Page 7 of Jagged Line Paradise

Her fingers dig into my scalp, keeping me from moving away. “Don’t stop,” she says, gasping, her green eyes fixed on my lips. “Not yet.”

I hold her gaze as I let my fingers move the way they were—playing with the hem of her shirt—before disappearing beneath it. When my left-hand grazes over her skin, slipping over her stomach, her eyes widen and she gasps, but she doesn’t stop me.

No, she arches her back.

I push her long hair over her shoulder with my right hand and bend to gently kiss the side of her neck. I test her, scattering kisses along the curve of her flesh until I find a spot that makes her tense, then tremble with a whimper—it’s just beneath her jawline. I stay there, using my tongue to swirl around that spot until I can sense her crumbling in my hold.

My fingers creep up, and when I feel the fabric of her bra, I decide I just can’t help myself. I’ve waited so long, wanted her for what feels like forever. The thought of touching her there, grasping her tits in my hands, playing with her nipples…shit. I have no self-control. I palm her breast, giving just a light squeeze, and she sucks in a sharp breath.

“Holywow,” she whispers on a breath.

I chuckle with my lips against her skin. “I can’t even get a cuss word out of you forthat?”

She almost never swears. I’ve only heard her say “fuck” once, and it was as shocking as if I’d seen baby Jesus himself in the flesh. It was maybe a year ago, after hour two of trying to get her raging drunk mother, Cindy, to quit screaming at the neighbors outside their trailer so someone wouldn’t call the cops on her.

As belligerent as the bitch was behaving, it was surprising that no one had called the cops. Avalon screamed, “Fuck you!” at Cindy when she was finally fed up with trying to help her, and it was the cuss heard around the world. Cindy went silent at that because it takes a hell of a lot to piss off Lonnie enough to raise her voice, to swear, to storm off.

WhatI wouldn’t give to hear her curse and talkdirty because of what I do to her.

She’s hesitant and careful with her words. “It will take a heck of a lot more than that to get me to cuss at you, Andrés.”

“You want more?”

She’s still except for the heavy rise and fall of her chest, quiet except for the air moving in and out through her parted lips. I can feel the rapid tempo of her heart beating beneath my fingertips, and I can’t help but wriggle them against her skin, just above the top of her bra.

Her gentle green eyes flutter shut and my heart beats faster. Her expression makes it clear that she likes this, and it makes me hopeful that we can do this, make this work, this shift from friends tomore.

But then, her eyes snap open and she pulls back. I let my hand fall away and she smooths down her shirt.

“I want more, I do...” She looks away, off toward the mountain line that’s fading into the sinking darkness as night begins to fall. “But I don’t think I’m…I might not be ready?” she says it as a question.

My other hand is still on her waist and since she hasn’t pushed it away, I don’t let go. I slip it around to the small of her back and drag her into a hug, kissing her cheek before sighing into her hair. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“Scared me?” She pulls her head away and smiles at me. “You don’t scare me.”

“You know what I mean. I’m not trying to push you into moving too fast.”

“But you want to move fast…don’t you?” She says it with an adorable, curious tilt of her head. There’s no judgment in the question. She’s pure like that, never passing judgment on me, regardless of all the shit I’ve pulled. It’s why I don’t hesitate to tell her the absolute truth.

“Yes, I do. But I can deal with slow. You’re worth dragging it out for.”

She plucks a strand of hair from over her shoulder and twirls it around her finger. “Walk me home?” She gives me a smile that’s small but sincere, innocent but intriguing. It’s a smile that makes me desperately wish I knew what she was thinking.

I stand, brush the sand off my ass, and hold out my hands for her. She takes them and I pull her to her feet. She slips on her well-worn, pink glittery flip-flops. When she reaches around behind her to dust the dirt from her denim shorts, a sudden urge overtakes me. I reach out and snatch her wrist, tug hard, and spin her around to face away from me. She gasps as I keep her arm tight in my grip while my other hand darts out to slap and swipe the dirt from her fucking gorgeous, round ass.

I drop my hands to let her go and take a step back as she whips around lightning-fast to face me, her fiery hair whipping across her cheeks with the dramatic fling of her head. I hold up my palms in surrender, running my tongue over my bottom lip before I give her a crooked smile. Her mouth forms a perfectOof shock, but her eyes are so honest and true that she can’t hide her amusement from me.

She takes a step toward me and I step back. She stops, pursing her lips and puts her hands on her hips. “You are so gonna get it for that,” she says, trying so hard to keep her lips pressed in a straight line, but she just can’t do it.

She can’t not smile.

She steps forward, I step back.

She lurches, faking me out, and then she pounces, rushing into my space. She reaches out and snatches the drawstrings of my hoodie, tugging both strings toward her with a quick yank that tightens the hood around my neck. She jumps back and there’s a beat—a quick moment that makes the air swirl between us, a breeze that blows away tension and insecurity, and strikes up a storm of playfulness and possibilities.

So many damn possibilities.

She grins, turns, and runs.

---