Page 89 of Mixed Signals
“We could try,” I offer. “Just like before. We can figure out what you like together.”
She gives me a nod and I pull her shorts down another incremental inch. Her shirt is rucked up around her belly button and all I can see is smooth, pale skin. The dip between her waist and her hip. The very edge of her lilac underwear and a peek of ink, right below her hip bone. My mouth goes dry and I pull her shorts down to get a better look.
A tattoo, no bigger than a half-dollar. A whisk and a kitchen knife crossed together and surrounded by a wreath of flowers. The small tattoo is placed right below her hip bone, on the gentle slope along the inside of her thigh. I trace over it with my thumb, the delicate lines raised beneath my touch, and her whole body relaxes beneath my touch.
“Nova did it,” she explains. “I wanted to get something just for me.”
I lean down between her open legs until I can press my mouth to it. I kiss it once. Twice. On my third kiss, I give in to temptation and lave my tongue against the ink. I seal my teeth around it and bite.
“No one else has seen it?”
She shrugs and tilts her head against the pillow. I rest my chin against the inside of her thigh. I want us to have every conversation exactly like this. Her fingers in my hair, the scratch of her nails soothing along my scalp. “No one else has commented on it. But I guess no one has ever looked at me the way you do.”
“Good.” I scrape my teeth along the edge of it again and she lifts her hips into me. “Then it’s something just for you—and a little for me, too.”
She makes a sound—pleased, I think—as I drag her shorts the rest of the way down her legs. I leave her pretty purple underwear right where it is, lace and satin and another impossibly small bow right on top. I can see the jut of her nipples through the thin material of her t-shirt, her chest heaving. It takes every ounce of my restraint not to rip everything off of her and follow her down into her pillows.
I inhale through my nose and try to slow myself down. Layla deserves patience, not me rutting her down into the mattress like a maniac. I want to know her. Learn her. Understand all the things that make her pant and shiver and shake.
“These are nice.” I drag my thumb across the thin band at her hip and follow the line of her underwear across the top to the small bow in the middle. I stop there and twist my hand. I drag my thumb straight down the middle of her. I can already feel how wet she is through the thin material. How warm. I do it again and reach for my jeans with my free hand, undoing the top button.
“I like nice things,” she says, staring hard at where my briefs peek out from beneath my waistband.
“You deserve nice things,” I tell her with a laugh in my voice. If she wants that nice thing, she can have it, too. But I want to make her come first, just like she asked. I hold steady with my hand on her, gentle swipes of my thumb between her legs. I trace every inch of her until her arm is flung over her face and she’s chasing my touch with smooth rolls of her hips.
Pretty. She’s so fucking pretty.
“Caleb.”
I brush a kiss against the inside of her knee. “Hm?”
“Are you going to—” She lets her question trail off into a soft moan.
“What?”
“You know.”
“I don’t know if you don’t ask me.” I move my kisses higher to the smooth stretch of her thigh. “Didn’t you tell me you like to be teased?”
“Is that what you’re doing?”
Sort of. Mainly I’m trying not to go too fast. I want this moment with Layla to last. I want to remember what she looks like exactly like this—long, lazy limbs and bare skin. Pink cheeks and her eyes on me. All of these new and secret pieces of herself that she’s entrusting to me.
I press at her hip and she lifts her knee, tilting her legs open wider. An invitation. “You’re supposed to tell me what you want, remember?”
Her arm shifts and she peeks one hazel eye down at me. Her lips are curled at the edges. I reward her with a kiss right where her thigh meets her hip and she makes another soft, sweet sound.
“You can tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.” I add another kiss higher, light and easy, right over her underwear. She tilts her hips up with a sigh. “I’ll be happy to give it to you.”
Her arm slips back over her head, twisting with her hair against the pillows. She stares down at me, face open.
“I want your mouth on me,” she whispers.
I brush a kiss against her thigh, a reward for her honesty. “Where?”
My voice is all grit, a command from somewhere deep in my chest. I want to know exactly what she wants. I want her toask. I want to hear the words.
“Caleb, please.”
