“What?” I ask through a laugh.
“Just trust me.”
“Uh, okay.”
She fixes her purse one more time and starts down the concrete steps to the parking lot. I close the door, trying to erase the confusion I’m sure is written on my face.
Em’s in her room, and I’m not sure if she’s getting ready or what, but I lightly tap on her door to let her know I’m home.
“Oh, be out in a minute!”
She sounds breathless and that makes me breathless, and I’m tempted to grab the Xanax and say screw the home remedies. But this is Em, and dammit, I’m going to try.
Doc said to make things comfortable. So I pull my phone from my pocket and call for takeout. I move the coffee table out of the way in the living room, punch the LoveSac so it’s fluffed, and grab my laptop and pull up NetFlix. Easy. Comfortable. Us.
The clock on my Dell says 7:32 when I hear Em’s door open, and a few seconds later she sort of . . . well, waddles into the living room. I almost comment on it, but the sight of her long legs . . . so much skin . . . sucks the words back down my throat. She’s wearing her hair down. She never wears her hair down. It’s long. Past her breasts and probably hits midback. At first I think my racing pulse is due to anxiety, but as I drink her in with my eyes . . . it can’t be anxiety. Because I don’t want to run. I want to chase.
“Damn.” It slips past the dryness in my throat, and Em’s nervous smile relaxes and a gorgeous flush fills her freckled neck. I lose my breath thinking about running my lips over that collarbone.
Inhale . . . five seconds . . .exhale.
She takes a step toward me, wincing slightly.
“You okay?”
“Yep.”
Her blush hasn’t gone away, and she eases down on the cushion beside me. Her hip presses against mine, and her eyes drift to the laptop.
“Do you mind if we do a no-screen night?”
I gulp. “Did you hear from your dad?”
She shakes her head, her long hair moving in waves over her breasts. I can’t stop looking there, and I feel like a damn fifteen-year-old in health class.
“I don’t want any technology tonight. I want just you, just you and me”
My lips quirk up at the corner, and I finally move my eyes from her boobs to her face. I reach out and shut the laptop.
“Sounds good.”
She smiles and slaps her phone on top of the computer. I take mine out and do the same. Then she pushes them to the side of the couch. I take the opportunity to check out her ass as she leans over.
And breathe again.
“Did you order food?” she asks when she settles back into the cushion. Her fingers wrap around mine, and I relax in the couch next to her.
“It’s on its way.”
“Hmm . . .” She taps her chin. “What to do to pass the time?”
I laugh as she waggles her eyebrows. This is comfortable, even though my heart’s pounding and I’m nervous, with this being our first official date, but it’s okay right now. So I set a finger under her chin and coax her to my lips. And we pass the time with slow, comfortable, amazing-as-hell kisses.
* * *
“I swear, I ate ten times more than you.” Em reaches down to her shorts and pushes the button open. I gesture to the entire carton of fried rice.
“I ate all of that. And most of the chicken.”
“You didn’t touch the chow mein.”
“Because that stuff tastes like rubber.”
“And rice has so much flavor.” She laughs and falls back on the LoveSac, her belly button making an appearance. I love that she has freckles on her stomach. Makes me curious if they pattern her entire body.
“It does when it’s filled with ham and eggs,” I argue, and she waves her hand in the air like she always does when she surrenders. I smile and fall back on the beanbag with her. We’re touching all along our sides, and it’s not making me panic. It’s making me horny as hell, but I feel okay. In control.
She twists to her side, pressing against me even more, and her body feels like it’s on fire. Or maybe that’s me.
“Let’s play a game.”
I adjust my arm so it’s not lying between us. “What? Like Scrabble?” I say, teasing.
“No, you dork. I want to play something fun.”
“Are you going to make up a game again?” I groan and she socks me in the stomach.
“Hey, you love my games.”
“No . . . you love your games, because you make up rules as we play so you end up winning.”
