Who Needs Air Page 12

  I giggle. I can’t help it. I giggle like a damn school girl.

  Me: No. Soon. I have to pick my dress up from the dry cleaners. Should be about forty minutes. Why?

  August: I’m here. Getting ready. I was hoping I’d get to see you before the event.

  I take a quick look at the clock on my computer. It’s a little early for him to be getting ready.

  Me: It’s not even four yet. You’re early.

  August: Oh? I hadn’t noticed.

  He sends another.

  August: Maybe I lied to the director and got out early so I could see you.

  My heart begins to pound and I’m already on my feet. The past seven days have been hell and he wasn’t able to make Mama’s dinner. I’d be a bold-faced liar if I said I didn’t want to have him touch me again. Pull me into his arms. Kiss me until I’m lightheaded…

  Shit.

  Me: I’m on my way.

  Take Your Sweet Time

  August meets me in the parking lot as I squeal to a stop in my space. He opens the door in a whoosh and pulls me out in one, swift motion. Wrapping my arms around his neck, he slides his hands to my hips.

  “God, I’ve missed you.”

  I smile but his mouth is already on mine, gently coaxing it open. One hand finds my skin under my shirt to my stomach as the other tangles in my hair, tugging just slightly.

  He doesn’t ask if it’s okay to kiss me, he takes me as his and I give myself to him wholly. Tugging on his shirt, I draw him closer. Wanting more of him. Gently pulling on his bottom lip between my teeth, I let it go with a soft pop and he smiles against my lips.

  Stepping back, he pushes up his glasses and wraps his arms around me, placing me firmly in his vice. His hugs, so much like his kisses, say what he needs to say without words.

  When he lets me go, a calm expression on his face, he ducks into my car and pulls out my wrapped dress from the cleaners. With his free hand, he shuts my door and clasps our hands together, guiding me toward the apartment. When we’re inside, he sets my dress down on the table and heads to the kitchen. Watching him like this, comfortable in my home, makes my heart swell.

  I stand at the door, unsure of what he’s doing. I toss my keys to the small bowl on the table near the entryway, but they fall to the ground. I’m too entranced by him to pick them up. Reaching above the counter, he pulls out two drinking glasses and my favorite bottle of bourbon. Once they’re sufficiently full to his liking, he picks up both glasses, walking to me. My heart hammers faster the closer he gets. His eyes so predatory, I contemplate running in the other direction. I’ve never seen August like this.

  “Are you scared, Belle?” He offers me my glass of bourbon with a slight smirk on his lips.

  I blink, unable to say anything back. Grabbing my drink from his hand, I bring it to my lips, savoring the burn as I gulp it down, emptying the glass in four scorching mouthfuls.

  August does the same, never moving his gaze from mine, challenging me.

  I know we haven’t talked and I know we have so much to get through, but, in this moment, all I can think about is his hands on me, marking me as his once more.

  Five long years it’s been. Eighteen hundred and twenty-six long days watching him take over the book world and finding his way into Hollywood. Hundreds of thousands of hours I’ve silently waited for a miracle to happen.

  And now, here it is – here he is – standing in front of me, promising novels of love with his eyes and I so desperately want to write a new story with him.

  Sliding off my black cashmere sweater, he sets it on the countertop along with our glasses. Sauntering, he moves back to me, his steps precise, thought-out. Full of meaning. Pinning me against the door, my back hits it with a soft thud and I hear myself gasp. The sound makes his nose flair, his face becoming flushed. He places one of his hands flat against the door, next to my head and the other one slides to my side, just like he did earlier when he met me outside. This time, his posture is different. His eyes are more penetrating. His teeth tugging on his bottom lip seem as if they might rip the skin apart.

  His fingers dig into my skin and he pulls my hips closer to him. Forceful.

  A new August.

  He brings his lips to my neck, tracing patterns, causing goose bumps to break out across my skin. He trails them up to my ear, kissing the lobe. “Are you holding back, Belle?” he whispers with a harsh tone, like he’s fighting to keep himself in check.

  I shake my head.

