He swallows. “G-green.”
I draw a breath and bring my hands up higher, leaving just my pinkies curled around the waistband of his pants and my fingertips touching the base of his back.
“Yel-yellow.”
Nodding, I bring them back down so that it’s just two digits touching his skin.
“What about—” slowly, I trail across his hip with a knuckle, “—this?”
He whimpers out a soft ‘green’ and my whole body lights up.
Jesus fuck, I’m gonna combust.
His grip has migrated to my shoulders where he’s digging into me like he’s holding on for dear life.
I want him to leave bruises. So later, when I question my sanity, I’ll have proof that this moment wasreal. That he was actually here and not some fever dream.
We’re closer now, his breath feathering over my lips and the tip of his nose brushes mine.
So close and yet … sofar.
“What about …” I trail over his stomach, just above the waistband, and stop when I feel hair.
His lips part with a tiny gasp when I scrape gently at the coarse strands. They’re short. Thin. Maybe a step above peach fuzz.
And yet I wanna rub my face all over it. Move my hands higher to see if it’s the same on his chest.
Fuck.
I pull a long breath.
“Color.” It’s all rasp and wear.
His forehead slants over mine, his lips so close that I feel them like a ghost.
Instead of answering, Emmett clears the distance and kisses me.
My heart thumps wildly behind its cage, my pulse so heavy, I feel iteverywhere.
I’m almost dizzy when I reach up and cup his face, his lips parting against mine.
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.
The taste of him explodes on my tongue and he tilts his head.
The way we slide together, fighting and fitting, feels so much like fucking that my balls draw up.
It makes me brave. Maybe a little stupid. Definitely a lot loopy.
I bring the hand not cupping his face to the bunching in the center of his pants, hovering just above where he’s clearly hard beneath the fabric.
“Okay?”
His head falls to my shoulder, his panting breath tickling through my shirt, his fingers interlocking behind my neck.
He holds me tightly, like maybe he’s just as afraid of this being a dream as I am, and fuckingwhimpers.
My breath stutters when he leans back, the tension in my entire body synching up when he tips forward to feather his lips over mine again.
