Page 193 of The Fall
He takes a bite, his lips brushing against my fingertips. Sweet juice escapes, trickling down my wrist in a warm, sticky path, and his tongue follows the trail of sweetness from my wrist to my fingers.
“Good?” I ask.
“Perfect,” he rumbles.
My body is liquid inside these sheets, my muscles loose from sleep and sex and sun. I slide my hand through his hair, then pluck a blackberry from the bowl and crush it against my neck. The juice runs down my chest, slow as gravity, staining my skin.
Blair’s gaze sharpens; his breath brushes over the slick trail. He follows it with his tongue, gathering sweetness from the hollow of my throat as his hands explore down my back, drawing me closer until every inch of me presses into him. His mouth traces the path left by berry juice across my pecs, lips catching on the sticky spot where juice pools at my sternum.
“You missed a spot,” I whisper.
His lips nibble along the line of my collarbone. “Where?”
“Everywhere,” I breathe. “You missed everywhere.”
“What’s on your bucket list?” My question floats between us on our dock, where we’ve stretched out on teak loungers to soak up the sun.
Blair rolls his head toward me. “You mean places? Or things I want to do?”
“Both.”
Blair takes his time answering. I like that about him, how he considers questions before answering, like each one deserves his full attention.
“I want to see Iceland,” he says finally. “Watch the northern lights. Swim between continents where the tectonic plates meet.”
Swimming between continents. It sounds mythic, like splitting your life into two eras: before and after you dared. It reminds me of how I felt when I woke up in his bed.
“Your turn,” he says, nudging my foot with his.
“I want to drive across the country.”
“Road trip. I’m in. We could take turns picking the music.”
“You’d regret that.” I stretch my legs out, letting the sun warm my skin. “One minute it’s ‘90s hip-hop, then I’m blasting musicals.”
Blair laughs. “I don’t mind.”
I close my eyes against the bright sky, feeling weightless. “Any other bucket list items?” I ask after a while.
Blair goes quiet, and I open one eye to peek at him. His expression is thoughtful, gaze fixed on the horizon where blue meets blue. “I want to coach kids someday,” he says. “Not right away, but eventually.”
I turn my hand over, palm up, and he slides his fingers between mine.
“What else?” he asks.
“I want to learn to surf.” The words come easier now, these shared dreams taking shape between us.
“That’s a perfect excuse to rent a beach house in Hawaii.” He shifts on his lounger, propping himself up on one elbow to face me.
“We should make a list,” I say. “Of all the things we want to do, and the places we want to go.”
Blair squeezes my hand. “Together?”
I squeeze back. “Together.” I want it all.
I roll onto my side to face him properly, our hands joined between loungers. The sun beats down on my shoulders, but I don’t care about the heat.
“Where would we start?” Blair asks.