  He bends at the waist, his teeth grazing my collarbone, nipping at the skin on my chest. Traveling up the other side of my neck, his mouth moves to mine and just before his lips meet mine, he stops. “Your lips smell like bourbon.”

  I pull back, hitting my head on the door. “What? You just poured me a glass.”

  The hand resting on the door comes to the side of my neck and he groans, pushing himself against me. “It doesn’t smell like alcohol, though.” He crushes his lips to mine, stealing my breath. His tongue seeks mine and I can feel him tasting me. He pulls back, kissing my lips once more and then licks his own. Zoning his focus on my mouth, he smiles. “Is it…is your lip balm bourbon flavored?”

  I laugh, stuffing my hand into one of the pockets of my pants, producing a small container of my personalized lip balm. “Actually, yeah.”

  He chuckles, his head falling to my shoulder. His shoulders bounce and right before he lifts his head, he kisses my skin. “How on earth did you get bourbon lip balm?”

  I chew on my lip, a little embarrassed that I sought out a store on Etsy to specially make it for me. “This amazing woman, Samantha, she owns a business and she made it for me.”

  “She makes lip balms for a living?” He’s in shock. I don’t think he even knew that was an occupation. I didn’t either but I’m damn happy I found her.

  Laughing, I answer, “Yeah, among other things. She works with a lot of indie authors. I found her because I read a book and the author mentioned her in the acknowledgments.”

  He’s staring at my lips now, his mouth practically watering. I can already tell he’s started to tune me out. “I know this conversation is my fault, but all I can do is think about your lips.”

  My insides twist and he pushes me to the door again. No longer weighted by surprise, I wrap my arms around his middle and melt into him, my hands flat against his back. Muscled and toned, I knead the tight skin.

  He moans, moving his hands, touching the skin under my shirt. His fingers skim up my spine, cradling the back of my head. “I want to be completely honest with you,” he says out of breath.

  His hand massages my neck and I tilt my head.

  “And,” He breathes, lightly tracing my skin with his lips. “You have to promise not to laugh.”

  I close my eyes, his heady tone and seductive hands taking over. I’d agree to about anything right now. I just want his mouth on mine. I want his mouth everywhere. I want me on him. Oh sweet baby Jesus. “Mmhmm.”

  “I’ve waited so long to tell you these words. The moment I realized it, I wanted to call you – come visit you even – but I was too ashamed.”

  Moving his hand from my back, he brings it to my stomach, the tip of his thumb caressing my breast. “O…okay.”

  When the hell did he think these words and why are we talking about it now? I mean, can’t it wait until, you know, after? We don’t have too much time.

  His hand moves up farther and all thoughts taking up space in my mind vanish. The only thing that matters is August. His words. His hands. His promises. His passion.

  I feel him pull back, but my eyes are closed and with the torment he’s causing with his hands, isn’t helping my situation.

  His chest bumps mine and his breath cascades over my face like a cinnamon blanket. My body instantly feels calm.

  “Open your eyes, Belle.”

  I do as he says.

  “I’ve always thought home was a place.” He stops to kiss my lips. “I thought it would be this extravagant mansion I
could buy with the millions of dollars I’ve made.” Bending down, he meets my eyes. His hands move to both sides of my neck, his thumbs stroking my skin. “It’s not. It’s you.”

  Heart explosions. Into a million pieces and falls onto the floor.

  “You’re my home, Belle. You always have been.” He breathes in harsh through his mouth, like it pains him to not have his mouth on mine. His eyes zone in on my lips and his hands go rigid. “I want you. I want you so much. It was so hard to breathe without you.”

  I anchor my hands on his sides and I can feel his ribs moving in and out. His breaths are ragged and mine mimic. I open my mouth, but his eyes, his luminous, dancing eyes dilate.

  “Can I have you?” he whispers and he looks so vulnerable. So unlike the August I knew all those years ago and so unlike the August everyone knows from the tabloids and gossip shows.

  I nod. I nod with so much force, my neck hurts. Bringing my arms around his neck, I hold him tight. “Yes. All of me.” Every single inch.