She does her cute nose-wrinkling thing, and her fingers trail up the buttons on my shirt. “What if I promise you’ll love this one?” The pink in her cheeks turns a darker shade, and the fire between our bodies rises a couple of degrees.
“Damn your power of persuasion.” I knock foreheads with her. “What are we playing?”
“We still have grapes in the fridge?”
“If you haven’t eaten them.”
She reaches down and tickles my knee. I instantly jerk away.
“Will you get them?”
Putting distance between us isn’t what I want to do, but it’s probably good for me to get some breathing space. Em moves to the floor while I’m digging around in the refrigerator. I hand the bowl to her and she gestures to the other side of the room.
“You sit over there.”
“Okay.”
“Now . . . rules,” she says, getting on all fours and setting the grapes between us. My eyes go right to her cleavage again, and her long hair that almost touches the floor. If I was underneath her, it’d probably tickle my chest.
Ah, hell. I make sure Em isn’t looking, and I adjust myself so my zipper isn’t killing me.
“We’re going to throw these at each other—”
“Sounds good, let’s go.” I laugh, reaching for the grapes. She slides them from my grasp, then pushes me back on my ass.
“We’re going to try to catch them, Eric. And every time I catch one, you have to kiss me.”
“I can do that—”
“In a place you’ve never kissed me before.”
“You mean like . . . in the closet?” I laugh, because I think there are only three places in this condo we haven’t kissed.
“No.” She sighs. “I mean like . . .” She trails her finger over the top of her shirt, right over her heart. “Here.”
My eyebrows rise, and she gets an adorable look of shyness on her face.
“Em . . .”
“Look, I know this is weird.” She relaxes back on her knees. “We’re friends. I mean, seriously, you’re my best friend, and I think you know me better than anyone. But we don’t know each other . . . physically.”
I’m getting dizzy, and I pinch my eyes shut, concentrate on Em and only her. I can do this . . . if I do it slow.
After a couple of breaths, I open my eyes to Em, whose brows are pulled together, concern etched in her brown irises. I attempt a grin to get her to relax.
“What happens if you miss?”
She blinks, the tightness in her forehead slowly smoothing out. “You get to ask me a question.”
“I take it this goes vice versa as well?” I ask, snatching a bunch of grapes from the bowl and plucking one off. “I catch it, you kiss me somewhere you’ve never kissed me, and I miss, you get to ask me a question?”
She smiles, swinging her legs out to sit on her butt. “Yes. Every catch, a kiss. Every miss, a question.”
“Okay.” I grin. “Open wide.” I chuck the grape at her before she has a chance to prepare. It bounces off her chin and lands in her lap.
“Cheater! I so wasn’t ready.” She picks the fruit up. “And ladies go first.”
“Making up rules again.”
“Shut up.” She laughs, then lobs the grape in the air. It’s a little short and to the left, but I get to my knees quick and catch it in my mouth before it hits the floor.
I show it off between my teeth, grinning li
ke a damn fool. Em giggles and crawls toward me, and I forget my breathing, and everything else, really, as she grabs my wrist and plants a kiss on my forearm.
Her lips turn up in a smile against my skin, and she looks up at me. “I’ve wanted to kiss that damn muscle for so long.”
I laugh and she sits back in her position. I should’ve known Em would take things slow because I asked her to. My hand is shaking as I take aim for her mouth, and it’s because I’m anxious . . . for her to catch it.
She opens wide, and I toss it directly at her tongue, but it bounces off her teeth and flies off somewhere. She’s laughing, and I’m secretly cursing my aim.
“Okay, now you can ask me a question.”
“I don’t even know . . .”
“Just anything you’ve wanted to ask, but never thought you could.”
The first thing that pops into my head is Who the hell is that dude that keeps IMing you, but we’re having fun, and I don’t really want to ruin the mood. Maybe I can ask her later. But right now . . .
“Uh,” I stutter, running a hand over my head. “If I wasn’t with Ali in high school, would you . . . would we have . . . ?”
