Page 62 of Written in the Oceans

He pulls my face to him to mold my lips into his. The taste of my tears fills what creases are left in the wake of our kiss. This kiss is gentle. Every bit reserved and cautious. He’s taking his time and absorbing every second we spend consumed in it. When he pulls away, his breath is still hot on my lips.

“Eleanor,” he whispers, his voice caressing my skin. I can’t help but feel completely and undoubtedly adored. His voice makes my heart fill to the brim with emotion that makes it clench and mourn for the moment he pulls away, whenever that inevitable moment will be.

His thumb caresses my chin, then moves to my lower lip before his lips replace it. My hands reach up to him, holding on to his shoulders then gravitating into his hair. They thread through the back of his head, and I shift my body so that I’m on top of him, my legs on either side of his lap. My face is leaned forward so it hovers over him, making my hair drape the sides of his face. With one sweep, he reaches up and gathers it all, moving it to one side. He tilts his face towards me, and our kiss becomes a cluster of mingled breaths and soft moans.

He welcomes my position as his hands graze my legs and travel slowly up my thighs. The hem of my dress slowly lifts with his fingers, leaving behind a trail of heat and static that makes it difficult for me to focus on anything else. Our kiss deepens, my tongue meeting his with equal fervor. It feels intoxicating. All of my senses are heightened, and I smell, hear, and feel everything. Like the sounds of our lips clashing and clothes rustling against each other. Or the scent of Rhylan weaving in with mine. Even the way his feather soft touch, making my core tighten and quiver at the same time, brings me to a puddled mush of languid limbs toppling over him.

My hands manage to move down his chest, searching for the buttons on his shirt. One by one, I undo them, working downwards towards where our bodies meet. The shaking in my hands is hard to hide, so I work quickly. With his chest half exposed, he lifts my dress, raising it upwards. I instinctively raise my arms, and his hands continue to graze my sides as he lifts my dress off all the way, letting my hair cascade down my bare back. He watches me in awe as his eyes skate over my body, marveling at my existence like he can’t believe he’s holding me in his arms. His lips part, letting out a warm, stuttered breath.

“You are so beautiful,” he says breathily against my lips, making me shiver. “So.Goddamn. Beautiful.”

He leans forward to remove his arms out of his sleeves and wraps them around my back, flicking his fingers on the hooks of my bra. Having lost all sense of control, I close my eyes and roll my head back, completely submitting. The sound that escapes me results in his hold on me tightening, my skin growing taut as his fingers pull at my waist.

I bring my face back towards him, our foreheads touching and our breaths filling the space between us.

All the heartache and pain that’s been pulled to the surface effaces as I look into his eyes: cool pools of blue that darken in the smooth silk of moonlight cascading into his living room. The twinge that’s taken over my heart is replaced by a thrumming beat that rattles erratically in my chest.

His eyes search mine. “Are you sure?”

I nod.

TWENTY-EIGHT

RHYLAN

She doesn’t say anything, just nods. In fact, save for our breaths, it’s completely still around us. It’s only us two in this world. We’ve transferred to that deserted island I wanted to escape to. Everything seems to have disappeared, and I feel invincible. Like we can do anything that we want.

I pick her up, her legs wrapping around my waist, and stand from the couch. We continue to kiss as I walk toward my room. Her hands skate over my shoulders before taking hold of my hair. When her hands thread through my hair, I feel heady, like she’s wrapping me around her tiny finger. As if she could convince me to fight dragons or lasso the moon down to her.

Once I walk through the door to my bedroom, I lean her against the wall. My hand moves from where her knee hooks at my waist and glides up her thigh. All the while, her lips don’t leave mine.

I have a moment of clarity right then. A moment where all the doubt that I carry deep in my chest pulls to the surface. It reminds me that I need to tread carefully, that I’m being reckless and throwing complete caution to the wind. It causes me to stop.

She’s breaking down her barriers even though I tried to lay out the risks. I want to throw every red flag at her to remind her that I’m not good enough for her. But at the same time, I don’t want to let her go. I want to hold on tight to her because right now, she feels like my only anchor.

“Rhylan?” Her sweet voice rings through my ears. Her hands move to my chin, and the way she caresses her fingers over my skin feels comforting, reassuring.

I lower my head, my hair tickling her chin. My breathing grows deep. The pain etches into my heart, which works overtime to find the right words. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” I say, my voice low and strained. “I–I don’t know how to not hurt the people that I love.”

Her eyes search mine, and I can’t look at her. “Rhylan,” she says, relief plied into her sigh. She hasn’t said anything but my name, but I want to believe her. I want to believe her unspoken words telling me,It’s okay, you can trust me.

She doesn’t say anything else. Instead, she lowers her face to meet mine and kisses me, extinguishing all the self-doubt that always manages to rear its ugly head when I feel like I’m on top of the world. She pulls my face up towards her, urging me to keep going and never stop. So I keep going, with no plans to ever stop.

I move to sit her on my bed. We hurriedly finish undressing each other, taking off the remaining pieces of clothing that come between us, before I pull away to look at her. I look at the way her body dips and arches in the right places and how her smooth skin looks so pure against the moonlight skating over her. She’s luminous, not just her skin or her hair,her.I bend down to loop my arm around her waist and hover over her to resume my kisses, all while laying her down as we both sink into the mattress. Her teeth lightly graze against my lower lip, sucking and teasing, eliciting a randy groan to ripple through my chest.

She reaches up to me to place my face between her hands, lifting her head and letting her hair billow softly under her. I thread my hands through her hair, scooping the back of her head and pressing her into our kiss, leaving both of us breathless.

“Eleanor,” I whisper as I trail my lips towards the dip of her neck. I call her by her name. Not the moniker that she forces everyone to call her but her beautiful name that feels natural coming off my lips.

I unravel as her hands move up my stomach and across my chest, pulling me closer to her. Her body arches against mine, her head rolling back, leaving her neck exposed. I try to move gently, to not rush things, and take things slow, inch by inch. But when her fingers cling to me, I lose all sense of control. And when a needy mewl leaves her lips, I can’t even remember why I was taking my time in the first place.

“Rhylan,” she moans, her hands pulling at my waist with her hips pressed into me as if to relieve the built-up pressure inside of her. Her grip roams down to my ass, her nails digging into my skin, desperately pushing deeper.

“Goddamn, Ellie. You’re driving me sofuckingcrazy.” The whisper of my voice veils over her skin, just where her collarbone meets the hollow of her neck.

I create a pathway of kisses down her bare chest, traveling along her smooth, silky skin. I could live forever buried against her, inhaling her intoxicating scent that reminds me of citrus and vanilla. Her fingers grip my shoulders when my lips travel to parts of her that make her body tremble. The curve of her breast, the dip in her navel, the creases in her hips.

When my tongue meets the heat between her legs, finally tasting and savoring her, her back arches off the bed at the same time a sharp cry squeezes through her throat. Her fingers find their way through my hair again, gripping the roots as she tugs roughly, urging me to continue. My hands move in deep, languid strokes over her skin, squeezing and kneading while my tongue swirls in tandem.

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