Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
“Can’t friends do anything they want?” he asks back. His eyes dart down to my lips and in this moment I know two things. One, he wants to kiss me. And two, I want him to do that.
The next thing I know, our lips touch, barely at first. Like a whisper through the air. But then it’s more than that and we are kissing. Slow kissing. Deliberate kissing. Like we are exploring each other for the very first time.
This time I do not feel a compulsion like I did outside the door on the hill. There is no magic here. It’s not a spelling or a trick.
But it is much, much more than just a kiss.
It is my desire to touch him in new ways now. To understand him better. And to make him want me. Or maybe to let him know that I want him.
As friends, of course. Because he’s right. Friends can do anything they want, as long as it’s agreed upon.
Eros doesn’t hesitate, but he lets me lead for a moment or two. Assessing me, maybe. Is this a quick kiss to end the day and start the night? Or is it going to lead somewhere?
I move closer to him, letting my hand fall to the round muscles of his shoulder, and then trace my fingertips down his arm where tattooed tendrils wind around like a snake climbing through tree limbs. There is writing there, and when the moonlight catches it in just the right way, the words, written in some long-forgotten language I do not read, glimmer like stars that live deep in the dark.
These markings are the story of him. The trunk of the tree going down his back is his history and the limbs reaching around his entire upper body are his people.
I am but a leaf, if that.
Or maybe, if I’m lucky, I’m a seed.
My touch is a signal that this is not a kiss goodnight, but an invitation to something worth staying up for. We’re going somewhere and we’re going there together.
As friends.
Eros responds by opening his mouth and kissing me harder, while at the same time, his hand slides around my hip, grips the curve of my ass, and tugs me closer. Right into the curve of him.
And it feels so right, so perfect, that I know, without a doubt, that the seed will take hold and something new will emerge.
Something that is just us, whatever that might look like.
That’s the future. A dream. A time and place yet realized.
But the most amazing thing about this moment here in bed with Eros is that for the first time ever, I feel complete in my present. I am content. I am… happy.
He urges me to roll over on my back, then slides his body between my legs. Opening them up as he continues to kiss me. His hands alongside of my cheeks, his arms boxing me in at the shoulders, but making me feel safe and protected instead of trapped and insecure.
He pulls back from the kiss, his thumbs caressing little circles on my cheeks as he looks down into my eyes. His hair, mostly dry now and blond again, hangs down over his face and brushes against my jawline. “Ya know what I think?” he says, but doesn’t wait for my answer. “I think we’re kinda perfect for each other. I think not only are you the answer for me, I’m the answer for you too. I think we were actually made for this. To be a team. To be lovers. And to be friends. And maybe I’m not allowed to love for real. But am I not allowed to redefine what it means? And am I not allowed to decide that love is you?”
Love is me?
Is he right? Is changing a thing as simple as redefining it?
“It’s a loophole,” I whisper. “Cursed, or not. Is it up to us?”
“We write our own future, Callistina. Don’t we?”
“We do,” I agree.
He leans to the side a little—his eyes locked on mine—and slips his hand between my legs. I close my eyes, enjoying the care he’s taking to pleasure me. There is nothing quick about what he’s doing. It’s slow, and deliberate, and meant only to bring me pleasure.
My job is to experience it. To feel it. To accept his gift.
And I do that fully. Climaxing with his fingers inside me after only a few minutes.
But while I’m still basking in that glow, he pushes himself inside me. Again, he goes slow and he is deliberate. He is careful. And I feel every single movement. Clutching at his muscular shoulders as he penetrates me deeper. Clawing at him when he begins to move slowly. Then arching my back, giving him access to my neck, as we climax together this time.
He doesn’t waste the access. First, he bites my neck the way a lion does. Claiming me. Not hard enough to make me cry out or draw blood. Just enough to let me know I’m his.