Page 126 of Light in the Dark
I close my eyes and lose myself in the kiss. Breathe his breath. Taste his tongue. Relish the hungry power in his hands as they scrape down my neck, clutch my arms, scour the line of my spine, grip my ass.
Guilt tries to make a break for it, bubbling up in my throat and threatening a panic attack.
I break the kiss and rest my forehead on his. "Sorry, I…I need a second."
Felix pulls back and carves a loose tendril of my hair behind my ear. "Okay." He tilts my head up, exposing my throat. "Can I do this?"
He ghosts his lips against my jawline, breath huffing hot over my skin, kisses my throat in a dozen different places, each kiss softer and sweeter than the last—and more arousing.
"Yes…" I breathe. “That's good. I like that."
He tugs the neck of my shirt aside and kisses my collarbone. The base of my throat. Up one side of my neck and then down the other.
"Felix," I breathe.
"Tell me what you want," he whispers. “Tell me what you need."
"Just…a little more."
"Where?"
I know what I want, but I'm scared to ask for it—scared I'll panic and bolt…and I donotwant to run away. I want to be with him. I want to make love with him. Fuck him. Have sex. Whatever phrase you wanna use, that's what I want. And I willnotlet my fear and irrational, but understandable, guilt stop me.
Felix reads my hesitation for what it is. “Say the word and everything stops," he murmurs. "And the word in this case is 'wait.'"
He tilts me away a bit, creating room between us. Works his fingers under the hem of my shirt. His eyes find mine and search me, waiting, assessing.
He lifts my shirt a few inches, and the slow, hesitant way he slides it up triggers a memory:
Dutchie and I in the bed in the back of Pumpkin, parked in an RV campground in Bozeman, Montana, his fingers hesitantly guiding my T-shirt up.
Felix’s gaze holds mine, waiting for my objection.
I squeeze my eyes shut. "Fuck."
His hands vanish, rest on my thighs. "Hey, it's fine."
I shake my head. "No, it's not. It's not fair to you."
"Fuck that noise, Em. All I give a shit about is you. I want to make you feel good. But only if you’re okay with it. If it's too hard, then we wait."
"The problem is that I'm pretty sure it'll always be too hard. I don'twantto wait. I want to do this with you. I just…"
"What, Ember?"
"I'm having…I don't think flashbacks is the right word. Just…memories." I seize my courage. Exhale sharply. "I want this. I'm not going to let the past dictate the future. I promised Dutchie I'd let myself move on, and I'm going to keep that promise—for him and for myself.” I reach for him, find hot skin and hard muscle. "I just have to…face my feelings. Stop running from them."
“Tell me what you need from me, Ember." His eyes are serious, intense.
"Just…kiss me. Kiss me and don't stop."
His answer is a rough, ravenous growl that sends goosebumps shivering over my flesh, sets my stomach to flipping and my thighs to clenching. He frames my face and claims my mouth, rakes his tongue through my lips. I open for him greedily and whimper at the fury of his kiss; I glory in the firm swell of his bulging biceps and the hard slab of his abs. Devour his tongue, let desire well in my core, give myself over to it.
My whimper sets him off—when he hears it, his hands tighten in my hair and he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. I explore the round hardness of his shoulders, the rippling field of his broad, muscular back. My fingers dive up into his hair. Down to the waist of his shorts, dip under the elastic…discovering he's commando under the shorts.
And god, those shorts. They're short and tight, barely containing the tremendous girth of his thighs—yes, I said girth. His thighs are girthy. It’s fucking hot.
The shorts cling to the boulders of his ass.
