Page 28 of Fifty First Times (Sharing You 0.40)
“Here,” he says, taking my hand gently and guiding it to a spot on his forehead. Above his left eye, there’s a small raised scar. I touch it, and then, before I’ve thought about why, I pull him closer and kiss it.
A tiny groan escapes him, and I wish I could see his face to know what it means.
“Can I?” he asks, a breathy whisper, and then I know. He’s turned on. And that makes me braver.
I see the shadow of his hand near my face and I fight to keep from flinching away. I want to tell him no. But I also want to feel his touch. “Yeah.”
His fingers brush like butterfly wings over the smooth skin of my left cheek and send a shiver through me.
“Okay?” he asks.
Each of my breaths is a jagged burst. “Okay,” rattles out on one of them.
He thumbs my chin, and finds a small scar there before trailing oh-so-softly over my lower lip. He stalls there, on the scar that cuts through the corner of my mouth, and I hear the change in his breathing. His palm cups my chin and he leans closer. God, I want this. Instead of following my instinct and pulling back, I tip my face up.
When his lips touch mine, I stop breathing altogether. His fingertips find my scarred cheek, and the chaos of emotions inside me collides with the tumult of overpowering sensations from his touch and his kiss, leaving me reeling.
He draws slowly away. “Okay?”
“Okay” escapes on a shaky breath.
He explores my face with his fingertips. He’s still so close I can feel his breath on my cheek, and I drink in the smell of warm sheets and soap. Him.
“Okay?” he asks again, his fingers sifting through where the scar disappears into my short hair.
“Okay.” It’s more confident now, because, through my tremble, I feel his.
His lips trail over my scar, from my hairline to the corner of my mouth. I close the inch between us and kiss him again. His hand scoops around to the nape of my neck and draws me into him as he seals his mouth over mine. His tongue flicks at my lips and I open, letting him in.
Because I trust him.
And I think I might even love him.
WE PULL UP in front of my house, but neither of us moves to get out of the car. He lets go of the gearshift and takes my hand. I feel him lean closer, and I meet him halfway. His kiss is gentle, but insistent, and I can feel the hunger in it. I could kiss him forever.
He draws away and looks down at me. “You okay?”
At his question, I start shaking again. I’ll never be okay. “How much do you want to know?”
I feel him stiffen at my side. “Anything you want to tell me.” His fingers weave into mine. “Everything.”
I tip my head back and stare into the darkness. I never let myself think about what happened that day, but as Rick lifts my hand and kisses the back of each finger in turn, I feel the gates opening. I don’t want anything between us, and it feels like this is the last thing. If I tell him this, he’ll know the whole me.
“We were caravanning medical supplies into base and there was a car broken down in the road. We started to weave around it, but it exploded just as Chris’s Humvee was passing. I was in the one behind him, and shrapnel cut through our windows.” I shrug as a tear trickles out of the corner of my eye, pooling in my ear. “That’s all I really remember, which sucks, because it makes the whole thing sound so insignificant. I hate that. I want it to sound as huge as it feels.”
“It’s huge,” he says, a quaver in his voice. He thumbs away my tear and kisses my scarred cheek.
I lift my head and kiss him hard, needing to feel this. Needing to know I’m alive. He kisses me back just as hard. Just as desperate.
When he walks me to my door, my lips are swollen. He gives me one last kiss as the door opens.
He pulls away, but doesn’t let me go. “Hello, Mrs. Vargas.”
“How was the concert?” I hear both hope and trepidation in Mom’s voice.
“It was great,” I tell her, hoping she’ll take the hint and give me a few more minutes with Rick.
She doesn’t.
