I grab hold of her body, gripping her tightly and never wanting to be off of her.
“I still didn’t taste you on my tongue.”
Her sweet voice sounds faded, as if that’s all the energy she has, and I rumble with a small laugh.
“A little more practice then?” I tease.
How about twenty-thousand more days? Will that be enough?
“Well, we have beds here,” she says in a playful tone. “Don’t we?”
I look up, meeting her eyes in the mirror to Carnival Tower.
No need to leave. That’s for sure.
Lucas
The candlelight flickers across her face and mussed hair as I hold her in my arms. I don’t know how much rest we got—the little moans she makes in her sleep stirring me as much as the ones she makes when she’s awake.
Her lips part, she searches my eyes, and I know she wants to say something. But then she kisses me. Her mouth leaves a trail so soft and hot, I feel the goosebumps break out down my arms.
The bedroom is cool and dark, no windows in the hideout except in the great room, making it impossible to feel like it’s anything but night. It feels like the world is still asleep. Or like we’re the only ones on the planet.
I brush her hair, tucking it behind her ear. “I love you,” I tell her.
Her naked chest presses against mine, and she trembles, her mouth opening and then closing. And for a moment, fear makes me pause.
When I was a kid, I used to carry her around as she clung to my leg. Now, she’s a woman. Am I good for her?
She breaks into a smile. “Finally.”
I chuckle.Yeah, whatever.So I’m a slow mover. In everything, I guess.
I close my eyes and tip my head back as she trails kisses across my neck, over my collarbone, and down my chest.
Her tongue darts out and teases my nipple, tugging it with her teeth.
Nerves fire, and I suck in air, laughing.
I pull her up, but as soon as I open my eyes, I spot black writing on her back. Just over her shoulder.
I tilt my head up. “What’s this?”
She tries to look over but her eyes don’t reach that far.
The writing is jagged and appears to be in marker. “Two-eight-eight-four,” I read.
“Huh?” She sits up and tries to look over her shoulder. “What is that? Where did it come from?”
Her worried eyes jerk to me, and I launch up and examine it again.
Black numbers, the little lines looking like quick swipes as if done in a hurry. The four and last eight are slightly smeared.
There’s nothing else. No other writing.
Her gaze wanders, the wheels in her head turning. “I thought…” She starts breathing harder. “I thought that was you,” she tells me. “I felt fingers on my skin in the middle of the night. Or I thought they were fingers. I thought you were caressing me or something.”
The sounds she was making… I thought she was asleep, but she was being touched.Fuck.
