Page 35 of Mountain Pine
Silence falls between us and I think he’s come to say goodbye. Like a for real bye. A I’m leaving and never coming back goodbye.
Am I really going to let that happen? Give him what he wants? Can I truly let this man walk away forever if it’ll help him be happy?
Fuck. No.
“I love you,” I say in a rush.
“I love you too, Taylor.”
He doesn’t get it. He’s saying it like we always say it. Like besties.
“Conner, I—”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah. Sure. Anything.” My heart keeps fluttering like a bird in my chest. It makes me feel all floaty.
“Can I kiss you?”
My fluttering heart stops on a dime and falls into my lap. I think I take too long to answer because he’s suddenly moving away from me and has his gaze on the floor again.
Panick-grabbing his shirt and yanking him against me with all my might, I smash my mouth to his. We freeze with our lips fused together and I breathe heavily through my nostrils. This feels… wrong.
Pulling back, I let him go.
Conner gawks at me, his cheeks ruddy and his heart pounds so hard it’s making his t-shirt jump.
“What was that?” he asks.
“What do you mean? I just kissed you. You wanted a kiss.”
“That’s not what I wanted. I wanted to kiss you. Not you kiss me.”
Are we arguing about this?
“We’re going to try this again,” he says, taking my hands and pinning them into my lap. “Can I kiss you?”
Bracing myself, I nod.
He leans into me slowly, as if giving me time to back out or tell him to stop if I want to. I don’t. This is what I’ve wanted for forever.
Conner’s mouth brushes against mine softly, tentatively. It’s weird and foreign and familiar and perfect. Just like I always imagined it would be.
It starts off gentle, but then he pushes a littleharder. I open my mouth a little for him and he deepens the kiss. His hands let go of mine and he threads one hand around the back of my head. The other is sliding up my thigh, belly, and winds around my lower back. His tongue sweeps against mine. The kiss grows and deepens and my body bursts into flames. I groan and match his energy, threading my hands in his hair. Scraping his scalp with my nails. Running my fingers down the sides of his throat and gliding them all over his pecs and biceps.
Conner’s grade-A hottie material. Like zero body fat, hard muscles, and smooth skin. It’s ridiculous how good looking he is.
Just when I’m ready to pounce on him and rip his clothes off, he slowly pulls away from me. We’re both breathing heavy and staring at each other.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he growls and then slams his mouth to mine again.
Game. On.
I rip at his clothes, and he breaks away long enough to pull his shirt off and toss it on the floor. Then he’s got me laid back on the couch, settled between my legs and we’re making out like two horny teenagers with the house to ourselves.
“Wait.” He lifts up again.
“No wait. Why wait. Wait for what?”
