I step in front of him, placing a hand over his racing heart. We’re both silent, and when he finally heaves out a sigh, his muscles relax.
“Gabriel texted me about the party on Sunday.” He swallows, his jaw still tight and his features tense. “It’s at my parents’ house.”
He’s alluded to not having a good relationship with them, though he’s never told me why, and I haven’t pressed. It’s obvious this is a surprise to him, and not a happy one.
“Tell me what you’re thinking. What you’re feeling.” I know he doesn’t want to. I know I wouldn’t. “I want to understand.”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been there in years, but I told Cece I’d be at her party. They’ve always been at Gabe’s house.” He rests a hand over mine, still on his chest. “I try not to miss out on my siblings’ big moments, you know? As long as it means I’m not going to the house. It’s… I don’t want to cause a scene or make things weird for anyone.” His fingers wrap around mine, and I step closer to him. “I haven’t talked to my dad in three years. I don’t even know if it’s because I’m too stubborn or because he is anymore.”
His admission makes my heart hurt for him. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, bringing my other hand to cup his cheek. “It won’t be easy, but I’ll be there with you. To support you. To be whatever you need.”
Lowering his forehead to mine, he whispers, “Thank you.” We stand together for a moment as he lets me carry some of this burden for him. Arthur is strong and solid, but it’s in the moments where he lets me see his softness that I feel the closest to him.
He turns his face to plant a kiss on the palm of my hand, lifting it to kiss my wrist. It’s a simple move, but it’s a tectonic shift in our relationship that we’ll be feeling indefinitely.
TWENTY-EIGHT
I’ve had to do all the touching myself
Arthur
My lips shift to her wrist as her hand lowers from my chest, over my belly button, and finally to where my towel hangs. With a flick of her wrist, it falls to my feet, and her gaze falls to where I am very much naked.
“Alice,” I warn, dropping her hand as I look for any ounce of self-control I might have left in me.
“Do you have any condoms?” She peels off the sweats she must have just put on, then lets my flannel shirt she wears almost every night join them in a pile on the floor.
“Yeah.” The single word comes out strained, and I bite my fist when she turns and slips her T-shirt off, walking into my room in nothing but a white cotton thong.
Fuck, this woman is my undoing. My end and my beginning. If I wasn’t already in love with her, I am now.
My brain finally catches up with what’s happening and tells my legs to move. When I stumble into my room, she turns around, but suddenly her eyes widen at somethingbehind me, and she covers her chest. Twisting to see what’s shocked her, I find the culprit.
My dog is trying to cock block me right now? I think not. I slam the door shut before he can sneak inside. As I turn back to my girl, she’s got one hand covering her mouth to stifle her giggles, so I rush to move her hand away.
“Your laugh is the best sound in the world. Please never hide it from me.” Kissing her fingers, I pull her close, and can’t help my groan when we’re finally chest-to-chest, skin-to-skin.
Fuck, this feels good.
Burying my face in her neck, I run my hand up her spine until my fingers reach the back of her head, tangling in her curls.
“I love it when you do that.” She sighs as my tongue meets her skin, and when I pull her head back, she moans, fingers pressing into my back hard enough that I feel her blunt nails dig in. “More,” she begs.
In a swift move, I pick her up and lay her on my bed, committing every detail to memory, from how her curls fan out over my pillow to the way her golden eyes shine, even in the dim light. Her bronze skin glows against the white sheets, and as I hover over her, she reaches down to slide her thong off, wiggling until it’s lost in the sheets.
She reaches for me at the same time I lean down to kiss her. Instantly our hands are everywhere, touching every inch of skin, and when I reach her hip, she lifts her knee, spreading herself open for me. With feather-light touches, I tease the inside of her thigh as she writhes underneath me.
“I’ve thought about touching you so many times,” I confess.
“Me too,” she pants out. “But you’ve been torturingme with nothing but kisses for weeks, so I’ve had to do all the touching myself.”
Fuck. She’s been touching herself across the hall? All while I’ve been holding back, taking it slow, trying not to rush anything, trying not to fall even harder for her than I already have.
“Have you touched yourself thinking about me, baby?” Her response is a nod, cheeks turning red at the admission. “Do you use toys on yourself, wishing it was me?” A headshake this time.
“I don’t have any,” she says as I inch my hand closer to where she wants me. “Just my fingers, and they’re never enou—” She ends on a gasp when my thumb runs from her entrance to her clit. “Oh my—Yes.” Her back arches when I spread her wetness around it. I push the tip of my finger into her, and the sound she makes have me hissing in a breath as I thrust my hips against her leg, searching for friction.
“Like this,” I mumble. She hums, circling her hips as I push deeper into her. “I want you like this every day.” When I add a second finger, she closes her eyes, throwing her head back. I give her a few slow strokes, loving the way she squeezes my fingers.
