by K. M. Liss
“I'm thinking of potential moves,” he says, smoothing the back of my head with his hand.
I laugh.
“No you're not. We’re having a real sweet hug here, aren't we?”
“Nothing wrong with a hug while I think, is there?”
“It's a little bit too intimate, in my opinion.”
He looks down at me, so serious, his eyes glittering brightly.
“I wish I could remember it. Last night.”
“I'm trying to forget it.”
“It can't have been that bad?” His eyes look hurt.
“You want me to answer that do you?”
I know why I'm saying this. It's self preservation. By denying my feelings out loud, I'm less likely to shout out, ‘I love you. Please fuck me,’ which is on the tip of my tongue and dying to escape.
“I was drunk. It wasn't ever going to be good.”
“That's probably for the best, I feel.”
“I'd love another go. Sober.”
“Another 'GO'? I'm not a fucking fairground ride...” I kick him hard in the shin, which kills my toes, encased only in their soft leather jazz shoes.
I storm off.
I hear him complaining with pain as I stomp off to the ladies’ changing room, slam the door, and sit there fuming in the chair.
If he'd said almost anything else, such as he wanted me or he found me irresistible, I'd probably have succumbed. Removed the leotard, there and then, and offered myself to him, in the studio.
He knocks on the door.
“If your name starts with an M and ends with an N, fuck off,” I shout.
He ignores me and comes in anyway.
“Sorry, that was a crass thing to say.” He slides his backside half on the dresser in front of me.
“Damn right it was.” My anger subsides and my eyes start to fill, and the drops spill over.
What a horrible mess we are starting to become. It’s all unravelling.
“Come here... please?” He cocks his head to one side and opens his arms. “I've upset you.”
“It don't take much.” I rise and he stands and holds me tightly against him.
“I didn't mean it to come out that way. I meant to say, if the opportunity arises, and you end up in my bed again, I pray to God I'm sober.”
“That's a definite improvement.” I smile up at him.
“But, I'm not pushing you.”
“Meaning?”
“If it happens, it happens.”
I lift my arm and pull his head down, his face close to mine.
“Remember, it's already happened for me.”
“Almost, or so you said, and I've apologised for my dreadful part in it.”
I shush him.
“Just kiss me. Please.”
He hesitates to close the final inch gap between us, and I stand on tip toe, placing my lips gently on his.
Our breath mingles, and a flame of pure excitement floods through me as he pulls me in, softly rubbing his mouth against mine.
“Oh Christ...”
We both moan the same words together as our mouths open and our tongues sweep across to taste and explore.
His hands wind their way through my hair, tugging at the roots and massaging my neck.
I pull away, breathing noisily, my chest heaving up and down. His eyes are dark and his breathing's matching mine.
It's an off the scale gorgeous feeling. I've never been so turned on in my life, as I am in this moment. Not with Jackson or anyone ever before.
“I'm not your type...” I whisper.
“Oh yes you are. You're perfect for me.”
“No one's perfect Mason.”
His cheeky grin appears. “Well I know I am, and you are.”
“But I have tattoos and piercings and small boobs.”
“I really don't care what size you are or any of that. You're just you. And I like you, a whole damn lot.”
This is a whole new and different Mason. I'm even more in love with this one. If that's possible. My love and sex switch is on. Fully on, and about to explode. Things are going to happen.
I nibble his lip and hear his harsh intake of breath. My tongue circles his mouth and I lick my way around to his ear, nipping and sucking at his earlobe. My fingers are busy, ruffling his hair and scraping my nails over his scalp. I am so enjoying doing this, and even more, enjoying his hands roaming beneath my leotard again. Squeezing and rubbing my ass until I'm fit for nothing and a heated, quivering, moaning wreck, at his mercy.
A steady stream of loud breaths leaves his mouth, surging past my ear. I pull back and look at him. I want him so badly, my insides hurt. I wish I could say the words, but I want him to make all the moves.
He steps away from me, abruptly.
“Come on, get dressed. Let’s go home before I fuck you on the dirty floor.”
“Maybe I'd like that.”
“You deserve far better than a filthy old floor. Silk sheets and champagne.”
“Your blue duvet will do just fine for me, Mase. All I want is you. ”
His eyes hold mine.
“And I want you, babe.”
We rush out to the car, full of excitement. I don't know what's going to happen between us after this, but it's something we need to do. It's been festering inside us like a hurricane waiting to blow in from the ocean. And now it's meeting dry land, about to pick us up and send us into the unknown.
The air sizzles between us as we set off.
“This is going to be the longest drive of my life,” he groans, edging painfully through the London gridlock.
“I'll put some music on, to calm us down.” My hands are shaking with excitement as I place my iPhone in the car dock and choose Alicia Keys latest album. “There we go. Alicia, do your best, girl.”
It's amazing how quickly music takes you out of yourself.
I place my hand on his knee and then settle in my seat.
As we leave, we cast glances at each other, seeing each other in a new light.
All the months we've spent together, becoming so very close, and yet fooling around, pretending we weren't interested.
How could we have denied it for so long?
This moment; this very second; I'm wild about Mason. Dying for him with every breath in my body.
I want his hands on me, and my hands on him. The feel of his skin against mine, his weight, smothering every inch of my body in kisses, his hardness buried deep inside. I need to smell him and taste everything that Mason is.
And I want to hear him whisper my name, over and over and over again.
I see the same strength of feeling mirrored in his eyes, and that makes my heart soar with hope for us.
We may only be going back to our modest flat.
But right now, that's somewhere so special and wonderful to me.
It's our place, our heavenly little spot in the world, and about to become even more ours, more special and more wonderful.
I run my hand up and down his thigh sensuously, a long sigh escaping my lips, as our eyes meet.
My whole body catches fire.
I wish the car could fly ― soaring above the traffic and obstacles ahead.
I lean across and kiss him on the cheek, my eyes closing as I inhale his scent, and savour the feel of his hair roughened skin. His face moves beneath my lips in a wide smile.
I really can't get there fast enough.
.
***
Part two of Move Me – Shaken - coming soon.
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I also write under pen name Jessica Miles (Jessie M) in the paranormal romance genre.
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