Page 4 of Roses in Summer

“Hmm,” he muses, practically purring from across the room. “Answer my question. Has he ever given you a real kiss? One that makes breathing hard and your heart race?”

I shake my head, mimicking his movement from earlier. What I’ve experienced with Mitch has been incredibly one-sided and unsatisfying.

A deep rumble sounds from his chest, causing me to jump in surprise. “Do you want a kiss,mójmalyciern?”

More than anything. But I don’t say that. I just nod and watch his body unfurl from the chair.

His movements are graceful, but it’s his eyes I can’t look away from. Like two glowing gemstones, his green stare holds me captive until he’s standing next to the bed.

“What should I do with you, ciern?”

Whatever you want.

He laughs and I flush, realizing that I spoke that aloud. “Relax for me,” he orders, just before leaning down to capture my lips.

His lips are soft, a surprise since the rest of his face and body look chiseled from granite.

He leads me in a delicate dance as his mouth molds against mine, coaxing my lips until they pop open, allowing his tongue entrance. He licks into me, gently at first, like he’s giving me time to adapt to the feel of his tongue against mine, before increasing his pressure, stroking in and out of my mouth in the most sinfully hot kiss I’ve ever experienced.

I lean into him, tilting my head to give him greater access, and he doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of the movement. His hands move to grab the sides of my face, and his thumbs press against my cheeks as he positions my head exactly where he wants me. I can’t help the moan that works its way out of my mouth.

Breaking away from my lips, Lincoln nips at my jaw, trailing kisses over my skin, down my neck, until he sucks at my pulse point. “Fuck, you taste delicious,” he pants, licking at my throat.

“Th-thank you,” I stutter, shutting my eyes as his tongue works down the column of my neck. I’m not entirely sure if I’m supposed to be thanking him for licking my skin like it’s the most decadent ice cream he’s ever tasted, but he doesn’t seem phased.

“Good enough to fucking eat,” he sighs, giving my skin a final taste before dropping his hands and backing away. I follow him with my body, like a magnet being pulled, and catch myself before I tumble off the bed.

“God,” I mumble, my skin growing hot at the memory. Opening my eyes, I see a small analog clock on the wall, taunting me with the time. Thoughts of Lincoln disperse, though my phone burns in my pocket with the constant stream of texts we seem to be sending back and forth.

Shaking my head, I try to turn off the part of my brain that seems filled with Lincoln and focus on the situation I’m in—hiding in a janitor’s closet all because my ex-boyfriend called my name in the middle of a crowded hallway. “Ten minutes should be long enough.” Maybe I should be concerned that I’m speaking to inanimate objects, but it’s something I’ll have to worry about later. Turning around, I grasp the door handle and pull it toward me, giving me a small sliver of space to look out into the hall. I’m relieved to find it deserted. With confidence I don’t feel, I open the door the rest of the way and slip out of the closet, walking lightly toward the library where my independent study is held.

I don’t even make it three steps out of the false sanctuary before a whiny voice calls out to me. “Fin, there you are. Thank God.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I debate the merits of sliding back inside the closet and barricading myself in. But as soon as that thought crosses my mind, a hand reaches out and grabs my shoulder, spinning me around with unnecessary force. “Did you hear me, Fin? I was looking for you. Why are you avoiding me?”

Mitch’s eyes are wide, his hair uncombed, and his mannerisms frantic. Sighing with what feels like the rest of my patience, I take a step back, trying to force his hand to drop from my body, but pain pulls on my scalp as I do. Scowling, I reach up and pull on the strands of hair caught on the ostentatious gold bracelet Mitch always wears. “What do you want, Mitch?” I wince as one last firm tug tears hair from my head. I quickly step back, putting more distance between us.

“Seraphina, why are you talking to me like that? What’s going on?”

“Mitch, we broke up. What do you want?”

“No. No. No, we didn’t. You just wanted a break, but we’ll get back together, just like we always do. You don’t mean that.”

Looking toward the ceiling as though it’s siphoning the patience leaking out of me, I try again. “Yes, we broke up. What do you need? I need to go to independent study.”

“Seraphina.” Mitch’s voice breaks, the most powerful emotion I’ve ever heard from him ringing through his tone. “I need you, Fin. Don’t do this.”

“It’s already done, Mitch. We broke up a month and a half ago.” I shake my head, gritting my teeth against the surging anger. “We’ve had this conversation, or a variation of this conversation, every week for the last month. I don’t understand why we’re still doing this.”

“Fin, I-I can’t do this without you.”

My brow furrows from his words, anger replaced by confusion. “Do what?”

Mitch’s eyes shift from side to side, like he’s making sure no one else is in the hall to hear the conversation. He steps forward, lowering his voice as he speaks. “There’s so much shit going on in my family, Seraphina, and I— Fuck,” he mutters, cutting himself off. “Will you come by the house later and let me explain? I can’t do it here. Please, Fin. Don’t you owe me that?”

He almost had me, but as soon as he uttered that last statement, any sympathy I might have had evaporated. “I owe you nothing, Mitchell. Now, please, leave me alone.” Turning on my heel, I walk toward the library, clenching my hands as I walk.

2

---