  With that, his mouth slams into mine and I pant. He moves from my mouth down to my neck.

  “August,” I can hardly whisper his name before his mouth is on mine again.

  Lifting me up, I hook my ankles around his torso, my nude heels digging into the muscles of his back. My arms encircle his neck, bringing him closer to my body. He kisses me the entire way as he carries me down the hall, toward my bedroom, and sits me down on the edge of the bed. I land lazily, gazing up at him.

  With a point of his finger, he gestures toward my shirt. “Off.” His eyes move down to my pointy-toed heels and my mid-thigh ballerina, black skirt. “Those stay on. Got it?”

  I’m already reaching for my shirt, willing and ready to comply.

  “Wait,” he orders, stopping me from removing my button up. “I want to do it.”

  I grin. I like bossy August.

  I knew this wasn’t going to be like the other times we made love. We were practically teenagers then. No. This time, it would be different. More intense. He was desperate to write a new scene with us and I was more than willing to let him.

  His fingers are the strokes of his pen and his words are the passion in our story.

  Kneeling in front of me, between my legs, his hands find my waist, his smile triumphant.

  Pulling my body closer to the edge, his mouth falls to the skin just above my bra. So soft, his lips nip and bite, producing moans from my mouth. Trailing a hot path from my chest to my neck, my head falls back.

  “August,” I say again, sounding breathy.

  With precise thought, his right hand starts at my ankle, moves up my calf to my knee and stops at my thigh.

  “Hush,” I hear him say as his hand snakes closer to my middle. He hisses when he figures out my secret.

  I hadn’t known we’d do this today. I’d run before my shift this morning and forgot to bring extra underwear. By the lack of air escaping his nose and his stiff hand against my thigh, I’d guess he figured it out.

  His hand proceeds farther north and his mouth finds my ear. “Jesus Christ, Belle.”

  I buck closer to him, but he taunts me, pulling away entirely with a sly smile on his face.

  He tugs off his glasses and sets them on the bedside table and then grabs mine, slowly yanking them off my face. How something so insignificant could be so erotic, I don’t know but damn.

  Coming back to me, August sets his hand on the nape of my neck and kisses my lips so fiercely I think they might fall off. Burn off. When he pulls back, his hands move to the buttons on my shirt. One by one, he sets them free, showcasing my skin underneath.

  He breathes in deep and I feel my head fall back when his calloused and rugged hand meets my chest.

  “The bourbon,” he says in a husky tone, “the bourbon was strong, Belle, but you, you are far more invigorating.” He slides the cream-colored shirt off my shoulders, down my arms and tosses it on the floor next to my bed.

  I look up at him through my lashes, shuddering at his words. His touch.

  Next comes my bra, it falls with the rest of my clothes and before I know it, I’m exposed, wide open for August to see.

  With a heated look, he stands back and gazes upon my body. My skirt falls freely across my legs, my heels still on, and my naked stomach and chest call to him like a beacon.

  God, I hope he looks to me as a beacon.

  With a wide stance, August pops the buttons on his shirt, throwing it to the floor with my clothes, and next comes his pants. My eyes refuse to move away from his chest. His stomach. His almost-naked body, standing in front of me, I sigh. I’ve seen the boy, August. Young, not nearly grown. This August is a man. A man with taut muscles and defined frame. This man is an entirely new beast and God. I want to be ravished by him. Taken as his prisoner.

  His hands on the button of his jeans, he slides them down his legs, kicking them to the side. Palming himself with hazed eyes, he watches me. His teeth rage a war with his bottom lip, the look of lust pouring out of him with every grunt of his mouth.

  Standing there for mere seconds, thrusting himself into his hand, and I can’t think straight. I want to reach for myself. Touch my center, give him more to look at, turn him on – but I can’t. The sight of him, like this, is too much to take.

  Releasing himself, he makes his way toward me. Hunter and prey. I scoot back on the bed, my head lightly hitting the headboard.

  Allowing my legs to fall open, August stalks me, making his way to my middle. He hovers above me, his arms on both sides of my face, his eyes on mine.

