Page 92 of Collide
Still holding back.
“Can I ask you something?” I venture.
He nods once.
“Are you embarrassed by your job or something? I mean…it just feels like a normal thing people talk about.”
He opens his mouth, then closes it. “Elena, I…”
But whatever he’s trying to say, it stays lodged somewhere behind his eyes.
I shift closer, nestling into him. Letting it go. For now.
The silence stretches between us, not uncomfortable, just full. The light from the tank glows against the walls, the kelp swaying in slow motion. It feels like we’re underwater too, suspended in something soft and private.
“I hope one day you can trust me enough to tell me,” I whisper.
“I think we’ll get there,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against my temple. “I just want you to know me for me.”
“Okay.”
He pulls me down with him, and we lie there together, surrounded by glowing water and the flicker of electric candles. I tuck myself into him. He turns to kiss me, slow and certain, one hand on the small of my back.
He shifts slightly, hovering over me now. The kiss deepens, his tongue caressing mine in slow circular motions. My fingersthread into his hair, pulling him closer. I lose myself in the warmth of his mouth, in the weight of him above me.
Then he breaks the kiss, breath grazing my cheek.
“Can I make you feel good?” he asks, voice ragged, eyes locked on mine.
“You want to touch me again?”
“Please.”
I tilt my head, teasing. “Why haven’t you asked me to have sex with you?”
He lets out a low laugh, as if I’ve knocked the wind out of him. “Do you want me to?”
“Not tonight,” I say, biting my lip. “But eventually…maybe.”
He smiles, that slow, disarming smile that always seems to reach his eyes. “When you’re ready, Elena.”
His mouth finds mine again, softer this time.
“There aresomany things we can do before then,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Is there?”
“Oh, yeah.” He kisses the corner of my mouth, the line of my jaw. “I want to take my time with you.”
His hand trails down my neck, across my collarbone, and lower still, until he’s cupping me through my top, his palm warm and claiming. A soft moan escapes me, unbidden.
“I want to savor every minute of your innocence.”
He drifts lower, fingertips brushing down my stomach, swirling his warmth, seeping through the fabric. My breath catches. Every inch of me is alive, humming in anticipation.
“You’re a rare beauty,” he murmurs.
His hand slides to the button of my jeans, popping it open with ease.
