Page 94 of First-Time Caller
“I . . . haven’t decided that yet either.”
“We can’t keep doing this, Aiden.”
“Doing what?”
“You know what,” she breathes. I’ve seen so many shades of Lucie, but I’ve only seen this one in glimpses. Heavy eyes. Pink cheeks. This is Lucie when shewants.
I turn in my chair and our legs knock together. I set my palms against her knees to hold her steady. “This isn’t a good idea,” I tell her.
“Why?”
“Because you’re looking for something else.”
Her eyes drag down to my mouth, then flick up again. They’re darker than I’ve ever seen them.Tortula ruralis.Moss right after it rains. My thumbs trace the buttery-soft material of her jeans against her thighs without a single thought for the consequence. Her body tilts toward mine.
“I know. But I can’t stop thinking—” She sighs around the rest of that sentence, watching me. “You’ve thought about it too, haven’t you?”
I nod. It feels like my brain has been rewired to only think about it. About her.
She shakes her head slightly. “Maybe—” She bites down around the edge of the word, her jaw clenching tight. Her eyes search mine.
“What?” I ask. My thumbs trace over her knees again. A little higher to a spot that makes her breath hitch. All I need is the flimsiest of excuses, and I’ll have her flat on her back on this table.Give me a reason, I want to beg.Please. Make the choice for me.“Maybe what?”
She releases a breath. “Maybe we should try.” Her tongue swipes at her bottom lip and my body flushes hot. Spark plugs in my chest, doing something ridiculous. “Just to see,” she adds, leaning into me, eyelashes fluttering when I raise my hand to cup the side of her neck.
I nod. Her skin is so soft. I spread my fingers wide. “Yeah. Maybe.”
Her face tips toward mine. We’re drifting closer, the space between us almost nothing. Our noses bump together and she makes a soft sound. “We’re mature adults, right? This is—”
“—fine.” I finish for her. Maybe if I give in to this pull, it won’t feel so goddamn intense. Like swiping your finger along the icing of a cake. Just a taste to cut the craving.
I press my knuckle to her chin and drag my nose down the length of hers.
“Lucie,” I try one last time, reason wrestling with desire. I don’t want to take anything from her she’s not willing to give. “I’m not what you’re looking for,” I try to remind her.
She hums, dreamy and light. “You might not be what I’m looking for, but you’re what I want. And that’s enough for me. Trust me to decide for myself.”
I curl my other hand around her rib cage. “Tell me to stop,” I whisper.
Her hands fist in my sweatshirt, twisting. “Absolutely not,” she whispers back.
She shifts closer and the corners of our mouths connect and float away. A low sound sticks in the back of my throat. I should scoot back. Put a stop to the flirting and the looking and the touching and the wanting that splinters down my spine and breaks over my skin every time she so much as glances in my direction. I’m nothing but a distraction for Lucie, a sidestep off the path she should be on. Kissing her won’t lead to anything good.
But I’ve never claimed to be all that good to begin with, and I’ve been on my best behavior for weeks. Lucie’s mouth forms the shape of my name and my restraint crumbles, reduced to dust at her feet. I don’t want to fight it anymore. I can’t.
“Fuck it,” I whisper, and I drag her mouth to mine.
CALLER:How can you tell if someone is attracted to you?
LUCIE STONE:Oh! Um. I don’t—I’m actually pretty terrible at reading cues. Clearly. That’s, uh, why I’m here.
AIDEN VALENTINE:That’s not why you’re here.
LUCIE STONE:Oh?
AIDEN VALENTINE:You’re here because you keep dating—what did you call them?—dillweeds.
LUCIE STONE:[laughter]
