Page 53 of Forged By Sacrifice

“I feel like your knowledge of American films is woefully lacking,” I said as I grabbed the remote from her and did a search for the movie. When I found it, I hit play.

“Don’t you have to go to sleep? You have work in the morning,” she said.

“I haven’t been sleeping anyway. Maybe I’ll be exhausted after this.”

She didn’t move from her spot, and as the movie progressed, she relaxed into the couch. Her legs that were tucked underneath her were touching my hips. I wasn’t sure she was aware of it, but I was very highly aware of it. Bare legs that I wanted to run my hands on. I wanted to run my hands up them until they disappeared under the sundress she had on until I found her underwear that I could pull aside with the flick of a finger. She was watching the movie with fascinated eyes and smiles; I was watching her. I had to do something to put distance between us. Otherwise, I was definitely going to end up kissing her. Not just kissing her, but pulling her to me and devouring her. I hit pause.

“Why’d you stop it?” she asked, turning to me, her smile fading as she realized how close we still were on the couch. Her eyes flicked down to my lips and back up to my eyes as they had the night before.

I barely held back my groan and pushed myself up. “We need libations.”

I went into the kitchen and took out the blender, a container of vanilla ice cream, and frozen fruit from the freezer. I’d made her curious enough that she followed along with me.

“Because all that sugar seems like a good idea when you can’t sleep,” she laughed.

I smiled at her. “Just wait.”

I hit the mixer button then took the lid off, tasting it with a spoon, as if I had to check it. I never had to check it. Making milkshakes was second nature to me, but I was playing a ridiculous game that would probably cost me more than her. And yet, I couldn’t help myself. “Here, taste it and tell me what you think it’s missing.”

I offered her a scoop on the spoon. She had to come close enough for me to put it in her mouth. It was torturing me, but I was hoping it was torturing her also. When I removed the spoon, she ran her tongue over her lips, and all I could think was how badly I wanted to taste her. Lips. Tongue. All of it. The sweet scent of vanilla and berries that was an addition to her normal cherry-blossom smell.

“I don’t think it’s missing anything,” she said quietly, unable to meet my gaze.

“It is.” I reached over her into the cabinet, my chest rubbing along hers for just a brief second, building the tension between us instead of removing it like I’d intended to do by leaving the couch. She didn’t back away from me. I brought out a bottle of marshmallow vodka and waved it in front of her before going back to the mixer and adding it to the milkshake.

“A little nightcap for our sugar fest. Should counter the effects nicely.”

She laughed. “You really do have a sugar tooth.”

I just nodded. I did. I’d rather eat a brownie for breakfast than leftover pizza, but not many people knew that about me. I poured in a hefty dose of the flavored vodka, hit mix again, and then scooped more out with the spoon. I went to offer her a taste but didn’t know she’d moved to watch me, the sound having been dulled by the noise of the mixer, so when I turned, the milkshake went flying off, hitting her in the face and hair.

We both stared for a stunned moment, and then I burst out laughing.

“Oh my God, you didn’t just do that,” she said, and I couldn’t tell if there was anger or laughter or both in her voice.

She wiped at her face and then, before I’d even expected it, ran both her hands down the sides of mine, dragging across my five o’clock shadow, eyes full of humor. I was shocked into stillness that she’d retaliated so quickly. That her hands were on my face. That she was so close our bodies were bumping and speaking to each other again.

I grabbed her hands, turning my face so that I could lick one. The berries and vodka were all sticky sweet, and yet, they still didn’t cover the taste of her skin. She didn’t fight me. She didn’t pull away.

“I think I’d like to kiss you again,” I told her, the desire that was burning inside me echoing in my voice. I felt her pulse increase beneath my fingertips, rising to a crescendo, just like my own.

“It isn’t any better of an idea now than it was then,” she said, but her breathing was coming in gentle puffs. “Actually…it would probably be worse.”

“That kiss was the best damn kiss either of us have ever had,” I argued.

“We were just taken in by the sea, and the day, and the turtles.”

I couldn’t help a slow smile. “The turtles?”

She pulled away, flicking on the faucet. “They were pretty amazing.”

I could only see the side of her face now, but I could see her lips quirking. The tease mixed in with her truth.

“You think our kiss was perfect because of the sea turtles?” I asked, knowing she was just trying to remove the sexual tension that was building between us. Knowing she didn’t believe it any more than I did.

“I never said it was perfect. That was all you. But I do believe we were just caught up in…the whole adventure,” she said, drying her hands and then placing the counter between us.

“That wasn’t why it was perfect,” I pushed. It wasn’t. It was perfect because she’d fit into me like no woman that I’d ever kissed. Except she didn’t fit…did she? Could I just date her like Dani had suggested? Could I date her and have her in my arms only to let her go?

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