She continues talking, a bite to her voice. “I tend to keep my makeup on my face. And you would have, too, if you wouldn’t talk nonsense about kissing me. We’ve done it already. It wouldn’t be smart to do it again when we have to go back to normal come Monday.”
I drop the bottle and step closer to her, re-angling myself so that she’s forced against the beige wall. Through my smirk, I whisper, “‘It wouldn’t be smart?’ Who said anything about being smart? You said what happens here stays here. Besides, I think you should know what your makeup tastes like. For research. Who knows? Maybe you can write this scene into one of your books.”
She glances at her feet then back to me, firmly setting her jaw. “You don’t have the brush. You can’t do anything.” The trembling challenge dripping in her voice is something I can’t back down from.
I laugh quietly and place my hands on either side of her head.I want her desperately…
Our foreheads touch, and she tilts her chin up ever so slightly. “The taste remains on my lips, Lucy May.” I slide my tongue across my top lip. “On my tongue.”
She whimpers, black-coated eyelashes fluttering closed while her pale pink lips part.
And in all transparency, I mutter a curse word.
“Lucy,” I growl her name again as I ball my hands into fists against the wall. She might have been trying to be polite in saying no with her smart phrase earlier, so I have to know for sure before I let myself lose control. “Say the word and I’ll stop.”
She sighs, practically undoing me. “Don’t stop.”
I suck in a breath before closing my eyes and start removing her lipstick with my mouth. The moment her lips touch mine, I know last night wasn’t a fluke. The woman tastes like she was tailor-made to my liking.
Her hands slide up my waist, across my chest, and then tangle in my hair as she tugs me closer. Or maybe she’s pulling herself closer to me.
I can’t tell.
All I know is that my hands have wandered on their own accord, and I hoist her against the wall. Her legs instantaneously wrap around my hips as I deepen the kiss. The minty taste of her cleanses away the chemical compound flavor with every passing second while also rewriting the code of my brain.
My control completely snaps.
I pull back from the kiss, groaning her name through another curse as I carry her the short distance to my childhood bedroom. I set her down on top of the unmade gray bed sheets, watching in building anticipation as her back hits the bed. I lean over her, holding my weight with one arm while my other hand runs up her bare leg. I thought seeing Lucy in athletic shorts and an oversizedt-shirt was a treat earlier this morning since she’s usually dolled up. Now I’m extra thankful for the attire.
She moans my name, and I never want to hear it said any other way again. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she drags my lips down to hers.
How can—
I mean—
That was—
Whoa.
Feelings. Massive feelings. Hit-with-a-baseball-in-the-eye type feelings. Tackled-by-a-250-pound-linebacker type feelings. Cast-iron-skillet-to-the-face type feelings. Feelings I can’t even begin to dissect or name.
I continue to spin and reel as I put my t-shirt back on. How can a person do that to another person? Make someone feel like a detonated bomb? Sure, the books dramatize kisses and intimate moments with that sort of language, but what transpired between me and Lucy was not fiction.
That was very,veryreal.
And terrifying.
Who knows what would have happened had my mom not burst through the front door downstairs and announced her presence, sending Lucy darting from underneath me like a skittishlittle lion.
Oh, I know. I would have claimed her as my own right there on my childhood bed. Claimed her in more ways than I already had.
Mom and Brother Johnny put groceries away downstairs, and I feel an inkling of guilt creep in. We didn’t go all the way, though, so I shove it down and head to check on Lucy.
Knocking on the bathroom door, I ask her if she can finish covering the bruises under my eyes. When she opens the door, I can’t help but smile at her frazzled but pleased state. Her eyes shine with new light and the trace of sadness that had been as a rain cloud over her aura for a while has evaporated.
I did that to her.
“Is my hair okay?” she whispers.
