We were both breathing hard, our chests trembling, our bodies burning up.
But I didn’t want…didn’t want…
“Are you okay?” he asked, staring into my eyes. I could feel his erection between my legs, and it was neither surprising nor arousing.
No visceral desire bloomed inside me, no urge to be dominated, and no need to give him pleasure.
I stared at him in a daze.
I’d unintentionally messed up his hair, and his lips were wet from our kisses.
No, I was not okay. That was obvious from my vulnerable, irrational behavior.
The real Selene would not have acted on impulse like this.
And it was for that very reason that I did something I would come to regret, my biggest screw-up: I kissed him again.
His tongue tangled ardently with mine.
One hand moved from my waist to my ribs before fondling one breast and beginning to unbutton my shirt.
I kept my eyes closed. I let him do it, but I didn’t look.
I didn’twantto look.
I imagined that his fresh taste turned bitter and smoky, that his cologne was replaced with the odor of musk, and that his lean, athletic body was instead a powerful, virile one, heavy and sharp-edged.
I imagined him pressing down on me unsparingly like an overbearing god.
Just as Tinkerbell would have done, I spread my wings and flew far away.
But, then again, Peter Pan had taught me that only those with happy thoughts have the ability to fly.
I felt my body tense up with the pulsating need to have Neil inside me.
My stiffened nipples pressed against my bra, seeking his lush lips.
My cheeks were wet again. Another tear slid down my face and vanished into the sheets.
“You smell like coconut…” Ivan licked my neck and groped one breast that had been exposed by my now completely unbuttoned shirt.
And I recalled that day after our first night together. Neil sat on the couch with me, kissed me, and breathed in the scent of my skin.
“My bed smelled like coconut this morning,”he had told me. We both longed to relive that moment, starving for each other.
We were right there.
Just me and him.
A bowl of popcorn.
And that mess of ours, which was starting to take shape in my head.
And in my heart.
I smiled at the thought, lost in the past, lost in that insane film of us, which could be called anything but a love story. Then I stroked along Ivan’s hoodie. I slid my hands underneath the fabric and felt his smooth, soft skin; the muscles there were tensed and defined. I moved around to the front, glancing along his tight abs and finally reaching his hard pecs. With my eyes still closed, the only thing I felt was his mouth coaxing mine to kiss him again and again until I was consumed. Until I consumed myself…
22
