Page 151 of The Lies We Play
She shivers.
A tiny, involuntary thing.
I stop moving.
She notices. Her eyes open, bright and dark at once, her dark hair spread across my pillow, her lips parted like she’s about to argue with me.
“What?” she whispers.
I shake my head once. I don’t trust myself with more than that.
The room feels too warm. Too close. The air has gone thin from everything I’m not saying. Outside the windows, the city keeps glowing like it has no idea something irreversible is happening here.
I pull the bra away from her body and let it fall somewhere I don’t care about.
Her breasts are full, her nipples already tight and dark, her skin flushed where my mouth has been. I roll one between my fingers, watching her face when I do it.
Her head tips back.
My name almost comes out of her mouth. I feel it before I hear it, the shape of it gathering in her breath, then breaking apart into a moan.
Something in me pulls hard.
Fuck.
I lower my mouth to her throat, right where her pulse beats fast beneath the skin, and I taste salt, heat, her sweet perfume losing its war against want. I bite my way up from collarbone to jaw, not enough to hurt, enough for her to remember. She grabs at my hair again, fingers sinking in, pulling as if she’s mad at me for making her need this.
Fuck.
I kiss the hinge of her jaw.
She arches into me.
I start to realize I have never, not once, been this far gone with someone. This unguarded. This fucking greedy.
It should scare me more than it does.
She keeps her arms around me.
Pulls me down.
I go because I'm not a better man than this.
For a second, we stay there. Foreheads pressed together. Breath caught between us, hot and uneven. Her fingers move against the back of my neck, not quite a caress, not quite a plea.
“I want to take your pants off,” I say.
Her laugh comes out low, a little rough, all throat and trouble. “Then do it.”
I look at her.
She swallows. Her eyes don’t leave mine.
“Do it slow.”
I nod once.
Then I do it so slowly, I think it might kill me.
