Page 84 of Starrily
Simon walked over to the door across and peeked into the bathroom. “Fancy shower. Toss a coin to see who goes first?” He flashed a penny.
“Tails,” she called.
He flung the coin up, then caught it, covering it with his palm. “Heads. I win.”
Callie slumped. “Best two out of three?”
He tossed the coin again. “Heads.”
“Oh, come on. Three out of five?”
“Phoenix.” He approached, close enough that his jacket brushed against her. “If you want to go first, just say so.”
“Seems a bit unfair now.”
“Alas, life is often unfair.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “So Icango first?”
He smiled. “You may. As the confirmed coin toss winner, I’ll allow it.” He leaned on the console table. “Unless you want to go in together, of course.”
Callie, reaching for her bag, stopped. He still had that half-smile on his face, the one that was so frustratingly confusing and teasing—was he joking or not?
As she stared at him, his eyes widened. “Callie, I didn’t—”
“What if I did?” She stepped to him and looked him straight in the eye. It was a brave new day, and a brave new life. “What if I did want to go in together?”
He held her gaze wordlessly, and the corner of his mouth twitched. And then, in one fell swoop, he descended, his lips on hers; no more tentative and cautious, but bold, searching, drawing her in as if he wanted her life force itself. She tangled her fingers into his hair to secure him and hold him close while his hands lowered to her waist and then around it, feeling their way under her shirt and up the curve of her spine.
She never thought she could be so acutely aware of every touch and still feel like she was floating on clouds, enveloped in a dream. She slipped the jacket off his shoulders; one step toward the bathroom. He rolled her shirt up her waist and pulled it over her head; another step toward the bathroom. One more step—she untucked his shirt from the waist of his pants, and it joined hers on the floor. Another step—slam into the half-open door.
Simon broke the kiss and cupped her face. “Are you sure? You can still say no.”
“I’ve learned that I should say ‘no’ a little less.”
“Good.” He kissed her again. “Because I’ve wanted to do this for a while now.” He opened the door to the bathroom.
“You did?”
“I thought it was obvious.”
Wow, she really did suck at reading signs. “Then why did you keep getting us separate rooms?”
“I wasn’t sure what you thought.”
“Oh, no. We’rebothdorks.”
He smiled. “Want to get into the shower together, dork?”
She reached her hands around his neck and lifted up for another kiss. Simon explored with his mouth, from her lips to her chin and down her neck, as a trail of clothes was made, shirts and pants and underwear, leading neatly toward the shower. She was vaguely aware of the refreshing spray of water on her skin; much more of the scorching left behind in Simon’s wake. Herhands traveled up his back, held onto his shoulders, then slipped in front, past the lean, muscled chest.
She’d never kissed in the rain, but she imagined it was a bit like this, as she looked up at him, and he looked down at her: droplets falling off his hair, now a deep, burnished red. And then he lifted her up and gently pressed her against the tiled wall of the shower cabin; she wrapped her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck, and as he smiled, everything was packed into that smile: passion and gentleness, sincerity and love, and always—that bit of mischief.
And Callie saw stars—not through a telescope, but floating around her, colliding and bursting and creating something new. A universe, just for the two of them, to keep and hold on to forever. There was no perfection in space, but it was here, on Earth.
With Simon.
Chapter 20
