Page 12 of Shadows in Bloom

But are her drunken words sober thoughts?

“Always want you,” she says, eyes wide once more as she leans closer, muddling my train of thought. “Just so scared,” she whispers, a hair’s breadth away. My fingers clamp down on her nape, stilling her descent and eliciting a gasp. Her eyes flutter closed, blonde lashes skimming the soft, bruised hollows beneath. Her lips are parted in invitation.

And I fucking stare at her. At Jamie. Here, on my lap. Begging. Waiting… for me.

The woman who started as an innocent little flirt at work years ago. A fun time. One I began looking forward to with every shift, disappointed when it was one she didn’t show for. Short bursts of innocuous conversations that eventually bled into revelations and admissions before she’d scurry off, forever the perfect example of blatant awkwardness—but never with anyone else. Only me.

And then, she was just… gone. I was alone. And then, he happened, and my whole fucking world flipped on its axis.

As some twist of providence would have it, we both moved to the same place once again. A circumstance of alignment—and I can’t deny the overwhelming evidence that maybe Jamie and I were meant to cross paths again, with these slightly older but more experienced—more anguished—versions of ourselves.

Though, it seems Jamie still hasn’t been able to truly find herself the way one should be able to.

My fingers fist, drawing her head back to expose more of her throat. I skim my nose along the curve of her jaw, relishing in the rapid thump of her pulse beneath her skin.

Is it wrong of me to be delighted to be her first? To show her just how good I can make her fucking feel?

“Fiona.” She utters my name on a raspy moan, and I’m fucking done for.

“Tell me you know what you’re doing.” I spit the words through gritted teeth against her cheek. Her scalp probably stings from the force of my grip, but I don’t care. I need to know I’m not taking advantage—not entirely, anyway. That she’s cognizant.

“I do, I do. Fiona, please.” She whispers the plea.

I swallow, squeezing my eyes shut as I rip my face away from hers before opening them to search her hazel irises. They look clearer, if only slightly, now tinged with the haze of want and lust.

Or maybe I’m just seeing what I want.

And I’m going to fucking burn for it.

“Goddamnit,” I growl as I yank Jamie closer by her hair and slam my mouth to hers. She gasps as our teeth clack, my lips hard as I mold them over hers. They have their own pulse-point from the force of contact—and it’s that radiation that spurs me on.

With her hair in my fist, I pull her head back as I drag my mouth over her chin and down her throat, scraping my teeth across her skin until her pale flesh blooms red. Her chest is heaving, pushing her breasts against me with every inhale. I reach up, cupping one and running my thumb over her nipple, relishing in her gasp, in the way it begins to harden under my prolonged touch.

I raise my index finger to pinch the bud hard enough to elicit heat before sliding my palm up over her sternum and the column of her throat. “Look at me, Jamie,” I say as I press my thumb beneath her chin.

Her eyelids flutter open, and when our gazes meet, the blush on her cheeks darken. I smirk as I drag my fingers back and forth over her jaw, down her neck, and back up again, just to feel her heartbeat, her breath.

So vibrantly alive.

“You’re beautiful.”

She winces and glances away, her throat bobbing with a swallow. I frown, dropping my hand from her hair to rub my palm up and down her spine—a touch she immediately melts into.

“What’s wrong?” She shakes her head, lips pinched. My eyes narrow slightly—and then, it hits me. “Don’t like compliments, do you, little one?”

“Little one?” she parrots, eyes opening wide, that blush a lasting mark.

I quirk a brow, watching the display of emotions dance across her face, so exposed and vulnerable. Flashing between what appears to be confusion and disagreement, elation, and something like hope.

I wrinkle my nose as I lean in to nudge it against hers. “It suits you.” Then, I brush my lips against hers, slower this time. They’re soft, even with the small split in the middle—which I trace with the tip of my tongue. The faintest tang of copper lingers on my tastebuds as I grab her chin to force her mouth open.

My tongue delves inside, a soft, slow stroke against the inside of her mouth, over her own tongue, which dances eagerly to get a taste of mine. My stomach flips as the kiss deepens, and I swear, I can’t get deep enough inside her.

Jamie’s hands claw at my shoulders, blunt nails digging in as she drags me closer. Saliva smears between us, hot and sticky and perfect.

With one arm wrapped around her waist, I twist, pushing her back on the couch. She gasps, which then spills into a giggle as my fingers tighten. I pull back slightly, eyes dancing as I do it again. She squirms below me, hips wriggling as I tickle her.

“S-stop! Oh!” She squeals when I dig in harder, and the sound of her laughter melts my insides. My face hurts from smiling so hard, my chest alight with something akin to elation.

---