Page 54 of Web of Lies
Nope. Those memories can stay dead. “Maybe another time. When's yours?”
“November 27.”
“That's ...”
“Sagittarius.”
I'm not a philosopher, or a stargazer, or whatever the horoscope people are called, but I know most of the basics centered around Gemini, and Sagittarius is compatible with Gemini. This is a good sign. I can fall for a Sagittarius.
“What do you think Wyatt is?” she asks as she settles back against my side.
“What do you think he is?”
She's quiet for a minute, then very confidently says, “Scorpio. Or Capricorn.”
If he's a Capricorn, everything would make sense, including why it's so easy for me to push his buttons. Capricorns take themselves entirely too seriously.
“What do you think?”
“Baby, I don't care. I just want to hear you talk.” I let the unexpected truth of those words settle between us as I wrap my arm around her, resting my hand on her hip. It's so easy to be close to her. It's the most natural thing in the world to hold her and touch her, talk to her.
“We'll ask him when he gets back,” she says and lets out a soft little sigh as she sinks into me.
The movie goes on, but I'm not paying attention to it. My hand keeps roaming across her hip and thigh. I think that little shower scene we had has made me very comfortable putting my hands on her, and has made her bold enough to allow and even encourage it. I'm also pretty sure what I said earlier is right. She's got all the power she needs. Without trying to, or realizing it, she's got both Wyatt and me wrapped around her finger, regardless of the situation.
By the time the second movie finishes, she's had one round of popcorn and two rounds of gummy bears and I have been thinking more about the feel of her and what she looks like under those baggy clothes than I have the movie. I need to get up and do something to clear my head. What makes it so awful is that I don't think she'd turn me down if I acted on any of those thoughts. I think she'd be happy and content if I did act on them. The only thing stopping me is the fact that Wyatt wouldn't think very much of it if he came back to find Larken and me in bed doing anything but taking a nap.
I drag myself off the couch and stand up, stretching my arms over my head. Now, I'm not the most fit guy, but I'm nothing to sniff at either; and Ihavebeen thinking a whole lot of thoughts I have no business thinking about for the past couple hours. So when I lower my arms and look down at Larken, not only is she not looking at my face, but she's staring directly at the semi that's currently trying to make more room for itself behind my zipper. That's bad enough, but then she licks her lips and I suddenly don't give a shit what Wyatt's going to think when he comes back home and sees me doing all the raunchy things to her that I've been thinking about.
“You sure about that?” I ask, not moving and giving her plenty of time to look.
She blinks and it takes her a moment to realize that I've caught her looking and then she blushes.
“I don't mind,” I tell her. “If you want a better view, I'm happy to give you one.”
Her pretty pink blush turns into a scarlet one and she covers her face. “I didn't mean to.” The words are mumbled behind her hands. “I'm sorry. It was just …”
“Right there?” I supply.
“Oh god.” She covers her head with the blanket and tries to melt into the back of the couch.
Wyatt isn't going to find us in the bedroom, he's going to find us right here on the couch and I don't have the common sense to care. I saw the look in her eyes as she licked her lips. She needs to be fucked. Or she needs to get off. Either way, I'm happy to give her both of those things and I'm about to see how much she'll let me get by with.
I lean over, putting one hand on the edge of the back of the couch and I tug the blanket away from her face with the other. “Don't be scared, Larken. You've got all the power, remember?” Then I kiss her.
I've always enjoyed kissing and making out, and Larken's soft sounds and softer lips make it that much better. She tastes sweet when I gently lick across the seam of her mouth and she opens for me, giving me full access to slowly slide my tongue along hers. I push my fingers into her hair at the base of her skull and angle her face up for an even deeper kiss. She draws in a sharp breath through her nose when I deepen the kiss and whines a breathy complaint when I pull back to look down at her. Her eyes are hooded and staring at my mouth, her own lips parted deliciously, waiting for me to take them again. Yeah. I'm probably wrapped around several of her fingers. If I do this, there won't be any going back, and I won't have anyone but myself to blame.
“You okay?” I ask in a voice that has gone rougher, deeper.
She doesn't answer, but she puts her hands on either side of my face and pulls me back down to her. That's enough for me. I cover her mouth with mine, claiming it, thrusting my tongue aggressively inside in an imitation of the fucking that I want to give her. She wraps her arms around my neck, moaning and pulling me even closer to her. The moment my body touches her legs, she spreads them and drags me down, wrapping them around my hips.
That takes me by surprise, and danger bells start gently ringing somewhere in my consciousness. It's like she can't get me close enough to her. Like she's starved for the attention, and the touch. Several things click into place. I already suspected, but now I know for certain that she's gone without touch, much less this kind of touch, for far too long. The way she clings to me. The way she kisses me back. She needs this more than I imagined, and I have to be careful. She's already broken. I'm trying to fix her. If I fuck this up, there might be no bringing her back from the dark place she's trying to fight her way out of. This has to be good for her for way more reasons than just getting off.
She rolls her hips, pressing against my fully hard cock, seeking friction. “Wait,” I murmur against her mouth. “I'm trying to go slow.”
She blushes again, opening her mouth to say something but I kiss her again, pulling back to nip her bottom lip. “I've got you, baby. Let me take care of you.”
“I'm sorry. I'm not usually like this when I …“ she whispers, shyness or embarrassment making her trail off.
