Page 40 of Still Falling for You

His kiss is not gentle, far from the subdued peck I gave him on Sunday. This is something else because he’s a hundred per cent in this kiss. My hands automatically shoot out to grab him by his shoulders to hold him as close as physically possible. When he notices my reaction, he deepens the kiss, tracing the seam of my lips with his tongue until I open up to him fully. His tongue meets mine in an electric storm. A moan escapes my lips as soon as it happens, and he digs his fingers into my sides. My heart is a galloping horse, an industrial sewing machine thrumming out sixteen hundred stitches per minute, a steam turbine propelling a submarine, not a mere organ pumping blood around my body.

Footsteps approaching on the other side of the door make us jump away like a pair of teenagers. Thinking on my feet, I drag Alex behind the curtained window that, to my surprise, shelters an old full-length mirror. I place a finger on my lips as I tuck myself into the farthest corner of the window. It’s so cramped Alex ends up pressed against me, his hip digging into my stomach and my boob squeezing against his shoulder. It reminds me of the sardines game, except that this isn’t an old mansion, and if we get discovered, there are much worseconsequences than becomingitin the next round or doing a dare.

‘Holly. Are you here?’ John loud whispers.

I don’t dare to move and anxiously watch Alex in the semi-darkness. Face tilted away, his stormy eyes are looking towards where invisible John is, solely focused on the noises on the opposite side of the curtain. He smells faintly of gin and his customary woody smell. Without meaning to, I lean in and inhale. He swings his head sharply in my direction.

After a few more attempts at calling me, John gives up and his receding steps plunge us back into silence. However, it’s like we’re on a halt, like the kiss has never happened. Neither of us wants to make the next move because it would mean something. For now, we’re even. A kiss for a kiss.

I need to find my footing. ‘What is it that you wanted to get straight?’ My lips are swollen, but I push the words through them anyway.

He steps away, his back brushing against the heavy curtain. His eyes narrow at something over my shoulder. I turn my head and catch our reflection in the mirror. My dress has ridden up and exposed the back of my thighs; the lacy tops of my stockings now peek from under the skirt.

I watch him watch me in the mirror. His cheeks are flushed, and his lips are pursed in what I used to think was disapproval, but now I’m not sure. He reaches behind me and grips my thigh where the lace meets my skin. The sight of his hand on me in the mirror is arousing and immediately heat pools between my legs.

‘Your lacy collars and shiny buttons…’ He breaks off, and I don’t comprehend why, out of all moments, he chooses to discuss my fashion sense. He forces me back until I’m against the ledge of the window as he growls, ‘They drive me insane. I can’t seem to…’

Energy crackles between us until the air is so charged Iexpect the fire alarm to go off. He braces himself on either side of me against the ledge, trapping me in the cage of his arms. I hang on his lips, unable to move until he finishes the sentence.

His words split the moment in two. ‘I can’t seem to think whenever you’re around. All I can think about is how I want to watch you come undone with my mouth and my hands. What have you done to me?’

Air rushes out of me and then our bodies crash against each other like tidal waves. His hands anchor on my buttocks without hesitation. Unable to last any longer, I meet his mouth. He’s ready for me and immediately opens up, his tongue exploring and tasting mine while his hand is kneading my backside in the most exquisite way that makes me groan.

I slide my hand to his neck where the hair touches his nape. I used to pull at the hair there when we were teenagers, and it used to drive him crazy. As if he remembers, he moans into my mouth, and I can’t help but rub against his body. I can feel how much he wants me, his hardness pressing insistently against my belly.

He grabs the back of my thighs and hoists me up onto the ledge, making me yelp in surprise. My legs automatically wrap around his waist to steady myself and to be even closer to him. I reach between our bodies and move my hand down his belly, but he doesn’t let me touch him, and I growl in frustration. Instead, he propels us around and deposits me in front of the mirror, positioning himself behind me. He slides his hand down my belly and towards the edge of my dress, ending up under my skirt and deliciously circling my core through my underwear. The entire time his eyes are on me in the mirror. I grab onto the mirror with one hand and the windowsill with the other as he slips his fingers under the seam of my underwear and obliterates any remaining doubt.

His hand is warm, his fingers torturing before they finally sink inside me and my mind scrambles. He’s never touchedme like this, but it feels like he was made to touch me. People always say that if you have wanted something for a long time, the actual thing is pale against your previous imagining, but this isn’t the case. It shatters my expectations.

He sinks another finger inside me, making me gasp at the fullness, and yet, feeling like it’s not enough. I start moving against his hand. My head lolls back against his shoulder as I try to stop myself from falling apart because the idea of Alex watching me come makes me vulnerable. Once again, I try to reach the space between us, but he presses harder against me, preventing me from touching him the way I want to. The way I need to.

He must sense my thoughts because his voice rumbles in my ear, ‘It’s my turn to touch you. I want to watch you.’ He moves his hand faster, and all I can do is stare at him pleasuring me in the mirror, memorising every second of his hand between my legs while his green eyes threaten to devour me. He presses his other hand against my belly, holding me in place as I give myself to him.

The feeling builds up in my stomach, and I start trembling in his arms. I must whisper his name because his body stiffens.

He sinks his lips into my hair and his hot breath hits the shell of my ear. ‘Say my name again.’

I shake my head, fighting against the need.

‘Say it,’ he urges as he continues torturing me, systematically undoing me. ‘I need to hear it. I need this. This is the only way I will get you out of my system.’

Before his words register fully, I fall apart so hard my eyes close. He strokes me through the last moments.

When I plummet down from my high, I replay his words in my head and my body is plunged into icy water. Immediately, I step out of his arms. Disgust with myself and my stupidity hit me so hard it’s like an uppercut punch to my gut. I can’t stand the sight of myself in the mirror. Shiny eyes, red cheeks, tousledhair. I look like a mess.

Is this what this is for him? Am I to be used as a tool to get him over wanting me? An outstanding list from the sixth form to massage his ego? Sleep with Holly. Tick.

He takes a step towards me to help me pull my dress down, but I shrink back. I feel cheap and dirty. The logical part of me knows that I wanted this and he did nothing wrong because from the start he said he wanted my body, especially after I kissed him first. But the illogical part is screaming at him because, even after ten years, he’s the only person in the world I can’t bear to hear those words from.

Something akin to hurt passes across his face, but I’m sure I’m reading him wrong. I’m almost glad my phone rings even though it’s my mother. I dismiss him by pushing the curtain out of my way and walking to the opposite side of the room without looking back. I know if I do, I’ll cry, and I don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

‘Yes, Mother?’ I inject some cheer into my voice when I pick up, even though on the inside I’m an empty eggshell about to crack. The door behind me opens and closes.

Only when Alex has gone do I let my tears fall.

Why do all the men in my life hurt me?

18

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