Page 120 of The Infiniteness of Yesterday
I’m playing with fire, but the problem is Iwantto get burned.
This is a dangerous game, one I should know better than to indulge in. All the things that had me call things off with Spencer in the past still exist. He’s an actor now. He’sfamouson a level I can’t comprehend, and his career is still relatively new. There’s no telling where things might continue to go for him. I don’t like that lifestyle. I don’t want that for Monroe. But I … I can no longer deny that my feelings for him have never went away, and somehow in my attempt to ignore them, they’ve grown bigger instead. Simmering somewhere I didn’t even know they existed and that kiss has unleashed them.
He steps closer to me, grazing his finger over my cheek.
“I talk about you, because even this many years later, you still consume me. You owned my heart when I was seventeen and I’ve never gotten it back. I don’twantit back. It’s yours and it’ll always be yours, even if I’m not.” I hold my breath as he gently brushes some of my hair behind my ear. He leaves his hand there, cupping my cheek and I can’t help but lean into his touch. “I’m sure most think I’m absolutely insane for not moving on, and I’ve tried, but when you’ve had the best there’s no replacing it.”
“Spencer.” Tears burn my eyes. “Be serious, how many people find the love of their life in high school?”
His eyes widen and he taps a hand over his heart. “I did, Harlow. I did.”
I believe him, I really do, and the thing I don’t want to admit is I think I did too.
I’m not sure who reaches for who first, but suddenly I’m in his arms with my legs wrapped around his waist. We’re a tangle of mouths and tongues and arms as he carries me away from the kitchen. He acts as if I weigh nothing as he goes up the stairs with me in his arms. He pushes a door open down the hall and carries me over to the bed, never breaking the kiss. He settles his big body over top of mine, the hard and insistent press of his cock pushing against me.
I reach for his shorts, but he’s quick to grab my hands, pinning them above me. His mattress feels like heaven beneath me, soft and luxurious and perfect.
He doesn’t release my hands from his hold even as he kisses his way down my neck and over my collarbone. My t-shirt has ridden up, exposing my stomach, and he pays attention to that bare skin next.
He looks up at me and the intensity in his blue eyes holds me captive. “What are we doing, Harlow?”
“I-I don’t know,” I gasp, squirming in his hold.
He wets his lips with his tongue, looking me over. Something wars behind his eyes and I desperately wish I could know what he’s thinking.
“But I know I want you,” I add. “I know I shouldn’t. I know this makes me a horrible person.”
“You’re still with Jameson.” It’s a statement, not a question, and I hear the blatant annoyance in his tone.
“Yes.” The word comes out as a broken gasp.
He closes his eyes, and I expect him to be the smart one of the two of us. To tell me he can’t, in good conscience, do what we both know is about to happen.
But instead, he shakes his head and says, “If I was a better person I’d throw you out right now, but I fucking can’t. Forgive me, because if this is my last chance I have to be with you, then I’m fucking taking it.”
His mouth is on mine again and I practically melt into his kiss. Somehow, he’s even better at it than he was when we were together, but I suppose he’s kissed many co-stars, and despite what he’s said about not sleeping with anyone, that doesn’t mean he hasn’t gone on dates and kissed other women. I shove thoughts of them out of my mind and focus on the here and now. On how my body responds to the flow of us, how we’ve always matched each other perfectly and even years apart hasn’t dimmed that connection.
My lips feel swollen and puffy by the time he lets go of my hands and slides down my body. He pops the button on my shorts and slides them down my hips and off my legs. He grins at my panties, a yellow pair with a sun embroidered on the hip.
“Cute.” He loops his fingers in the sides and yanks them down. “But I want them gone.”
When they’re off, he tosses them, and they land on the lampshade on his dresser.
“Open wider for me, baby,” he commands, urging me to spread my legs.
I oblige and whimper as he settles between them, his big shoulders forcing my legs open even more.
“Fuck,” he growls, gently spreading the folds of my pussy. “Look how pretty and wet you are.” I whimper at the praise. “You want me to lick this pussy?”
I nod vigorously. “Yes. Please. God, yes.”
He grins. “I think I like it when you beg.”
It’s still in the back of my mind, that voice askingwhat the hell are you doing?But I ignore it, because clearly, I’ve lost any shred of common sense.
At the first swipe of his tongue, I gasp. Arching my back, I tug at his hair. “Spencer,” I moan his name. His mouth feels both familiar and foreign since it’s been so long.
He laps at my core with a desperation I didn’t expect.
