physical one, and he’d put himself out there already about as far as he could and still retain some dignity.
So he gave her the chance to say no. “It means I want to kiss you, Abigail. It means I like you like that.”
He didn’t know how to interpret her swift intake of breath.
In for a penny... his grandfather muttered inside his ear. As a final foray, Mel asked still more directly. “Can I kiss you?”
Still she only stared, now without even a gasp to wonder about. The pulse point at the side of her throat fluttered like she’d trapped a butterfly there, but he didn’t dare try to guess what that might mean.
When the silence seemed endless, he finally backed off. “Okay. Sorry, I—”
She grabbed his shirt, hooking her hand in the space between the plackets, over the topmost closed button. Her fingers brushed against his bare chest, and Mel felt that feathery touch like each fingertip was a live wire.
“Please,” she whispered.
Was that possibility he sensed in her quiet word?
“Please what?” he asked, pitching his voice to a murmur like hers. He stepped in again and covered her hand with his. “What, Abs? Just tell me.”
“Please kiss me.”
An electric jolt slammed into his chest. “You want that? Want me?”
Her eyes still wide and fixed on his, Abigail nodded.
He’d been waiting, hoping, for a sign, some indication that she’d felt the same pull he’d been feeling for weeks. Until now, there’d been nothing. But that nod was no mere sign. It was an answer.
Cupping her soft cheeks in the work-toughened palms she’d studied earlier, Mel kissed her.
As his lips touched hers, she sighed, the same soft, high-pitched sound she made when she slipped the first spoon of her homemade peach ice cream onto her tongue. Mel couldn’t help but chuckle, and it made her do the same. Then her hands skimmed over his arms, from wrist to shoulder; she slid her arms around his neck, and he felt her fingers sink into his hair.
Encouraged, Mel deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue between the plush pillows of her cupid’s-bow lips. She tasted like a fading memory of apple cider and lemon blueberry crumble, she smelled like something woodsy and floral, and her soft, ample chest pressed snugly to him as she took in a breath and sighed it into his mouth.
That wild current surged through his chest, speeding his heart and frothing his blood. All summer he’d thought of her. First with worry and protective outrage; then friendship had rooted, and with affection came the sprout of something more. For weeks now, each thought of her had brought on the telltale twitch low in his gut, the one that ushered in a more pronounced twitch farther south.
And now here she was, in his arms, their tongues moving together, learning the choreography of their pairing, a dance new yet familiar, too. And he was so hard he hurt, an intensity he hadn’t felt in, shit, probably decades.
It really had been decades since he’d felt this hot for a woman. Since his twenties, he’d preferred easy encounters, convenient sex, the kind that literally dropped into his lap, was over when it was over, and everybody went back to what they’d been doing. It kept his life streamlined and simple, his obligations and burdens few. It was the life he wanted.
Or maybe it was the life he’dthoughthe’d wanted.
For this particular woman, he was on fire. All five of his senses were so full of her he thought he might start hallucinating, a sixth sense forming to handle the overload.
Hit with a sudden need to imprint the whole of her wonderfully soft body on his skin, he dropped his hands from her face, sent them around her, and drew her tightly to him, taking the kiss deeper as well.
That was the moment Abigail retreated. She closed her mouth gently and tipped her head back, her face tilted up but her eyes still closed. Her fingers were linked on his nape, and she didn’t release them.
She hadn’t pulled any farther back, she didn’t seem ready to let go of him, and Mel didn’t know what to do.
“Abs?” he asked in a whisper, hoping not to break the spell.
