Page 71 of To Catch a Firefly

He tugs his underwear and pants into place, not bothering to button them, and drops to his knees in front of me. His hands weave back into my hair, and he looks at me. Simply looks.

I’ve never been as comfortable in silence as I am with him.

Finally, he kisses me, a hard, demanding thing. “Can I?” he asks.

“Can you what?”

“My mouth,” he says, hand landing on my crotch.

My hips hitch forward, my long-neglected cock throbbing under his touch. “If you’re sure,” I get out, even as every fiber of my being shouts in fervent agreement.Yes, yes, yes.

“Sure,” he says, pushing me gently down to the ground. He doesn’t hesitate to open up my pants, even as his fingers skim along my hips and lower abdomen. He takes his time, mapping my skin, laying gentle kisses, and bringing my need to a boiling point, before he finally tugs down my briefs enough to free my cock. He takes it in hand then, his eyes meeting mine.

“There’s no wrong way,” I tell him. “Don’t bite me, and we’ll be good.”

He huffs a small laugh at that, but there’s a smile on his lips, too. Much to my surprise, he lowers his face slowly, turning his head at the last moment and nibbling ever so gently against the side of my crown.

I buck against him, a zing traveling up my entire body as I huff a laugh. “Okay, maybe a little biting,” I concede.

His grin would topple me if I were standing.

When the flat of Ellis’s tongue drags over the tip of my cock, my eyes slip shut. He sucks me into his mouth, and I have to work hard on controlling my breathing. He glides up and down, his hand holding my base steady as he explores. It’s sloppy and unpracticed and by far the best thing I’ve ever felt in my life. The sun is warm as it beats down on my face, the low leaves of the corn stalks brush my arms, and nothing exists but Ellis and me in this place where we met. This place where we began.

“El,” I warn, getting close. He redoubles his efforts, and I bring my eyes to his, knowing it’ll send me over the edge but unwilling to miss another moment.

When I come, it’s like a punch to my solar plexus, soul-consuming and comforting all at once. It’s that feeling of home I’ve only ever had with him. It’s the rumbling of mountains and the kiss of wind through the fields, and it’s love.God, is it love, wholly, pure, and absolute.

I won’t ever love another the way I love Ellis, and I don’t want to. He’s it. He’s always been it. And for the first time since we’ve known one another, I know, as I look into his brown eyes, that whatever piece of me is tethered to Ellis has a counterpoint. An equal pull.

Mrs. Cole was right. No matter what, nothing will keep us apart. We’ll always come back to one another, time and time again.

Chapter 25

Ellis

“Don’t wanna go,” Lucky mumbles, his lips skimming mine.

Don’t want you to, either. Not yet.

I tighten my arms around him, tossing my leg over his as if I could trap him here with me indefinitely. We’ve been up for half an hour already, putting off the inevitable. Lucky needs to leave soon.

I’m not quite ready to let him go.

Lucky catches my lip between his, tongue flicking against me before he meets my mouth solidly. We’re in my bed again, cuddled under the sheets as if they could somehow hide us away from the rest of the world. I can barely make out Lucky’s features. He’s bathed in darkness, but the outline of him is familiar. The riotous hair, the shape of his shoulders. Even the feel of his lips is a map I’m quickly becoming accustomed to. I never knew, before now, how intimate the act of kissing couldbe. Maybe, possibly, even more so than sex, even though my experience in that regard is limited.

I could do nothing but kiss Lucky until the end of time, and I would be content. I’d swirl with him in the sky until we were one, binary stars gravitationally bound to one another.

“Ellis,” Lucky says quietly. When his phone pings, he groans against my mouth. “Damn it. Time’s up.”

I nod, tracing the side of his face. Lucky catches my hand before I can lift it free, bringing his lips to my palm.

“It’s not goodbye,” he says.

My chest squeezes. “I know.”

“Three weeks tops.”

“I know,” I repeat.

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