Liaden
Wasthat the wrong thing to say?
I can’t tell. He’s staring at me with his mouth slightly open, looking like I just clonked him around the head with a sledgehammer. With that, and the way his hair is still dripping and his t-shirt is clinging to his damp skin, he looks edible. But he’s also frozen to the spot, and I wonder if my runaway mouth has scared him. I was regularly admonished as a child and a teenager for being too blunt, and I never really understood why that was wrong. Why not just say what you mean? Isn’t that simpler and more straightforward than always prevaricating?
I analyse the words I just said to Dean, and they communicate exactly what I wanted to express. So why am I getting nervous myself now?
Why am I squirming as his eyes lock with mine?
Why is the air crackling, alive with the possibility of what we could share if we just take that chance?
For ages, he just stares at me, like he’s not sure if this is really happening or is just a dream.I’m sorry, what?
I have two choices now.
I can back off, reassure him that it’s OK and that we absolutely can go back to the way it was, and just accept the fact that things aren’t going to happen between us. Which would be both unrealistic, since the genie would be out of the bottle, and exceptionally disappointing…
Or I can lay my cards on the table and encourage him to do the same. Because being in this limbo of frustrated arousal and please-touch-my-pussyfooting is unbearable. If it’s a no, at least it’s out there, and I’ll be able to reframe and act accordingly around him.
But I want his lips on mine if I can get them. Badly enough to risk everything.
Making the easy decision, I walk slowly towards him until he’s looking straight down at my face, and I’m relieved when he doesn’t back away. “I said I want you to kiss me,” I say quietly, and his eyes widen. He’s mesmerised, holding his breath as our gaze locks. His eyes darken as I wet my lips. “Should I stop wishing for that and let it go?”
Long seconds past, my pulse hard enough to surely be heard, and fast enough to make my vision throb. Finally, he shakes his head jerkily, and places his right hand on my hip. Warmth radiates where he touches, physical contact whichheinitiated. Experimentally, I lift my hand to his chest and slowly move it up towards his shoulders. His skin jumps slightly at my touch,his breath catching, and it’s a relief that all pretences between us have dropped. No more masks, no more of our ‘just good friends’ nonsense; just him and me, honest and open desire in our eyes at last.
Ithasto come from him. I know in my heart that he has to be the one to choose this, to choose me, to decide to take that step. I inch forward until our lips are a mere couple of inches apart, but I won’t go further. I can feel his breath mingling with mine, and it’s erotic as fuck on this precipice, wondering if he’ll jump, willing him to with every fibre of my being. He’s torn. I can feel it, close up to him like this. He wants to, but he’s afraid. I stay still. It has to come from him. Ithasto come from him.It has to -
With a tentative sway, his mouth brushes mine, brief and feather soft. He looks startled for a second, like he’s surprised himself, and seemingly finds reassurance in my eyes that it was very welcome. The backs of his fingers trail gently down my face, making me quiver, and then he pulls me to him and kisses me like a man starved. I clutch onto him, smiling as his lips meld to mine like they’ve always been there, my soul crashing and exploding with joy, triumph, yes, YES, he did it, he leapt, he kissed me, thankgod…
He walks me backwards, his mouth never leaving mine, until my back is flush against the wall and his whole body presses into me. His mop of hair, a darker bronze from his shower, is still dripping wet, but I don’t care. I grip onto it anyway, encouraging him to keep going, almost pleading with him to never stop with the way I clutch it. I don’t need to beg, though; he kisses me like his whole life has been leading up to this moment, which has finally arrived, and he’s making the most of every second. I’m engulfed by that delicious clean lemon scent of Dean,myDean now, even if he’s only mine for these brief minutes. He tastes like fresh toothpaste and warmth and…home. A taste bothfamiliar and brand new, as though something has finally clicked into place and now I’m where I’m supposed to be. And it’s fairly stunning to realise that, after a lifetime of misapprehension, the place I’m supposed to be has nothing to do with my academic career, is not in a particular university, or with a specific network or publishing house. It’s here, in this damaged, silent man’s arms. His fingers tighten on my hips as his tongue licks deeper into my mouth, his lips kissing me harder until I’m happily breathless. He’s making up for lost time, and I’m a lucky woman to be the recipient of such a build-up, to be the target when his inner fire was unleashed at last. I can feel how badly he wants to move his hands from my hips to the rest of my body, but he’s like a high school boy not wanting to push his luck and scare me off. He couldn’t possibly. Nothing this man could do to me would frighten me away from him at this point. The kiss continues to build, both feeding off each other to escalate it until it’s this wild, hungry thing that thoroughly binds us both to each other, leaving us gasping and trembling in each other’s arms.
What an amazing pay-off to the long build up. I can feel his erection pressed tightly up against my mound, and when I grind ever so slightly against it, he shivers and bites my lower lip, hard, in an unexpectedly sensual move. He gasps in shock at what he’s done, and smooths my hair away until he’s cupping my face in both his hands. I feel precious. It’s novel. It’s addictive.
He mouths something at me. Dazed, I look at his mouth again, and he repeats,I’m sorry, running his thumb gently over my lower lip in contrition. I catch it with my teeth and return the favour with a smile. “Don’t apologise,” I whisper, “I loved it.”
Keen to prolong the moment, I rest my forehead against his chest, nearly swooning when I feel him kiss my hair.Damn. This went better than I’d hoped, and I wish I didn’t already have commitments for the rest of the day, but I did make promises, and I must keep them.
I look back up at Dean, who’s gazing at me like I’m the best thing he’s ever seen in his life. “Much as I would love to do this all day,” I murmur with a rueful smile, “I have to go to lunch with my editor in twenty minutes, but it’s reading week, so I have a decent amount of free time over the next five days…” His eyes light up, and I suddenly envision having this man all to myself in my own home for hours on end.
What an irresistible idea.
“Come to mine tomorrow?” I offer. “We can…carry on where we left off, and…see what happens?” My grin becomes goofy. All of my usual finesse has just evaporated, and it’s all I can do not to snuggle into his arms and giggle like a schoolgirl.
He gapes at me, but he’s smiling as he nods his acceptance.
“Excellent. Well…glad we got that all sorted.” I open his front door and make to leave, albeit reluctantly, but I can’t resist one last kiss. His lips cling to mine, as though he’s trying to keep me here, and a happy glow spreads through me.Finally, we got here. “Text me later and we’ll sort out times and addresses.” He gives me a thumbs up, and I know he’s watching me go as I almost skip down the stairs and out the door into the bright, crisp morning, where everything from the buildings to the trees suddenly looks a million times better than it did yesterday.
From the Gastright/Mills boys ONLY WhatsApp Group (members: Leo Mills, Eli Gastright, Dean Gastright)
Dean Gastright: BAT SIGNAL
Eli Gastright: What do you need
Leo Mills: ?? What’s going on
Dean Gastright: Red Lion. 1pm. Urgent. I need some serious advice and I need y’all not to laugh at me. Just you two, please.
Eli Gastright:Sure
