Page 53 of Unlikely

She slides my dress sleeves off my body completely, the shirred material now only covering my breasts. Her hands slide up my thighs, and when she splays them across my inner thighs, her thumbs skimming both sides of my underwear, my body falls back, leaning on my elbows, and my head tilts to the ceiling, eyes fluttering closed. I’m done for.

Clit aching.

Tits heavy.

Body desperate.

I’m nothing more than putty in her hands, and I know she loves me this way.

“Now, Clementine, sweetheart,” she says, the words more tease than endearment. “What was the exact moment?”

18

CLEM

THAT NIGHT: EIGHT MONTHS AGO

The hotel room door falls shut with a thud and Zara pushes me up against it, melding her mouth to mine, our tongues dancing together beautifully.

“Wait,” I manage to breathe out. “I’ve never done this before.”

Anxious energy courses through my veins as the revelation leaves my lips. Worry and anguish settling in the pit of my stomach.Will she still want me? Will she tell me to leave?

“Done what?” she asks in between kisses.

“I’ve never been with a woman.”

She stops, and I miss her mouth on me almost immediately. She steps back, giving me unwanted space, her eyes taking me in. I expect anger or disgust or confusion, but she’s still looking at me with the same amount of respect and desire that was in her eyes only mere minutes ago.

My shoulders deflate in relief, because this woman has encouraged me to call the shots from the very minute I laid eyes on her, but her silence unnerves me.

“Say something,” I whisper into the dimly lit room.

“Right now.” Her voice is gentle but firm as she runs her thumb over my bottom lip, her eyes darting between my eyes and my mouth. “What do you want?”

Years in the foster system have taught me how to be a chameleon, how to change my skin to fit in seamlessly and to not stand out from the crowd. Survival skills. Years of being whoever and whatever the world needs me to be, at the expense of my own needs and wants, every time. I can’t remember a moment where someone ever asked me what it was I wanted, and now they have, I feel both fear and exhilaration at answering.

I open my mouth, but the words sit there, at the tip of my tongue, like being on the edge of a diving board and refusing to jump off.

She softly tucks my unruly hair behind my ear, waiting patiently. “If you don’t want to do this, just say the?—”

“I want you,” I blurt out, a little too loud for the quiet room.

“Have me,” she says with certainty. “Whichever way you want. You call the shots, sweetheart.”

Inspired by her self-assurance, I keep my gaze locked on hers and wrap my arms around her neck. “Kiss me.”

Her mouth is on mine in an instant, pushing me against the heavy hotel door. She presses her body to mine, and I don’t miss the way we fit perfectly together. She curls her hand around my neck, her thumb skimming my cheek as the kiss deepens.

If the softness of her lips against mine is supposed to feel foreign, it feels anything but. Her taste is sweet, the faint hint of alcohol on her tongue, and I’m completely drunk on her.

My body hums with anticipation, wanting more but not knowing exactly whatmoreis. Fueled by nothing more than instinct, I push against her shoulders, making my intention known. Together, her mouth still sealed to mine, we walk backward, farther into the hotel room, until the back of her legs hit the edge of the mattress.

I falter for a quick moment, my eyes darting between the bed and Zara, but it’s not quick enough for her not to notice.

She brushes her fingers against my cheek. “What is it?”

The concern in her voice wraps around me like a warm blanket, making me feel safe and protected enough to be vulnerable and honest. “I know the reason you’re giving me total control and I appreciate it way more than you know.” Swallowing back my anxiety, I meet her gaze. “But I don’t want it.”

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