“Gotten together?” she finishes for me, and I nod. “Well, I don’t know about you, but even though you had a girlfriend, I thought about it a lot. When you graduated, I almost kissed you, and I probably wouldn’t have given a shit if she saw. Then you had to move out of the freaking country, and I really thought I’d never see you again. That night was one of the most heartbreaking nights of my life. Why do you think I texted you so much? Instant messaged you every day? It wasn’t just because you were my best friend, though that was a big part of it. I wanted to be close to you, even if we were physically distant.”
I know it’s probably against the “rules,” but I get to my knees, pull on her arm, and kiss her hard on the mouth. She has no idea what she just did for me. Most of my insecurities stem from my weight, and even though I’ve lost a lot of it, I still see myself as that person. But she knew that person. Not only knew him, wanted him.
I pull back when I start to get a little panicky, but it flies away when I open my eyes. She’s flushed, grinning at me, and she nips at my nose before gently pushing at my chest.
“Sit back, you cheater.”
My body relaxes to the floor and I open my mouth, ready for her next throw. She tosses it underhand, and it almost touches the ceiling before coming back down. I arch my back to try to get it, but it bounces off my cheek and rolls to the kitchen floor.
“We’re going to have grapes all over the place.” I wink at her, and she shakes her head. Her teeth pull at her bottom lip before she sucks in a big breath.
I’m about to ask if she’s okay, but she asks her question in such a rush that I have to play it back in my head before I get it.
“Howmanygirlshaveyousleptwith?”
“Um . . . what?”
She slaps her hands over her face. “I’m sorry. I know I probably shouldn’t ask, but I feel like that’s something we should know about each other. I don’t know. We didn’t talk about it as friends, but as more than friends, maybe we should? I mean, I’ll tell you how many people I’ve been with.”
“Whoa, Emmy, you don’t have to—”
“It’s just been two,” she says, dropping her hands and talking to the carpet. “Kyle my senior year, and Jaxon last year. I never slept around, but I dated both of them, and you know . . . it happened. And I feel like you should know my history, and I’m not sure if I want to know yours . . . but maybe I do.”
“I don’t—”
“Maybe just tell me if it’s less than five. Or ten. Or, I don’t know. What’s normal?”
Her face is a deep shade of purple, and I can see her hands reaching up to cover it. Before she can, I lean forward, hold them in mine, and prod her to look at me.
“It’s less than five.”
She nods, and I can tell she’s holding her breath. I smooth her hair from her face and swallow hard. Open, honest, real. That’s what I want with her.
“Can you keep a secret?” I ask with a half grin. I expect a form of flirtatious abuse, but she just nods again. Dropping my voice, I inch closer. “It’s less than one.”
Her eyes widen. “What?”
“I haven’t slept with anyone, Em.”
Now her lips part, and her breath comes out a little ragged. “You’re a virgin? I thought you and Ali . . .”
I shake my head. I thought I’d feel weird telling her this, but . . . I don’t. It feels right. I’m actually damn proud I can say I never slept with Ali. And even though it was my anxiety and weight and insecurity that held me back from relationships with other women, I’m proud I can say I’ve never slept with anyone. Because honestly, no one feels more right than Em.
“I’m going to break the rules now,” she says, before pressing a kiss to my lips. Her tongue taps against mine, softly at first, then we stroke each other, breathe into each other, and I want to touch her places, feel her skin, but a prickle of panic goes up the back of my neck at the thought, and I break away.
One step at a time.
And it’s like she can read my damn mind, because she seems to be going at the same pace.
“Whose turn is it?” she says. I pick up a grape and give her a minute to open those plump lips, then give it a gentle toss that she catches with ease.
Her jaw slowly works up and down as she chews. I let my gaze drift over her body, and I wonder where I should start. I’ve only kissed her neck and mouth. There are several places I want to kiss her, but I’m not sure how to approach it. Not even sure if she’d like it. My heart starts racing, the bad kind of racing. The kind that happens before the walls close in, my stomach churns, and I bolt. So I inhale for five seconds, hold it, and exhale, eyes landing on her dainty foot.
