Page 42 of Waiting For Ever
He curls his hands around the underside of my legs and squeezes, his faceinches from mine.
I shrug in his embrace. “Dubious honor?” I say it like a question, but I’m not looking for an answer. Graduation ceremonies are unnecessarily long and tedious, and finishing high school remotely seemed a great excuse to avoid it all.
“Well, my little genius, I think it’s a big deal—especially since you finished early.”
His breath heats my parted lips. They catch his exhale as my hands rise from the edge of the counter where my fingers curl around the granite. They land delicately on his biceps. His muscles contract at my touch. I glide my hands up his arms to his shoulders, then the sides of his neck. His pulse thuds under my palms.
“Say it again.” My nails curl into his skin at the nape of his neck, urging him closer.
“Say what?” His lids flutter closed, and a low, almost undetectable growl sounds from his throat just before his lips meet mine. A light kiss at first.
I tilt my head and lean in, pressing our lips together harder, pulling him closer, my nails digging in just a little more.
His lips close over my bottom lip, sucking softly. The wayward curl that always falls on his forehead tickles my temple before his tongue meets mine, soft and cool and tasting like champagne. My legs tighten around his waist and my body inches closer. His hands curl around my lower back and down, cupping my ass. He scoots me all the way off the counter, carrying me now, never breaking the kiss. With my eyes closed, still kissing him, I can tell we’re moving out of the kitchen and down the hall. To his bedroom. He wraps both arms around my back tightly, pressing every part of my torso against him. The heat rushing to my lower region has me grinding against him.
Julian’s strength turns me on. He effortlessly carries me into his room. Him calling me his? Swoon-worthy. More low light flickers from a small candle on his dresser, another reflecting off the mirror in the attached bathroom. The slider is open in here too and the breeze coming in cools my fevered skin. Still holding me, still kissing me, he leans one knee on his bed. With my eyes still closed, lost in the kiss, I feel the dip. Smoother than a Hollywood sex scene, he lays me down on the bed. As soon as my back meets the cushion of the mattress, I unwrap my legs from his hips and he settles his body between them, his excitement hard against my inner thigh. He doesn’t press into me, so I fight the urge to press into him. My body knows what it wants, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I tell myself not to think, just feel. I want him to set the pace, show me how. And I want him to call me his again. His lips pull back from mine and my eyes flutter open to drown in the deep blue of his.
“Hi, pretty girl.” He traces a finger down my cheek as he says it.
“Hi, Julie.” My lashes lower and my cheeks heat.
“Congratulations.”
“You already said that.”
He made that low chuckling sound I love and pecks my lips with his, resting his forehead on mine. “You told me to say it again.” Then his lips lightly kiss the tip of my nose.
“Not that part. You said ‘my little genius before.’” I lower my eyes to hide my neediness.
“Ohhh. You like being called genius. Well, you are. I’m proud of you, Ever.”
“Not that part. You said ‘my.’” My voice is barelyabove a whisper.
He lifts his head in acknowledgment, then rests his forehead on mine for a second. Bringing his lips to my ear, he whispers, “You want to be mine, Ever?”
“M-hm.” I nod and trace a fingernail around the shell of his ear.
His low deep laugh tickles my ear before he says, “What am I gonna do with you?”
“Are you asking for suggestions? Because I was hoping you’d lead.”
He barks a loud short laugh, pecking me soundly on the lips. “My sassy girl.” With another quick kiss, he rolls off the bed and stands as he says, “I’ll be right back.”
Without his body covering mine, the cool breeze wafting in from the open slider chills my skin. An involuntary shiver sends me to the slider, closing it. I stand with my arms wrapped around me, gazing out into the darkness of the lake. I can see the surface reflected in the moonlight. Beautiful and dark, promising and haunting.
Julian comes back with our glasses of champagne. He hands me one and takes a small sip of his.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink. I thought maybe you didn’t,” I say as I take a sip.
“I really don’t. An occasional beer, but I just don’t care for it, I guess.”
“Bad experience?”
“You could say that.”
“But you don’t want to talk about it.” And really, neither do I, but this is a rare time I felt the need to fill the silence.
Julian sees through it. He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear and says, “I just wanted to celebrate you and your milestone. That calls for a toast. And . . . I thought it would be . . .relaxing.”
