Alright, notentirelygood. But maybe good enough.
Francesca squints at me. I’m in my head, and she knows it, but all she does in response is whisper, “I still want that kiss, though.”
The damn cottage is in sight, but still, I entertain her with a response. “You’ll have to earn it.”
She perks up at that. “Earn it?”
“Spell my name. If you can do that, I’ll consider it.”
“Easy. N-U-M-E-R-I-C.”
I stare down at her, lips twitching. “Numeric?” I repeat, calm on the outside whilst my ribcage rattles. “That’s not my name.”
“Yes, it is. Num-eric.” Slower this time, as though I didn’t catch it. “Because you’re my math boy, obviously.”
I feel the hit of that possessive determiner low enough to think she might’ve kneed me in the fucking crotch. “Francesca…”
“C’mon,addto the equation. Turntwointothree.”
Her dark brows are wiggling suggestively, and I’m torn between laughing and pinching myself because there’s no way this girl is real. I’m already leaning in, against my betterjudgement. She’s still laughing when I cup her face, slipping in a quiet victory cheer before our lips meet. I steal the breath from her lungs, then walk her back. One step, then another. When her spine finally hits the tree, she gasps, allowing my tongue an easy entrance.
Still amused by herself, she whispers it quietly again.Numeric. Three syllables, and she hands my entire identity back to me. She called me numbers and logic, found my name in that word, and I’ve never felt more seen than by this tipsy phantom currently sliding her hands into my hair. My forearm presses to the bark beside her head, knee sliding between her legs because I need her closer, but I’m hitting fucking resistance. Layers upon layers of velvet.
“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter against her mouth, trying to hike her leg up. “Swear the world built you to be untouchable.”
“Maybe I am—ah.” Her voice breaks when I drag my lips along her jawline, finding the soft spot beneath her ear. I mouth there repeatedly, and she melts on my name. It’s the prettiest sound, half moan and half laugh. There are other words mixed in between, but they amount to nothing because I lift to steal them once more.
Her grip on my hair has turned to desperation, and I pull back just enough to say, “I know.”
Because Idoknow.
Tonight could’ve ended so differently. She could’ve been gasping for breath, throat swelling, but instead she’s here, still breathing. Kind of breathing, because I can’t stop dragging her into me as though she owes me air. I start to move down again, aching to leave proof of this moment, but she stops me just as I reach the slope of her throat.
“Careful,” she laughs. “Any lower and you’ll get a mouthful of Charlotte Tilbury.”
I halt, recalling the bruises.Think of something else.Something that isn’t the smell of lavender or the way your name sounds on her lips.I try to chase desire away with thoughts of Pablo—Henrik’s dumb cat—and how his mouth constantly smells like dead fish. A useless apology forms on the tip of my tongue because I almost pressed my want for her into someone else’s damage. But she sees it, doesn’t give the regret a chance to breathe.
She tucks a few strands of blonde behind my ear, offering a quiet, “It’s okay.”
Eyes glossy from the wine, dress crooked from the way I’ve tugged, and I can’t help but think she’s so damn beautiful. Next, she grabs my tie and tugs. The knot gives in without resistance, much like my rationality. She drops it to the ground, fingers already working at the top two buttons of my shirt.
Air hits my throat, accompanied by a breathy, “Let’s trade positions,” before she puts her mouth to my skin.
I tilt for her, savouring the open-mouthed kisses, the wet slide of her tongue as she suckles her mark into me. I’m fisting her skirts like a frightened schoolboy because she’s claiming the spot right where my pulse is the loudest. I try to stop it, muffle it into my forearm, but a needy sound rips right out of me.
“Was that a whimper, Your Highness?” She smiles against my neck.
“It wasn’t.”
“Sounded like a whimper to me.” She’s laughing, pleased, andgreedy—I’m fucking losing it.
One second later, and I feel her teeth sink in, flesh being taken hostage by her mouth. It settles into a throb, a deep sting that she then licks over. A fucking hickey.
“Did you just leave a mark?”
“Uh-huh.” She bites her glossy lip like she’s proud of herself, and my own pride won’t let her gloat.
I frame her jaw, tilting her face to mine. “Open for me.”
