Page 64 of Written in the Stars
What was she thinking? God, whatwasn’tElle thinking? A flurry of half-formed thoughts zipped through her mind. What she wanted, what she hoped... so much hope her bones ached, her body too small, almost bursting with holding it inside. Her skin was too tight, hot, itchy, and she wanted to strip it off, strip herself down, let Darcy see the full shape of her heart, messy and imperfect and with a space carved out, a space she’d been aching to fill for so long but no one ever fit, their angles too sharp, too rough, puzzle pieces never lining up right with hers. Elle had been waiting, waiting for the right person to come along who fit inside the space, that space inside her heartcarved out just for them. For her person, not aperfectperson, but a person perfect forher.
A person she hoped just might be Darcy.
Elle turned her head and brushed her lips along the inside of Darcy’s wrist. “You know, hoping I’m wearing cute underwear.”
Laughter sputtered from Darcy’s mouth, warm and bright, replacing the anxious swirl in Elle’s stomach with a giddy sort of levity.
“I should be the judge of that, don’t you think?” Hands still cupping Elle’s jaw, cradling her face with a delicacy no one had ever treated her with, Darcy leaned closer until their noses brushed once, twice—
Patience wasn’t a virtue Elle possessed. Surging up on her toes, she pressed her lips fully against Darcy’s, smiling into the kiss, her stomach erupting in a kaleidoscope of butterflies when Darcy smiled, too.
Hands sliding back to tangle in Elle’s hair, Darcy swept her tongue against the seam of Elle’s lips. Elle opened, moaning softly when Darcy flicked the tip of Elle’s tongue with hers, tasting, teasing.
The kiss was dizzying, her knees going stupidly weak stupidly fast. Screw sports cars, Elle had zero to sixty down pat. Fingers knotting in the hem of Darcy’s cashmere sweater, Elle gripped her tight, swaying into her. She groaned when Darcy’s tongue traced the roof of her mouth, sending tingles down her spine, her nipples pebbling against the wool of her sweater.
Gasping for air, Elle tore her mouth away and panted. “Can I take this off?”
Elle already felt bare, stripped down to hope and bones and the pulse inside her veins, raw from sharing on the astronomy tower and inviting Darcy over. It was only fair to strip Darcy down a little, too.
Darcy’s head bobbed as she lifted her arms into the air, letting Elle tug the sweater up and over her head.
Gah. Darcy’s bra was black, all delicate, sheer lace and thin straps that contrasted heavenly against her peaches and cream skin. A flush worked its way up her chest, skin mottling in sunset shades of pink and red, dark orange freckles dotting the swells of her breasts. Elle bit down on a whimper and dropped the sweater to the floor, hands hanging limply at her sides.
“Freckles and dimples and... damn it, Darcy.” Elle panted. “You’re so gorgeous you make my head hurt.”
Her heart, too, in the best way. A good ache, the best ache. Anticipation married to a promise, satisfaction guaranteed, only a matter of time.
Darcy threw her head back and laughed, the move highlighting the long, elegant line of her throat. More skin Elle wanted to trace, taste, freckles she wanted to connect in constellations she’d never get tired of exploring, the freckle beside Darcy’s mouth, Elle’s favorite, the one she’d always come back to. Her new North Star.
“Dimples? They’re caused by having a shorter than normal zygomaticus major muscle. It’s a facial flaw.”
Oh, please. “A sexy flaw.”
Cheeks pink and eyes bright, Darcy reached one finger out,curling it beneath the low V-neck of Elle’s sweater. Her finger brushed Elle’s bare skin right over her heart. “Fair’s fair.”
Elle reached for the hem of her sweater and yanked it over her head, freezing when the fabric snagged hard on her earring.Perfect. “Um. I’m stuck. Could you...?”
Hands reached up the neck of Elle’s troublesome fluffy sweater. Gently, Darcy freed Elle, then helped her tug the sweater the rest of the way over her head.
Hair mussed and bangs falling in her eyes, Elle blinked, flushing hotter as Darcy’s eyes dipped, staring unapologetically.
Pupils blown wide, Darcy lifted her eyes. Her tongue, bubblegum pink and just as sweet, darted out, licking her lips. “May I?”
Yes, yes. A thousand times,yes. Elle nodded so fast her head spun.
Fingers danced up Elle’s side, forcing her to bite back a giggle at the way it tickled, Darcy’s touch too soft. The laughter stuck in her throat, transforming into a moan when Darcy cupped the small, braless swell of her breast, her thumb sweeping against her nipple, featherlight.
Her knees trembled and her back arched sharply into Darcy’s touch. Her brain forgot how to make words entirely when Darcy dropped her head, lips skimming the skin stretched over her collarbone, and lower, trailing down Elle’s chest, pressing wet kisses to her skin that led to the peak of her right breast. Darcy’s lips wrapped around Elle’s nipple, sucking gently, tugging with her teeth until Elle’s skin went taut, pebbling. Darcy drew back and blew, the sudden rush of cool air against Elle’ssensitive skin making her gasp and reach out, fingers tangling in Darcy’s red hair.
One of Darcy’s hands slipped lower, slid beneath Elle’s skirt and between her thighs, cupping Elle over her leggings and damp underwear and pressing, rubbing with the heel of her hand, making Elle clench and mewl.
Before Elle could get any real relief, Darcy straightened and walked them both backward until Elle’s knees hit the side of her unmade bed. Elle fell, bouncing against her mattress and sinking into the mess of soft blankets.
Darcy tumbled down after her, hands braced on either side of Elle, bracketing her head. She skimmed her nose against Elle’s, breath fanning her mouth, making Elle’s tender, kiss-swollen lips tingle. Eyes dark and lids heavy, those long, enviable lashes that had first caught Elle’s eye on their disastrous blind date swept against the thin skin beneath Darcy’s eyes as she blinked, throat jerking as she swallowed.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been dying to taste you?” Rhetorical, it had to be, the way Darcy’s tongue darted out from between red lips turning the question into a confession. “It’s all I can think about. Tell me I can. Please.”
Fingers twisting in the sheets beneath her, Elle arched her back, pushing up into Darcy. The ache between her thighs intensified. “Fuck. Yes.”
