All Things Pretty (Pretty #3)(36)
Author: M. Leighton

“Yep. Just us. Wanna watch a movie or something?”

He frowns like I just asked him if I could have a kidney. “No, I don’t. I’m going to Trip’s. I’ll do my homework there.”

“Seriously?” I say, dropping my hands by my side. “What is it with you? Every single time I make plans to stay home for the night with you, you bail. What, are you allergic to me or something?”

“None of your business,” he says grouchily.

I bite my tongue. I try not to fuss. Or crowd him. Or treat him like a kid. Or like he’s different. Or do any of the other million and one things that I know upset him. Travis needs lots of calm. Lots of predictability. But he also needs social interaction and friends, something he seems only to get with Trip. So I keep my mouth shut and I pray that he doesn’t get into trouble or get hurt.

He lingers in the doorway. I don’t know if he has something else to say or if he’s waiting for me to say something. At any rate, neither of us speaks again and he just wanders off, back to his room to slam the door.

Half an hour later, I’m starting a load of laundry when I hear the front door open and close. I race to the porch before Travis can get all the way down the driveway.

“Don’t be too late!” I shout. Without turning around, back pack slung over one shoulder, he raises one hand in acknowledgment and keeps on walking.

Back inside, I go from room to room in our small house, straightening the few things that need straightening. After that, I paint my toenails. Then I put a mud masque on my face, the whole time thinking of Sig and his muddy handprint on my chest. Then I run a hot bath and shave everything from my ankles to my armpits. It’s as I’m lying against the cool ceramic that my mind starts to wander again. And it wanders to Sig. To his touch, to his kiss. To what almost happened earlier today.

My body aches. Just at the thought of him.

I close my eyes, effortlessly conjuring Sig’s liquid brown eyes, his perfectly sculpted mouth, his big, slightly rough hands. God!

Almost of their own accord, my palms drift over my breasts, pausing to tease the throbbing nipples, just like Sig would do. Like he did. I recall the feel of his mouth there, hot and open. Riling my body into a flurry of want and need. My core responds to my thoughts, sending a gush of heat southward. I move my hands down. Farther and farther. Closer to the place where the ache is strongest, where the emptiness is deepest.

I cup my center as my mind elicits Sig’s fingers, his lips, his tongue, delving inside me. Filling yet not totally, satisfying yet not completely. Teasing. Toying. Making me crazy. He knew I needed more, craved more. He was just enjoying the rise, the climb, until he could drive his body into mine and quench this excruciating thirst.

But my touch isn’t Sig’s. No matter how tightly I close my eyes, no matter how much I concentrate, no matter how much I wish it were his, it’s not. It isn’t his hands or his mouth. His kiss or his scent. His laugh or his growl. I’m in my bathroom. In my home. Alone, for all intents and purposes. Exactly what I don’t want to be right now.

Frustrated, I pull the plug to drain the tub before stepping out and toweling off. Standing in the steamy room, I rub scented lotion over every inch of my hyper sensitive skin, groaning with my want of something more.

I wipe the moisture from the mirror and meet the wide eyes and flushed cheeks of my reflection. I’m startled by what’s written all over my face. Desire. Withering resistance. Increasing need.

I won’t be able to stop myself from giving in to him. I know it as sure as I’m standing here. He’s like an addiction that has crept up on me unawares and taken over. I’m smart enough to realize when I’m fighting a losing battle. I’m also smart enough to realize that if I go about this wisely, we can both put an end to the torture and move on. Just once. One and done. It’s the way it has to be.

Enjoy tonight. Move on tomorrow.

But we can have tonight.

Tonight will be for us.

Sig.

And me.

And all that’s between us.

Just one night.

I stare at the same face, reflected now with subtle changes. Eyes bright with resolution, lips trembling with anticipation.

Once my mind is made up, I’m nearly frantic. I throw on shorts and a tee shirt–nothing spectacular since I don’t plan to be wearing it long–stopping only long enough to scribble Travis a note for when he gets home, telling him not to wait up and to call if he needs me. He’ll assume that I’m with Lance.

I don’t even bother pulling my hair out of its loose topknot. I simply grab my purse, lock the door and run to the car. I can’t get to his house quickly enough.

I’m out of breath when I make it to his door, knocking with all the urgency that I suddenly feel. When Sig finally appears in front of me, only a few short seconds (that felt like lifetimes) later, his expression is wild, like he was expecting something else. Trouble maybe?

His eyes meet mine, and we stand perfectly still and silent. He frowns for a second and then scans my face. His gaze travels over my flushed cheeks, my parted lips, down to my heaving chest. And then, as though he can somehow read my body and its intent, they flick suddenly back up to mine and stop.

For thirty second or so, a million unspoken things pass between us. There is doubt, indecision, a touch of fear. All on my part. In this moment, it’s driven home what a huge mistake I could be making.

On his face, one thing. A question. A single query. Can I walk away?

Can I?

With my heart beating an ancient rhythm against my ribs, marking me with a tattoo that I will forever be left with, I bask in the richness of his eyes, the beauty of his face and the acceptance of my choice, whatever it is. It’s all here, right in front of me. Someone who wants only me, to please me, to be with me. Nothing else.

That is what I can’t walk away from. Not just yet.

Wordlessly, I do my best to answer Sig, to answer his question. By holding steady, by standing still, unwavering in front of him.

Time slows. Body’s react. The only thing I can hear is the sound of Sig’s accelerated breathing and the rush of blood whirring inside my ears. And then I hear nothing. I see nothing. I’m immediately carried, heart, mind and body, into the tiny bubble of what I feel. For this man, for his touch, for this thing that’s between us.

With a strike so fast, it seems out of place in this molasses moment, Sig’s hands snap out to cup my face and his lips crash down onto mine. There is no room for second thoughts or questions or gentleness. There is only need. And passion. And a craving that’s completely out of control.