Slow. We’re going slow. Making sure I’m breathing steady, I wrap a hand around her ankle and drag her toward me. We meet in the middle of the floor, and I can’t help but notice how incredibly smooth her leg is. It’s almost as if she’s never grown a single hair on it. I run my hand over her calf, grip her in the crook of her knee and pull upward. She’s not breathing, but I am. I’m taking as many breaths as I can so I can do this without freaking out.
When her big toe touches my cheek, I turn, slowly, watching her watch me, and I press the lightest of kisses to the arch of her foot. Her chest moves up and down, heaving for air, and for a moment I wonder if she’s the one having a panic attack. She bends her knee as I drop her leg, and she waves a hand at her face.
“Okay, if we’re going to keep playing, we need to crank up the air conditioner.”
I laugh, taking my spot on the other side of the room. I open wide, ready to catch whatever she throws, because I don’t care where the hell they are, I want her lips on me.
Chapter 15
Emilia Johnson
4 hours ago
On a date with my sexy boyfriend. Going offline!
60 people like this
***
I’m high.
I must be.
I’ve never been high before, but there has to be a reason for the term. Colors pop and swirl in my vision. My body feels like it’s about to flit away, but hands . . . lips, anchor me to the floor. The only thoughts zipping through my brain come in single phrases, incomplete sentences, and they each make me smile, moan, laugh, sigh, and float. I’m definitely floating.
I feel . . . high.
The thing is, Eric’s not even kissing me anywhere sexual. But I feel it as if that’s all he’s doing.
He pulls his lips from my hipbone. His thumb runs over my ocean wave tattoo, and goose bumps cascade over my skin, all the way up to the back of my neck.
“You never told me you got a tattoo,” he says, pulling my shorts back in place. He even buttons the top button I’ve had undone the whole night.
“I got it at the beginning of the semester.” I slide back to my spot on the opposite side of the room. “N
ever really told anyone about it.”
“Why not?”
“Wanted something for me.” Then I shrug and let out a tiny laugh. “And I wasn’t going to take a picture, considering its location, and I’m sure people would’ve asked me to post it.”
“Doesn’t mean you have to listen.”
“I have a hard time saying no when it comes to social-media peer pressure.”
“Well, if anyone ever sends you a link saying you won a million dollars, don’t click it.”
I roll my eyes and chuck a grape at his face. He must’ve been ready for that move because he catches it and celebrates his victory by showing the red fruit between his teeth, then chomping down.
He hasn’t caught very many, and I’m not sure if he’s doing it on purpose or not, but I’m grateful I get to plant my lips somewhere on his body I haven’t yet. And I know exactly where I’m headed next. Time to take this up a notch.
And if things keep going the direction I think they’re going, he’ll get to kiss my hard-earned, silky smooth . . . well, everything.
I attempt this sexy crawl toward him, but I end up knocking the bowl over and spilling its contents onto the floor. My knee squishes a grape flat into the carpet, and Eric’s laughing his ass off by the time I get to him.
“You shush,” I playfully scold, tapping a finger against his mouth. Then I drag it down his chin, down his neck, down his chest. Down, down, down, and his laughter’s gone. His breath is gone. I smile shyly and wish I was more confident in this moment, but I’m scared to death. Maybe this is the line. And I’m about to jet right across it and never look back.
My forehead runs along the buttons on his shirt as I move downward. He’s breathing now. Hard. Fast. His stomach pulses against my cheek and his breath tickles the top of my head.
I don’t undo his zipper, even though I see him straining against it. My heart’s beating too fast and my hands start to shake as I prop myself on his thighs.
A small part of my brain whispers to me, Mia . . .he’s a virgin. You may be the first to even touch him like this. And damn that small part, because it triples my nervousness.
But it doesn’t stop me.