Nathaniel and I shared glances as we worked on our artwork, my tongue in between my teeth as I outlined the shape of Nathaniel’s seated body. He was all lean angles, though I tried to capture the soft edges of his face beneath his dark hair.
I didn’t know how Nathaniel was doing, but when a string of curses escaped his throat and wet paint splashed onto his trousers, I assumed he wasn’t doing too well.
Biting back a smile, I gently lowered my paint brush and fixed my gaze on him as he tried to clean the paint, smearing it all up his thigh.
“Bloody yellow paint,” he hissed.
“Instead of fighting with the paint,” I mused, “how about we do something youactuallyenjoy.”
“No, no, I’m having fun,” he tried to assure me despite his clear frustration.
“Nathaniel.”
“I swear I am! I’m just having some issues with cleaning myself up.”
Barely suppressing a chuckle, I crawled towards him and peeled off my jacket, sacrificing the material to try and savour some of his. This close, I could smell the rich scent of his floral cologne and vanilla shampoo. I could also make out his attempted artwork—it was human, though it didn’t look like me.
“Your jacket…” Nathaniel frowned.
“A small sacrifice for your dignity,” I teased.
“It’ll stain…”
“Definitely.”
“I’m sorry.”
I gave him a look. “You’re sorry that Ichoseto help clean you with my jacket?”
He nodded, bottom lip jutted out like a child. I nudged him playfully, with perhaps a little more force than necessary, sending him lying back on the rug, head landing on the grass. In an attempt to prevent the fall, his arm snaked around my waist, dragging me down with him. I barely had time to cushion my fall, hands braced on either side of his head.
Grass tangled in between black strands of hair, white teeth glistening as his lips spread into a dimpled smile, he looked at me as though I was exactly where he wanted me to be.
Heat simmered in the pit of my stomach, rising to inflame my cheeks as I struggled tobreatheat the sight of Nathaniel underneath me.
This is wrong,the Devil said in a singsong tone.
If the Devil thought it wrong, then it must have beenright.
Nathaniel’s gaze danced between my eyes and my lips, my heart skipping a beat at the realisation that he wanted tokissme. DidIwant him to kiss me? Did I want to kisshim?These questions soared through my brain, one after the other, and before I had the chance to process a single one, his hand was cupping my neck, the tips of his fingers tangled in my brown curls.
“Augustus,” he whispered my name like he was down on his knees, worshipping me like one would a God. “I really want to kiss you.”
I swallowed, my heart pounding so loud that it thundered in my ears. My tongue moved to wet my lip, an involuntary expression of my desire. I had neverwantedto kiss anyone before. And yet here I was, mouth-watering at the mere thought of Nathaniel’s lips against mine.
“I think I want you to kiss me too,” I whispered.
Nathaniel smiled, hand tightening in my hair as he brought me closer to the curve of his perfect mouth. My eyelids fluttered shut the moment our lips connected. It was a gentle press of lips, both asking the other for permission. His lips were soft, inviting, and warm. I had no desire to pull away, not even as Nathaniel’s other hand slid up to my chest. Could he feel my wildly beating heart?
Unable to hold myself atop him without crushing his body, I rolled to the side, Nathaniel following me, his tongue sliding along my bottom lip as my lips parted to grant him entry. It felt good. Intoxicating.
A quiet, whisper of a moan escaped Nathaniel’s throat, and he deepened the kiss. His hands grew more adventurous, sliding underneath my shirt, his hands burning my cool skin.
It was then I pulled away, panting as I fought to catch my breath and create as much distance between us as possible.
Nathaniel sat up, his lips red and swollen, eyes dark beneath his long, slow blinking lashes. He adjusted his trousers discreetly, his gaze apologetic as it settled on my trembling hands.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed out, “I…didn’t mean to…make you uncomfortable.”
