Page 89 of Stealing Sunshine

My eyelids fall, hiding her expression as we hover, tasting each other’s breath but not moving for anything more. I’m not touching her, and I want to be. The rules that are supposed to be keeping us in line are non-existent in this moment. They might as well have not existed in the first place.

I’d have broken them anyway.

“Not really.”

Bryce strokes my cheekbone with her thumb, and then our lips are meeting. It’s just a soft, curious press of mouths, but it unlocks something inside of me.

She pulls back after the smallest of moments, and I push forward on my knees, digging them into her thigh before kissing her again. It’s less curious and more confident, starting gentlebut growing firmer as I realize that the sensation I’m feeling is interest.

A genuine romantic interest in Bryce that spreads far beyond the physical desire that’s grown hopeless to ignore. It was so obvious, yet I’d ignored it. Three weeks and I’ve already lost any hope of keeping my heart out of this.

The sudden, steady grip on my waist pulls me out of my thoughts. I bump my nose against hers when I lean further into the kiss and throw my leg over her lap, keeping myself up on my knees.

“Just more practice,” I whisper.

She pulls at my waist, and I jerk forward before collapsing onto her strong thighs, my knees giving out.

“Practice.” The agreement is nothing more than a rasp.

Finally, I find something to do with my hands and place one around her bicep while the other returns to her hair, my nails scraping against her scalp.

Lips part against mine, and Bryce huffs a breath into my mouth. Her fingers tense on my jaw, and then they’re cautiously drifting. Down my neck, over my rapid pulse, and to the hollow of my throat, she touches me with pressure so gentle it’s nothing more than a ghost of the one she’s applying to my waist.

I tremble under her touch, every inch of my body burning hotter and hotter the longer we kiss and she keeps her hands on me. The constant pressure of my nipples against the pads of my bra is nothing compared to the one between my legs. It takes everything in me not to adjust my position and ride her thigh so I can feel some reprieve.

She appears more in control than I am. Every innocent brush of her fingers over my skin is a piece of kindling thrown onto the flaming need in my every molecule, and I don’t think she has any clue the extent of my desire.

The feeling of her nail drawing a line up the back of my ear is enough to yank a whimper from me. My hips roll, and I drag my lips down her chin and duck my head, shaking like a leaf.

“We’ve practiced enough. They’ll know we’ve done it before,” she says so softly I almost don’t hear her.

I squeeze my eyes shut and freeze, almost wishing that I hadn’t heard at all.

A myriad of emotions hits me as I slowly push back to my knees and swing off her. It’s stupid to feel rejected. I was the one who said this was all for practice. She’s just following the rules when I’m incapable of doing so.

That doesn’t stop me from aching in a completely different way than I was a moment ago as I sit on the opposite side of the bed, keeping a healthy bit of space between us.

“I’m going to get you some more meds. Do you need anything else?” I ask, putting on a brave face.

“I’m okay.”

Well, that makes one of us.

I swallow any and every potential reply and leave the room. It’s a while before I come back. Not until I’m sure that Bryce is nearly asleep again, too tired to bring up what just happened and to realize that I’ve curled up on the armchair instead of the bed.

Where I stay for the rest of the night.

I thought the dark would have been helpful, but we may as well have been directly beneath the sun.

27

BRYCE

Anna and Roryhog the majority of my bed and giggle over whatever they’re looking at on the phone held between them. From the Brody Steele tour case on it, there’s no chance it belongs to anyone besides Anna.

I touch the twin thin braids Anna insisted on doing under the pretense of helping keep my hair out of my face and watch the two of them in the mirror above my dresser. My best friend has been trying to get her hands on my hair for months now. I’m so out of it today that I finally gave in.

It’s still undecided if that was a good or bad call.

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