Page 103 of Wished

He smiles. Lifts my chin and sets his mouth to mine.

His lips brush across mine, familiar yet new. His hands cup my jaw and he tilts my face so he can tease my mouth open. Then he slips inside, tasting me and drawing me to him. His hands curl in my hair and he makes a small, thankful noise. He tastes like chocolate and hazelnut, wine and passion. His mouth moves erotically over mine, sparking fires in me everywhere.

I press myself into him, trying to bury myself in him. I touch him everywhere, lifting his shirt so I can run my hands over the heat of his skin. Finally, he tears his mouth from mine.

He's breathing heavily, his chest heaving and his heart rocketing. I’m floaty, my blood throbbing with a needy heat, and all I want to do is wrap my legs around Max’s waist and keep kissing.

“That,” Max says, taking another taste of my lips, “was real.”

“Yes,” I say, gripping his shoulders.

He drops his forehead to mine, and I reach around him and hold him close. I can feel every breath, every heartbeat, every place we meet.

“I love you,” he says, looking into my eyes. “That feels more real than anything. I want to love you for the rest of my life. You said your love was exponential. I know how you feel. I want to experience every possible variation of love. I want to know what it is to love you in every possible way. When you’re happy, when you’re not, when you’re still young, when you’re old, when you’ve changed from who you are today and are someone new and the only thing I recognize is that I still love you. I want to be there for it all. In quiet love and passionate love and the kind of love that holds on even when everyone else would let go. I love you without reservation.” He kisses me again, pressing his love into me. “Do you feel it?”

“Yes,” I say, washing on the waves of his love.

I was wrong—there weren’t two choices in love, one side a calm turquoise expanse and the other a tumultuous sea. There are infinite choices in love. It’s a river of light, sparkling in millions of different variations, and we get to experience each and every one of them.

“I feel it,” I tell Max, reaching up and wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “I feel your love.”

He smiles—that happy, wicked smile I love. “We should make sure,” he says, “that you really feel it. That it’s really real. Just to be certain. We should go home and make sure.”

I laugh, feeling light and buoyant.

“I love you,” I tell him. “I love you so much.”

And then he kisses me again. The sliver of sunlight is gone, night is here, but I barely notice, because Max and I are making our own light.

Then he picks me up and carries me to his car, not taking his mouth from mine until he’s strapped me in and made sure I’m really, really, really real.

36

I lie curledin Max’s arms, flushed, sweaty, and blissful. His hand roams over my bare skin, featherlight and barely touching, leaving a glowy warmth. We’re sprawled on one of the thick, luxurious rugs in the library, my legs tangled with his, my arms around him.

We didn’t make it to the bedroom. We barely made it through the front door. We hit the wall, knocked over a marble statue, kissed our way toward the stairs kicking off shoes and stripping clothes, and then lost ourselves when a dark room with a soft rug presented itself.

The lights are off, the library dark. It’s cradled by the deep indigo of the sky and the silver glow of moonlight. There’s a soft, humming contentment flowing through the open room, vibrating over me.

Max presses a kiss to my neck, his mouth hot. His hands linger at the base of my spine and caress the curve of my hips. We’re wrapped in the quiet of the library, books and moonlight, and the awareness that this is where it all began. Even now, the necklace is nearby, hidden behind the oil painting, tucked in its golden case.

I press my cheek to Max’s chest, settling into the rise and fall of his breath and luxuriating in the quiet feel of his warmth pressed into mine. He’s lean, hard-planed, sharp-lined. It’s so easy for my curves and softness to fit against him.

I’m filled with so much contentment, so much love, that I can barely take it all in. I feel as if I might burst from the joy building inside me.

I lift myself off Max’s chest, shifting in his arms. The carpet scrapes against my knees as I move over him, lifting myself more so I can look into his eyes. The library is dark, but not so dark that I miss the smile curving on his lips.

“I know I already said this about a thousand times in the past hour, but I’ll say it again,” he says, his hands dragging over my hips, pulling me closer. “I love you.”

I kiss him, luxuriating in the slow, unhurried draw of his mouth over mine. The desperate, need-you-now, please-please-don’t-stop, oh-there-there, don’t-stop, love-you-love-you lovemaking is done, and now we’re settling into a soft, wondering, blissful exploration of each other.

I lift my mouth from his, the taste of him lingering on my lips. The library may be filled with the scent of old books and polished wood, but above that, there’s still the essential imprint of Max, and now Max and me together.

“I love you too,” I say, and the words still feel magical, still feel as if they’re a gift I’ve been given. I look over toward the desk where I first saw the sapphire necklace. “What do you think would’ve happened if I’d never made my wish?”

Max shakes his head and drags his hand through my hair, curling a long strand around his finger. “I imagine we would’ve arrived here eventually. It just would’ve taken longer.”

I nod. I think he’s right. “Where we are seems inevitable. Like a diamond formed millions of years ago. It was always there, hiding in the earth. We just had to uncover it.”

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