Page 46 of Power Moves
Archie’s eyes crinkle and I know he’s about to smile. He inches closer and my breathing wavers. I feel his legs press against mine and there is a sudden heat below my belly button that I will definitely never mention to anyone—ever. These are the sneaky moves of a Tinder expert, and I am capitulating like a novice. I need to refocus.
I incline my head backwards, craving the space to regather my thoughts, but it’s a rookie move. My throat is exposed. He could go in for the kill, and he does. His fingers cup my neck and his thumb strokes the skin behind my earlobe. Hissmile has vanished, replaced by an expression I’ve never seen before.
I’m going to combust. My body is on fire. I hope to dear god this full-body response isn’t visible to the naked eye because there’s nowhere to hide. My heart is hammering in my chest. My bloodstream is a chaotic, bubbling mess. I can see the faint five o’clock shadow on his jaw and the smile lines around his eyes. I am very unclear on how to proceed when our hips are in such close proximity. Back away and he’s won; get any closer and I’ll burst into flames.
My body makes the decision for me: I go on the offensive. My fingers slide into his hair, and immediately everything is better. This gloriously thick hair will help me think straight. My fingernails scrape his scalp and his eyes roll back in pleasure as he sinks a little, as though his legs can’t hold him. I move my hands to the nape of his neck to rub tiny circles behind his jaw.
Archie responds quickly. He grabs my butt and pulls me closer. His fingers sweep up my back, onto my bare shoulders and down again.
This may be the most messed-up game we’ve ever played butholy dooley, I haven’t been held like this in forever. I have forgotten the joy of good old-fashioned hands-over-clothes touching. I can’t help it: I giggle. This is ridiculous. We’re losing our minds.
‘Millsy,’ Archie moans, which makes me giggle more. ‘Don’t do this right now. Don’t ruin this moment.’
I can’t help it. The laughter is ricocheting through me and it’s building exponentially with every second. I’m laughing sohard that I might snort but I’m still clinging to him. I can’t let him win because I got the giggles. I knot my fingers into the cotton of his shirt, as I try and fail to calm myself. My head falls into his chest as I lose any remaining self-restraint. ‘There’s only one way,’ I wheeze, ‘to make me stop.’
Archie jolts upright, then grins and drops his mouth to my ear.
‘If you say so,’ he whispers.
CHAPTER 20
Archie’s lips dip within a millimetre of mine before he pauses fractionally, eyes questioning.
A reckless charge shoots through me.
I nod.
Before I can compute what’s going on, his lips graze mine. They’re warm and light like mist, or the faintest sprinkle of sugar on a fresh cinnamon donut. A ripple of exhilaration rolls down my core but before I can fully enjoy it, his mouth vanishes. His hands slide off me.
He grips the edge of the bench as though he’s bracing himself, and exhales deeply. So do I. I feel cheated. That kiss was so insubstantial it was practically non-existent.
I’m suddenly conscious that this is a very dangerous game we’re playing. This is where we either prepare for landing or jump out of the plane.
My hands move without conscious thought. There’s nothing rational about what I’m doing but I can’t stop myself. I grabhis shirt and tug him back. We’re plummeting. No parachute. The earth is a tiny speck below us. We can freefall forever.
He pulls my hips flush against him; my thighs tighten around his butt. I press my mouth against his and instantly, my body feels the weightlessness of a rollercoaster drop. His lips part and the sensation of his tongue against mine sets off fireworks behind my eyes. His teeth glide along my lower lip, his fingers weave into my hair; my breathing is suddenly shallow and I can’t help but smile because it’s hilarious. Of courseArchie would be an excellent kisser.
I run my fingers up his back and arch into him as his hands roam up and down my sides. With every movement of our lips, the heat builds until it feels like there’s electricity firing to all my nerve endings. He’s caressing, then firm, and the push and release is so agonisingly perfect, I feel a strange compulsion to congratulate him.
This doesn’t mean anything, this doesn’t mean anything, I remind myself. This is a game of chicken, nothing more. We’re two people who like to win and whose bodies happen to fit together remarkably well. Tomorrow, I’ll email him the NAPLAN data and sign itBest, Camilla, and everything will go back to normal.This doesn’t mean anything.
My emerald dress moves like silk beneath his hands. His chest pushes against mine and I match him for pressure.
We’re swimming against the tide, waves crashing over our heads, but still, we’re not coming up for air. His palms spread wide around my ribcage. I weave my hands under his shirt and my fingernails graze his skin. When his thumb strokes the curve of my breast, I can’t help the gasp that escapes me.
I need to shock him too. My fingers lunge for him, pulling him closer, as though we can melt together like dual-flavour soft-serve. His teeth catch my lip a little harder this time and my breathing wavers.
Archie pulls away slightly, panting as though he’s paused mid-race. ‘I’d like to alter the terms of our truce.’
‘Is that what this is?’ His hands are in my hair and my fingers are laced through his beltloops.
Archie shifts his head back and takes a long breath. ‘We extend the truce. We keep playing the New Friends Game.’
I hold his stare and my neck pulses with heat under his hands. ‘It’s a hard no from me.’
‘Bad decision,’ says Archie. His mouth moves back to mine. For the millionth time I have to remember:This doesn’t mean anything. His fingers settle on the zipper that starts at my lower back and I do not want tothinkabout the possibility of that zipper being undone.
‘Imagine the fun we could have,’ he breathes between kisses.