  “I’ve thought about having you for years, Belle. Every so often, I’d allow myself time to fantasize about what it would be like to be inside you. Just one more time.” He takes a deep breath, producing the condom he has in his hand.

  I don’t know when he got that, but I stop him, taking the foil packet and setting it on the table along with our glasses. “I’m on the pill, August.” He stiffens and I shake my head. “Please.”

  His body shivers above me, his pupils dilating. “I’ve…” He clears his throat. “I’ve never been with a woman without one.”

  My heart surges at his admission.

  August’s dirty blonde hair falls into his eyes, and I push it back, tucking it behind his ear. It’s grown so much since he got here. Skirting my hand down his face to his lightly scuffed chin, my thumbs caress his speckled skin. “And I’ve never been with a guy without one.”

  He breathes a sigh of relief. “Not even once?”

  I shake my head, a smile creeping onto my face. I’d never even had the thought cross my mind until August came back into my life.

  The grin that spreads across his face is victorious – proud. He moves above me, grabbing the packet from the bedside table and tosses the foil into the trashcan by my desk, the material making a tiny whooshing sound as it hits the bag.

  I giggle.

  “I’ve missed that sound, you know?” August says, his hand falling to my hair, his fingers tangling in my tendrils.

  I feel the same.

  His stare turns intense, his effort precise, he lowers himself. Chills break out all over my body. Every inch of skin August touches feels on fire. When we meet for the first time, I cry out. His skin. My skin. Touching and rubbing. I didn’t know sex – God, this isn’t even sex, it’s foreplay – I didn’t know it could feel this good. I didn’t know I could feel so wild.

  August grasps himself, holding his member at my opening, teasing it with the crown. I moan, my hands fisting at my sides. Then I remember I don’t have to hold back. I can be who I am – who I want to be sexually – with him. I grab for his sides. His chest. My nails dig into his skin. Every pull, every tug, a foretelling of what’s to come.

  I relish in his torment. My head moves from side to side and I close my eyes, my teeth digging into my bottom lip. Pushing in just slightly, only to pull back out. I might go mad.

  Combustion by foreplay.

  Not a bad way to go.

  “Open yo
ur eyes, Belle,” August tells me and I do. He smiles, sliding himself into me completely.

  He stills inside me, fully to the hilt.

  “Fuck,” he groans, and I can’t remember the last time I had heard him say the word.

  I moan, my entire being electrified. My skin prickles, my senses heightened.

  Dropping his head to the crook of my neck, he flexes inside me. “You’re mine, Belle. Forever.” He pulls out and then slams deliciously back into me. “I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.” He crashes into me, over and over again and I meet him thrust for thrust.

  We’re breathing heavy now and August lifts his head. I’m finally able to get a good look at him. The setting sun spills into my window and he looks like a devilish angel, sent to show me unbearable paradise.

  Wrapping my ankles around his back, my hands grasp his sides. “Yes.”

  He pulls out and I can feel every rigid curve of him. With skill and determination, he grabs the back of my knee and sets my ankle on his shoulder, plunging deeper inside me. He kisses the soft skin of my ankle, nipping it with his teeth. With one hand tight around my ankle, his other hand finds my clit, rubbing slow, tenacious circles. I find myself running from my climax, not ready to be done.

  Pulling me closer, he drives me harder into the bed, his eyes never leaving mine. Like he finds solace in me – as I do him.

  His arms begin to shake and I can feel that inevitable end crawling up my toes, scratching up my back. Just as I’m about to explode, he pulls out, leaving me empty.

  My eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “Not yet, love.”

  He falls on the bed next to me and swoops me on top of him, our middles meeting instantly. I hum. “Take your sweet time.”

  He laughs but thrusts into me and I begin to rock against him, moving my hands to the top of the headboard.

  August pulls at my hips, slamming me harder against him.

  “Dammit,” August growls, jutting his hips to meet mine. Moving one of his hands from my hip, his fingers find my clit and before I know it, light bursts into my eyes, my climax so close.