Page 123 of Two-Step
And today, my God, today, he kept me from losing my integrity with Jonathan and then he did the impossible.
He gave me the courage to stand up to Moira. Something I have never, never been able to do.
And now he’s staying with me through a hurricane.
This man. This smart, stern, serious, self-reliant, gentle, generous man, deserves more than to just feel good.
My voice is barely a whisper when I speak. “And the next time you’ve been grading too long, you just hold it here for a few minutes…”
Again, I picture him hard at work, late after a long school day. I’d love to come home and find him like that. Walk up behind him, plant a kiss to the very spots I’m attending to now, and take the stress away. Whisper a greeting and pull him away from his work.
I’d like to feel like this at home.
Longing, great and terrible, threatens to pull my bones from my body. When his school year begins, I’ll be gone.
My heart craters at the thought.
I grip his shoulders, needing to hold onto him.
“That feels good,” he murmurs, oblivious to this crisis that is chewing me up. What I feel is too big. It’s too much to contain.
I’m in love with him.
I want to be with him.
“Beau?” My hands still hold his shoulders, and I’m grateful he can’t see my face just now. “I think I made a mistake.”
He whips around to face me, his look as dark as the storm raging outside. “You didn’t. Putting some space between you and Moira is the right thing—”
“N-no,” I say, startled. Somehow, my hand is on his chest. Right above his heart. “Not that… I mean I made a mistake when I said we shouldn’t see each other.”
And because my hand is where it is, I feel it the instant his heart launches a thrashing beat.
“Iris—” His right hand cups my cheek, the look in his eyes transforming, but no less stormy.
“If…” I swallow, summoning the very last of my courage, “you still—”
His mouth covers mine, stopping the words, and as though the energy between us is too much, thunder rends the air overhead.
My hand at his chest fists his shirt. With the other, I clasp the back of his neck to pull him closer. Beau’s fevered tongue feeds mine, and the intimate recognition of his taste sets me moaning.
Without hesitation, I climb onto his lap, straddling his thighs and tipping his head back with my kiss.
It’s as though all the ties that have held me back my entire life snap at once.
I have never been more present. Than. I. Am. Right. Now. I feel everything. The fabric of Beau’s shorts between my knees. The tickle of his hair on the inside of my wrist. The rasp of his beard along my chin. His erection. My wetness.
And holy shit. I have a body.Hehas a body. We both have bodiesand they’re amazing.
His touch on me. My touch on him.IT’S ALL AMAZING!
For the first time in my life, it hits me that my body—my hands, my skin, my nerve endings, my muscles, my belly, my ass—the whole of my body is a gift.
And I want to share it.
I will. I will. Just as soon as I get enough of Beau’s kisses. I kiss him and I kiss him, and after what seems like an age, it begins to sink in that getting enough might take a while.
In fact, I might never get enough. But I want more, and by the sound of Beau’s desperate breaths, he wants more too. His hands are everywhere, rubbing down my back, gliding up my thigh, tangling into my hair.
