Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
I go because anytime I’m close to him feels like I’ve won the war. As soon as I settle onto his lap, his hands take hold of my hips, and he rubs gently. The thin material of the dress with not much underneath means the heat from his hand warms my skin. I lost track of time and let my body ease against his to rest my head on his shoulder. Touching his chin, I wait for him to look at me before I say, “I would have chosen you, Poet.”
“I know. I know that now.” He kisses my forehead and lingers against the surface. I don’t know what he’s thinking. Maybe he’s wondering, like I am, whether this is the beginning or just another one-time thing. Maybe how much time we’ve lost, or was the time apart always needed? I’m not sure they’re questions we can answer, but they linger as his lips did.
Dropping his head back like it weighs a ton, he says, “What a night, huh? I go from the highest of highs with my deal being announced to—”
“The lowest of lows being stuck with me?” I burst out laughing, knowing he’d never think that. But the laughter feels good, that we can laugh together with our past no longer unresolved between us, lightens my entire being.
He rests his hand on the hem that’s slipped up my thigh. The mere touch of his finger on my skin creates enough heat to make me long to be with him. The feel of our bodies connecting again isn’t just a faint memory. My body awakens, the desire to kiss him tingles on my lips, to make love, and to feel the connection we almost lost again. Resting my head back next to his, I remember feeling that ache between my legs for days. The pain in my heart never went away. Not until tonight. Leaning over, he kisses the exposed length of my neck, the tip of his tongue dipping out to taste me there.
A plume of desire inflates my chest, causing me to gasp quietly for air. “It’s been so long,” I whisper, knowing sex is not something we should jump back into this quickly. But my body is apparently in disagreement, a traitor when it comes to Keats.
He slides a hand up my side and over my ribs. The tips of his fingers add pressure, evoking a moan from me. I should be worried about how he perceives me, but I can’t seem to care. The one thing my Poet has always done is accept me for who I am.
Strangers would argue we’ve known each other for mere hours, but our relationship extends years, our hearts tied together across this city. I hated our time apart, cursed it through tears and anguish, but I could survive knowing he still existed in this world.
Angling on his lap, I hold his face while I run my lips across his neck. The scruff is sharp but turns me on, making me alive again. He moves his hand higher until he’s cupping my breast, squeezing and kneading, causing my nipples to harden. My hips sink and rise, the need between my legs already deciding what comes next. Turning to me, he meets my eyes as he readjusts under me. His hand leaves my body as he takes hold of my chin. “What are we doing, Spark?”
“I don’t know, but should it feel this good?”
He chuckles. “It’s you and me. It’s always going to be this good.”
I gobble up his confidence like an aphrodisiac. But before I get lost in kisses and hopefully more, I say, “I need you to know something.”
“What is it?”
In a short span of this reunion, I’ve already discovered that this man is better than a memory could have been, but when I felt alone, he’s my biggest ally. “I’m leaving.” I’m quick to make the correction. “My house, my parents’ house. I had already decided during dinner that I was leaving. The pub was only one last favor before I would be gone forever.”
I’ve not accomplished much of anything worthy of pride in my life, but it still shines in his eyes when he looks at me. Brushing his fingers over my bare shoulder, he says, “You should have kept the ring.” His smile quirks to one side with the late-hour exhaustion hanging on the lower end.
I burst out laughing. “Now, why would a girl like me need a four-carat diamond ring?”
Chuckling, he replies, “The money gone from his bank account would be a good reminder of your absence.”
I sweep my loose ponytail forward over my shoulder and twirl my finger around the end of the lace. “I don’t need a ring or his money.” I kiss him, but before our lips part, I whisper, “I have a shoelace that means way more to me.”