Page 24 of Don't Take the Girl
"I’m not sure those are the exact words I used," I tease.
"Stop…" His hands wrap around my waist, sending a chill down my spine the way they always do. I crave his touch. It ignites a fire inside of me as much as it soothes me. I feel safe and happy with his hands on me, because his hands are home. "Dance with me."
"Did you really just ask me that?" I smirk and raise a brow.
A faint smile appears, and his cheeks tinge the slightest shade of pink. "I did. Why is that so hard to believe? It's prom."
"Yeah, but there's no music, and we're not at prom. You're stealing a line from some mushy rom-com you saw on TV. I don't want the guy that does what he thinks he is supposed to do. I might be missing prom, but there's nowhere else I'd rather be." I shrug and look toward the sky. "You're enough," I echo the exact words he once gave me in this very spot. He's quiet—a little too quiet—and I risk glancing at him. I'm nervous about looking him in the eye after saying those words but too curious not to know what I'll find. When I pull my gaze away from the stars, I find him smiling from ear to ear. "What?" I try hard to keep my face impassive but fail miserably because his handsome, dimpled smile is contagious.
He holds up his phone. "I have music." He lays it down on thetailgate and presses play, and the chorus to "Kiss Me" by Sixpence None the Richer starts crooning from the speaker. "And I'm not doing it because I think it's what I'm supposed to do. I'm doing it because I'm selfish."
"You're selfish?" I question skeptically.
"Yeah, I needed a reason to put my hands on you." He pulls me flush against his chest, my breath hitching from the swiftness and our new proximity as he slides one hand under my thigh. His lips are mere inches from mine, and all my thoughts begin to swirl before he adds, "And I would regret not making this memory with you. You in this dress"—his lips graze mine—"is the prettiest thing I've ever seen." He lifts me down and sets me gently on my heels. "So I'll ask again. Will you spare me a lifetime of regret and give me the honor of dancing with the most beautiful woman I've ever seen?"
I roll my lips, attempting to stifle the giddy smile that has my heart melting, but it's useless. "I'd never say no to you, and I'm pretty sure you know your hands don't need a reason to touch me."
I'm always the one pushing the boundaries with London, and he's always the one pumping the brakes. We only recently made it to third base—a base I've been dying to explore again—but I can tell it makes him uncomfortable. So, I've left it alone, settling for the touches he does give me. He wraps one arm around my waist, the other finding my hand and lacing our fingers together. "Can I ask you something?" I say as we begin to sway.
"Anything?" he answers without pause.
"Why this song? It came out before we were born."
"Classics never die, and I already told you…" He leans his forehead to mine, and my heart skips a beat as his eyes lock on mine. "I'm selfish. I want to kiss my girl beneath the stars while I spin her around a moonlit patch of grass, beside the same lake where she ran away with my heart."
"London—" I start with words I don't even have. Did he just say I ran away with his heart? Was that an admission?
"Don't," he murmurs against my mouth. "Kiss me, heartbreaker."
Chapter 8
Senior Year
LONDON
AGE NINETEEN
God, I wonder if she'll ever understand how much she means to me. Her body pressed against mine and our lips locked beneath a star-filled sky feels surreal. If you asked her, she'd say she's nothing special, but ask me, and I'd tell you, she hung the moon and all the stars in the sky, and nothing has ever scared me more. I told myself I'd never fall for a girl. The only woman in the world who was supposed to love me unconditionally couldn't. How could any other? I've never believed in things like marriage or the social constructs of titles, but damn it, if Laney Hart hasn't made me want to believe in the idea that perhaps those man-made constructs were formed not out of theory but lived experience and genuine, all-consuming, irrevocable love that can and does exist when you've found your person. At least, those are the things holding Laney in my arms makes me think.
The tips of her fingers lightly caress my jaw, as her bubblegum tongue slowly swipes against mine, and I force myself to stay present, not to slip away, not to make this more, but when her hand drops to my chest, and she presses me back, stealing her lipsaway from mine, I can't help but growl and pull her closer. I'm not ready to let her go, not when I just got her back. Not having her next door the way I have for the past eight years has felt like a punishment.
"The music stopped," she says with a smile, her lips pecking mine.
I smile against her mouth. "I hadn't noticed." I kiss her jaw. "I was a little preoccupied," I add, trailing kisses toward her ear. Her hand deliciously snakes up my neck, her fingers splaying through the hairs at the base of my neck, and my entire body shivers. Laney Hart has no idea how much power she has over me or how much it takes to restrain myself from taking everything. I nip the delicate skin on her neck before caressing it with my tongue and pulling away.
"Why did you stop?" she questions, her cheeks flushed and the skin on her chest sexily pebbled from my mouth.
"Walk with me." I take her hand and pull her toward the shore of the lake. If I keep kissing her there, I don't know that I'd have the strength to stop. I know what she wants. I want the same thing. I want everything with her, but I have managed to hold out this long, and I don't intend to break now. If we have forever, then there's time, because there's something I want more than intimacy.
"London," she stops in her tracks. "Is there something wrong with me?"
"What?" I turn back, eyes wide, not understanding the root of her question.
Palms up, she gestures down her body. "Is there something wrong with me? We've been together over a year now, I've known you since I was ten, and you refuse to…" Her eyes hold mine, and now I understand her question. She wants to know why I won't cross the line with her. I don't know what she sees, but I know, whatever it is, she reads it wrong, because she says, "Forget it," as she stomps by and sits on the shore where the grass meets the sand. Kicking her heels off, she digs her feet in.
I give her a second, letting her cool down while I try to find my words. I don't want to tell her no, but I also don't want to tell her how I truly feel. I don't want to coerce her to say the things I need to hear to take things further.
"I'm happy, Laney. You make me happy. I don't need your body. All we share is enough."
