Page 77 of I Hope This Doesn't Find
He lets out a soft, half-stifled groan, and the sound shoots straight through my bloodstream. Makes my pulse quicken. “God, you really know how to hold a grudge.”
“They’re your words, not mine,” I tell him, refusing to sway.
“You’re killing me now,” he murmurs against my neck. His lips graze my skin, and his other hand slides up, tangles in my hair, his nails lightly scraping my scalp. Despite myself, I feel my resolve buckle. “Isn’t that enough?”
“No.” I try to ignore it. The heat in my veins. The crisp scent of him, peppermint and rain. For once I have all the power, and I’d be a fool to let it go without putting up a good fight—no matter how badly I want him to just kiss me.
“Fine, then.” His breath warms the shell of my ear. Tickles my cheek. “Please.”
I can feel my heart pounding. “What?”
“Please, Sadie. I’m begging.”
A triumphant grin splits over my face. “All right. I suppose, in that case—”
He doesn’t even give me a chance to finish my sentence. His mouth is on mine in an instant, desperate, urgent. And I cave in. I hate surrendering, but maybe it’s different when you’re both surrendering to the same thing, because this doesn’t feel awful. The opposite, actually. My brain is buzzing, but all my thoughts are floating, nonsensical fragments as he deepens the kiss, wraps a hand around my waist, forces me farther back until my spine is pressed flat to the wall. Thoughts like:
If you told me this would happen a year ago, my head would explode—
I swear to god if anybody hears us—
Maybe the emails weren’t such a disaster after all—
His lips are so soft—
His hands—
Julius—
Julius.
“Julius,” I gasp.
I feel him smile against my lips. His voice is raw silk. “Yes?”
“N-nothing. I just—” It’s hard to focus. I squeeze my eyes shut. “It just doesn’t feel real.”
He shifts back, and the sudden absence almost feels like physical pain—until he kisses the curve of my neck. Murmurs, “I know. Even when I was imagining it—”
“You imagined this?”
He pauses, which feels like unfair punishment. Then he brings his lips firmly up to mine again. “Do you always pay such close attention to everything people say?” he demands between short, uneven breaths.
“No. Only what you say.”
A sharp intake of air. “You have to stop doing that, Sadie.” His hand tightens around my waist. “I won’t survive it.”
I’m not sure how I’ll survivethis, this overwhelming jumble of sensation, the want blazing through my body like wildfire, the need for more overriding all impulse control—
He kisses me harder, and I can barely get out my next words. “Wait—Julius, wait—”
With what seems like immense difficulty, he pulls away by just an inch, his eyes black and heavy lidded. He looks nearly intoxicated, delirious. I touch the base of his neck, feel the pulse striking his veins. The way it picks up beneath my fingertips. “What is it?”
“What if we’re bad at this?” I ask in a small voice.
In response, he only moves close to me, wonderfully, terrifyingly close, his mouth traveling over my jaw, and everything is spinning, spinning out of control, my heartbeat racing ahead of me. I almost forget how to speak. How to breathe. “Does this feel bad to you?”
“No, I don’t mean—” I tilt my head back without thinking. “I mean, you and me.We’ve hated each other for ten years, made each other’s lives difficult—how do you know—” I will myself to stay focused as he brushes a thumb over my lower lip. “What if we’re bad at—liking each other? What if we don’t know how to be—civil—or nice—”
