Page 17 of Run to Me
“I . . . I didn’t really get to see what kissing you was like earlier,” he whispers. “I mean, we were kind of rushed, and it was very short. I’d like to take my time. Only if you’re okay with it, that is.”
My heart thuds and I nod, stroking his cheek. “It’s not about me being okay, it’s . . . Isn’t it wrong?”
“Did it feel wrong? It’s not like we’re blood related, and no one will even know but us. It’s just a little kissing. Friends do it all the time”
Friends. Man what a total punch in the gut that is. “Nothing ever feels wrong with you,” I breathe out. Maybe this isn’t something I should do, but I really want to, and nothing’s evercalled to me more. This isn’t hurting anyone and we both want it. And like he said—and I’ve told myself many times—we aren’t blood related. So why should it be such a big deal?
His eyes brighten and he leans in further, swiping his tongue over his lips. “You can say no if you really don’t want to.”
I run a hand through his hair, smashing my mouth to his. Lips as soft as yesterday, they leave behind a tingling sensation on mine. Our tongues collide and I pull him closer, thrusting faster into his mouth, mimicking what I’ve seen in movies. But I don’t even really need to. It’s like our bodies know what to do on their own, our breaths becoming one as our teeth clash from the growing desperation.
Light spreads from him to me and I feel like I’m being wrapped in sunshine. Warmth fills my heart, and when we finally break apart, I desperately want to go back for more. He could have had this with anyone, but he chose me, and the thought of him sharing it with anyone else leaves a sick feeling in my gut.
“So . . . what do you think? Get a better idea now?”
His nose twitches and he shies away from me, cheeks tinting a pretty pink. “Kinda. Maybe need just a little longer. You know, so I can get a really good feel for it. A little practice never hurt either.” His lips attack mine again, our kisses more ravenous, and it isn’t until the hardness in his shorts is rubbing over mine that I realize he’s straddling my lap, his legs wrapped tightly around my waist like I’m a lifeline.
Melting against him, I explore more of his tongue, tasting as much of him as I can, my hands roaming down his back and ass. He moans into my mouth, our tongues hot and hungry. This is our third kiss and yet it feels like the first. I can’t get enough of him, needing more, sneaking my fingers up his shirt, the contact of our skin creating burning electricity.
He backs away, gasping for air, resting his forehead to mine and then laughing. “I think we should kiss more times . . .” He runs fingers through his hair, finishing his thought. “You know, throughout the day, to see if it’s like that every time.”
“I’m happy to be your guinea pig whenever you need me to,” I say, sounding hopeful.
“I’m happy to take full advantage.” He has a glint in his eyes as he presses a quick kiss to my cheek, and my lips are feeling jealous. It’s crazy. He’s still kissing me. Only not in the right place.
“Should we play a game?”
I scoot back toward the pillows and stretch out my legs. “Sure.”
Excitement sparkling in his eyes, he reaches for a small yellow box and takes out a stack of cards. The game we play is one we haven’t played before, and we spend the next two hours laughing and smiling. I’m glad he decided to continue our camping trip here, resuming right where we left off.
When our stomachs start making noises and the snacks aren’t enough to hold us over anymore, he reaches into the cooler and hands me a Lunchable, setting a second in his own lap.
Laughing, I peel back the plastic. “What are we, ten?”
“Hey,” he says pointedly. “You’re never too old for Lunchables. Just like you’re never too old for card games.”
“Sure, I guess.” What do I know about what ages you’re supposed to do all these things anyway? I skipped my whole childhood, basically, living the life my father mapped out for me—one a kid should never have to experience.
Sauce drips down Nate’s face and I swipe it away with my thumb, rubbing it off on my jeans. “You forgot napkins.”
“There’s always something,” he says between chuckles, taking another bite of his small pizza. “But that’s what I have you for. You make a great napkin.”
Smiling, I go back to munching on crackers and ham. I don’t mind cleaning up after his messes. I could do it all day. As long as that means he’s here with me and not with some asshole like Gabe or Rick.
Two Lunchables and several boxes of Yoo-hoo later, Nate turns on a movie, positioning his laptop next to me on top of a pillow. Snuggling close, he rests his head on my chest, turning to his side. Halfway through the slasher film, he presses his lips to my chin, his kisses trailing to my lips, and we make out until the credits roll, both flushed and breathless.
“Now I see why people like making out at drive-ins and theaters.”
I laugh and he kisses me again, slowly and gently this time, his smile pressing to mine. The tree house holds us up for longer than I had expected it to, lasting through two more movies, dinner, and more experimental kissing.
In the morning I expect it all to end, that he won’t need to try kissing out for size anymore. I expect him to be ready to explore with someone else with how much more confident he seemed before we went to sleep, but I’m wrong. I wake up to more kisses, and his lips find mine again after breakfast and in between more games in the tree house. Our mouths connect again in the hot tub in the back yard, his hands clinging to my shoulders, and it’s hard not to tug him onto my lap again.
I look forward to him reaching for me whenever he needs more of his fix, but by the next day he’s stopped, and though I hope it will only be a short break, it turns into the end of what we’d been doing. He’d sworn it wasn’t wrong as long as we both wanted it, but if he doesn’t want it anymore and I still do, does that make it wrong now?
Seven
Nate
