Page 57 of Deep In Love
Charlie pushes up on her toes and crashes into me, her palms splayed against my abdomen as she consumes me whole.
This kiss is nothing like the last. This is a wildfire consuming the last of the oxygen. A hurricane barreling toward shore. An earthquake rattling the ground. It’s tongue and teeth, demanding and controlling as her breasts press against my chest.
My fingers tangle in her hair, the strands like silk while I wrap them around my fist, pulling as I take control, guiding the kiss into something slower, passionate. I’ve thought about this moment for years, and I plan to savor her like the finest tequila, get drunk on her.
Charlie moans when I trail my tongue across the seam of her lips, demanding entry. The space between us shrinks, the towel around my waist perilously close to falling.
A shudder racks down my spine as her hands roam along my skin, up my back, across my chest, down my shoulders. Each touch is more exploratory than the last, likes she’s learning each curve and angle of my body. I groan when she deepens the kiss, nipping at my lower lip, and the pleasurable sting spreads through my limbs.
We slam against the cabin wall, and my knee rests between her thigh, holding her upright. Her hand trails along my jaw before shereaches out and flicks off the light. My heart skips at the sudden shift to darkness, then skips again when she presses a kiss beneath my ear and down my collarbone, each one softer than the last.
Stars burst along my vision as she kisses the column of my throat, then down to my pectoral muscles. She lingers above my heart, and I have no doubt she can feel my erratic heartbeat. Her finger grazes my skin above the towel, and my eyes snap open.
The darkness hides her mischievous smile, but I know it’s there—as confidently as the earth is round. I cover her hand with my own.
“We should stop,” I say, reaching out to turn on the light. I want to see her.
“I thought you were the smart one,” she purrs, her fingernail dragging down the center of my chest, leaving a trail of sparks along my skin as she inches toward what the towel can no longer conceal. “What happens on the boat can stay on the boat.”
The light snaps back on, and I pull away from her touch. “I want more than sex, Charlie.”
How could she believe that all I want from her is sex?
A crinkle forms between her eyebrows, offering the world’s cutest confused face, but a pit grows in my stomach from her words.
“What? Like cuddling after?” she asks. “I guess we could do that.”
Her tone tells me she’s not sold on the idea, but she waves a hand in dismissal like it’s not a big deal. Wide, frightened pupils tell me it is amassivedeal and she’s doing all she can to exude nonchalance.
“No.” I step back. “I want more. Date you. Get to know you.”
“Date me?” She slams a finger against her chest. “Like boyfriend and girlfriend?”
“Potentially.” I shrug. It’s the end goal, but she’s freaking out about cuddling, so I’m not going to jump the gun.
“I—Well…What?” she sputters. Maybe it was too bold to say, but then again, she was ready to drop my towel, so notthatbold.
“It’s this thing,” I start, knowing it will get a rise out of her, “where two people get to know each other, and if theylikeeach other”—I wiggle my eyebrows—“they becomeexclusive.”
“I know how dating works.”
“Just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page, because it’s what I want, bruja. What happens on the boat won’t stay on the boat for me.”
The words I don’t say hang in the air.All or nothing.
I don’t want a silly fling with Charlie, and I’ve spent too long silently standing by. If I can’t be honest with her about what I want, I have no right to pursue anything at all.
But I know what I want, and it’s Charlie. Not for a night or a three-week trip, but tomorrow and every day after until our days run out. I’m sure about her, about us. Only took two years for me to workup the courage to admit it to her.
The adrenaline of her kiss fades, and I realize I’m standing in my towel, nearly naked, while she deliberates on my proposition. I slip on a pair of shorts while she flits her focus around the room, deep in thought.
This is her thinking face—her weighing-every-option face—and I hold my breath, hope vibrating in my chest.
“What are the rules?”
A surprised laugh tumbles out. “Rules? There are no rules, bruja.”
“So we make the rules, then?” Her eyebrows scrunch, and I itch to reach out and smooth away the tension.
