“Drew,” she said on a whisper.
“I’m sorry if that’s weird or wrong or whatever. I can try to—”
“Drew.” My name came out more forcefully this time, and I shut up and gave her my attention. “I like your eyes on me.”
“Yeah?” I asked as a smile I couldn’t possibly have repressed spread across my face.
“Yeah.”
I’m not sure which of us moved first, but in the next instant, we were kissing. Maybe we both moved at the same time, our bodies in such sync that the timing couldn’t help but be fluid and exact.
Her lips were soft and pliant under mine as we teased one another’s lips with light kisses. Needing her closer, I brought my hand up to cup her jaw, my fingers gently weaving into her hair and bringing her more firmly to me.
Her lips opened on a gasp, and I deepened the kiss, allowing my tongue to tangle with hers. Her hands fisted the front of my shirt much like they’d fisted the back earlier, but I was glad that the cause was due to passion this time.
Kissing her like this was a gift I never thought I’d receive. So much between us was complicated, but this…this was simple.
My body tingled with the sensation of sharing breath with her as our lips danced together. It felt as though we’d been building to this moment since we met, and we’d finally gotten out of our own way.
Neither of us pushed to take things further. Hands didn’t wander, and bodies didn’t gyrate. We seemed to agree that this was enough. At least for now.
There was no need to push anyway. We had time if we decided we wanted it. I already knew I did, but it was a discussion that needed to be had. Later. I was too busy memorizing the feel of the delicate bow of her lips as they pressed against mine to get too far ahead of myself.
Eventually, the kiss slowed, and after a few light pecks, we both drew back. Her eyes remained closed for a bit longer, and she didn’t release her hold on my shirt. We stayed close, breathing one another in, perhaps both a little afraid of breaking the spell between us in case we never found the right means to bring it about again.
When her eyes did slide open, a smile accompanied. “That was…wow.”
“Definitely ‘wow.’”
“I wanna do it again,” she whispered as her forehead rested against mine.
“Me too.”
“Really?” She sounded surprised, which was baffling.
“I basically admitted to stalker-like behavior earlier. You really thought I was going to say no?”
“I just…things between us are—”
“Weird? Fucked up?”
“I was going to go with complicated, but it’s those things too.”
There was so much that could be said—needed to be said—but maybe all that could wait. The circumstances were messy, but the truth behind them didn’t need to be. “Now that I’ve had a taste of you, I’m not going to be able to stop unless you tell me to.”
She searched my face for a second, and I prayed she found whatever she was looking for. When she smiled widely, I guessed she had. “I don’t want to stop.”
Using the hand I still had resting against her jaw, I pulled her to me. “Good,” I said against her lips before I took her mouth again.
This kiss was as unhurried as the one that preceded it, but there was something more to it. Maybe it was the promise behind it—that we were in this together for however long we both wanted to be here.
Our lips slid together in a rhythm that showed how good we were together. There was none of the clumsiness of typical first kisses. Well, second kisses. Sophia and I had found our groove weeks ago, so it shouldn’t have surprised me that the expression of that was seamless.
Our tongues flicked over and over as we tried to devour each other. And when we pulled apart for good a short while later, my lips sore but tingling, we remained standing as we swayed to music only our bodies could hear. But exhaustion finally pulled us under, and we broke apart, neither of us saying anything because words would only ruin things.
And this night was too special to ruin.
Chapter Twenty
D R E W
“You sure I look okay?”
I ran my fingers through my now blond hair. Sophia had straightened it for me so I could part it over completely to one side. How any woman found Justin Bieber hot remained a mystery to me. Especially because I was now convinced he looked like a butch Miley Cyrus.
“Yeah.”
Sophia was busy playing with her own hair in the mirror by our apartment door, adjusting the strands of her wig until she found what seemed to be an ideal spot on her shoulder or back. She didn’t look like Beyoncé necessarily, but she did look hot as hell.
“You don’t sound sure.”
“Will you please let me draw some tattoos on you or something before we go? Justin has both sleeves done.”
“I am not letting you come near me with any markers. I’ve seen you doodle a few times, and it looks like something a preschooler did while tripping on acid.”
She was still facing the mirror, but she turned to face me after my comment, giving me one of those tight-lipped grins that made me wonder if she was getting ready to burst out laughing or deciding how to dispose of my body.
“You love my drawings,” she said.
I saw my eyebrows raise in the mirror. “I love many things about you. Your art isn’t one of them.” As soon as I’d spoken, I knew the question was coming, and I searched my brain for an appropriate way to respond.
“So what are these things you love about me?” she asked.
Her question had been asked casually, though I had a feeling the answer meant more to her than she was letting on. She walked over to the chair and grabbed the jean jacket she’d tossed over the arm, but she never looked away from me. Maybe she was scared I’d escape out the window if she took her eyes off me. I’d thought about it.
Though Sophia and I no doubt liked each other more than friends or pretend siblings, we hadn’t exactly vocalized our feelings for each other any more than we had last week after we’d come home from Tonic.
Since then, the tension between us had built gradually. We’d sit next to each other on the couch, close enough to put a hand on the other’s leg but ultimately holding back.
I’d come out of the bathroom the other day, towel around my waist, and I could see Sophia’s eyes dart toward the laptop on her lap as I walked by to grab clothes because I’d forgotten to bring them in when I’d showered.
We’d both steal glances at the other however we could or the occasional touch to an arm or back, but neither of us took anything further.
Sophia pulled on her jean jacket—unfortunately covering her exposed back where her tight black leather dress dipped down almost to her ass—and stared at me expectantly. I’d been so lost in admiring her, I’d almost forgotten I was supposed to answer the question.
Say something. Anything. Well, maybe not anything. Don’t say boobs.
“Your sense of humor.” Good boy. Totally innocent.
She cocked her head to the side like I’d just told her my dog ate my homework. “You’re saying that because you think it’s what I want to hear.” She slipped her bright yellow stilettos on, and I wondered if she’d be taller than me in them.