Oh, fuck. I was parchment paper. Petrol. Flammable. His smile lit the fuse; his words fanned the flames.
Will lifted me up, my back sliding up the wall as I hooked my legs around him. His sigh travelled through my body and into my soul.
“We’re both dying here.” He ran his mouth along my jaw and that’s all it took, I was ready to give myself, all of myself, damn the consequences. “We’re torturing each other.”
“Why now?” I asked, needing to know.
“Because I didn’t think you’d feel the same way, I was worried that if I started it, I wouldn’t be able to get enough of you.” Our hands were on each other’s faces now, fingers looped around ears, tugging at hair just to get as close as physically possible without diving under skin and bone. “We’re messy and complicated and anyone sane would run in the opposite direction. But me? Skye, I gravitate to you. I have this infatuation that never gets tired.”
“You annoy me,” I taunted, banter never far away, and a sexiness about me that I really fucking loved. “We tolerate each other, always have. In fact, I’d say we have a hatred.” His finger pressed against my bottom lip, stopping the words. His eyelids dropped. Closed. Briefly shut until he was with me again.
“We don’t hate each other. We have a mutual want,” he growled as his hand found my breast, moulding the shape, watching the flesh push up around his fingers. He’d pushed his shirt sleeves to his elbows revealing the arrow tattoo and I’d never found it sexier. The geek in the flannel shirts and Superhero T-shirts had the most awesome, hidden tattoos. “I’ll give you a challenge. Walk away from me now or let me kiss you.”
“Let you?” I laughed, pretending to be outraged but loving his claim of me.
His hand gripped my chin. “Look at me. Turning away means you’re hiding. Look.” The grip loosened and his hand trailed the contours of my neck “Don’t give me that hard stance bullshit, Skye. Let me kiss you or walk the fuck away.”
“Will,” I gasped, ready to hear the words, ready to accept this but still hearing the doubts. “We need to stop this. We’re here with other people.”
“Two dates. A brief fling,” he replied. “They’re insignificant against the history we have. The last I saw your date, he was checking out a drag queen dressed as Lady Gaga, and Margot, well…she isn’t fucking stupid, Skye!”
I pressed my head against the wall. Needed to feel something else, something other than this clouded lust that had been permeating for what felt like decades. I tried to focus on the pain of the clip fixing my hair in a tight spiral as it pressed into my scalp, but all I could feel was the bulge in his trousers pressed against my hip, his hand tracing my neck, and the need to fuck.
“How long have you wanted this? As long as me?”
“Longer,” I whispered breathlessly. “Longer than you. I guarantee it.”
“I wanted to fuck you the second we met.”
“Liar,” I panted.
“I don’t lie. I tell the truth plain and simple. I’ve imagined fucking you for what feels like a lifetime.”
“Why didn’t you?” I goaded.
“I have to answer that?” He laughed. “When we both know that friendship stood in the way.”
“A perfect cock block,” I said, tracing my fingers along the ridge of his erection.
“Damn our friendship,” he moaned against my neck.
“I don’t care if it ruins what we have. I need to feel. I need to unleash it.”
“Fuck, Skye. I need you.”
“Can we be friends after this?” I needed to know, needed to hear his answer.
“No,” he mumbled against my pulse. “We can be lovers.”
Fuck. Right answer.
“There’s no going back after this,” I gasped. “And I’m worried I’m going to fuck it up.”
“Not possible.” We rocked together in sync, clawing just to get closer. Years or pent-up lust locked away. Tonight, the doors had been opened. Caps undone. Inhibitions loosened. “I’ve wanted you for a lifetime. Watched you from a distance. Admired every part of you.”
I loved this side of him, the one kept hidden, the sheer gravity of what we had to lose that he’d pushed aside with ease. I felt his hands slide into my hair. They’d been there before when he helped me dye my hair lilac after losing Elliott and I wanted to escape my identity, my life. It was stupid to think the colour of my hair could change me.
Only Will did.
He pulled me from the despair of grief, carried me, held me. Loved me. I gasped as his hand reached places he’d never touched before. Parts of my body that were surely asleep before tonight. He was waking me up, surging me with heat and power.
“No one else touches you,” he panted.
“No,” I managed to get out.
I didn’t know where this would take us. I’d been hesitant and frightened to ruin what we had. Shackled by the terror that I’d fuck us up, but as I pressed my lips to his, I’d never felt so free.
He kissed. He devoured.
He knew what I needed and he took me there.
Pulled my hair before holding my hand.
Light and dark and every colour in between.
We were brand new, yet discovering.
Voices and whispers and branding.
His hands dug into my flesh, fingers roamed, and this kiss would sear itself against my mouth forever. Our lips meeting, merging, connecting.
I was falling, but he was holding me steady. Hands to my ass cheeks, yes, but something more.
He
