“You don’t have to explain it, Maeve. You just have to tell me what you do and don’t want. Period. But also, have a little faith in me. We’ve spent enough time together for me to have a rough idea of what your boundaries are.”
“That’s the most fecking ridiculous thing about all this. I do trust you. I don’t know why but I just do.”
And suddenly I don’t care what comes next. I don’t care if we kiss or not. I don’t care if I never kiss Maeve O’Martin, although my whole body itches to do so. I just care that she trusts me. It’s the best gift I could ever imagine receiving.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Maeve
They’re staring at me like they’ve just discovered something new and fascinating about me. Or like maybe I’ve got a bogey hanging out of my nose. I lift my hand to my face and wipe, but it comes back clean.
“What?” I ask. “What is it?”
Loncey gives me a small, soft smile. “It’s you.”
I feel heat in my cheeks and my voice comes out like a croak. “What about me?”
“Nothing,” they say but their smile grows. “So, shall we?”
“Shall we what?” I ask, still preoccupied by trying to guess what they were just thinking about as they stared fixatedly on me.
Their fingers rub back and forth along the edge of my jaw.
“Shall we kiss?”
They want to do this. They want to kiss me. They want to kiss me and nothing else.
“Yes,” I whisper.
Loncey inches closer to me and brings their other hand up to cup the other side of my face. In their hold like this, I feel tension leave my body, like I’m surrendering to them holding me up.
I close my eyes and ever so slightly pucker my lips.
“Wait, Maeve,” they say gently. “First, I want to know where you’re comfortable with me touching you.”
They shouldn’t, but my shoulders sink with irritation. I don’t want to talk any more. I definitely don’t want to have to tell them all the places I don’t like to be touched. I don’t want to highlight how different I must be from the many other people Loncey has kissed before.
“Maeve.” Loncey’s voice has a warning edge. They can sense my reluctance.
“Fine,” I say grumpily. “No boobs, no genitals, maybe avoid my arse too.”
Loncey’s smile is one of amusement. “So can I touch your face? Your hair? Your arms? Your neck?”
“Yes,” I say and I shiver at the prospect. If they notice, they don’t comment on it. “And how about you?”
“How about me what?”
“Where can I touch you?”
Loncey looks surprised at being asked but they school their face quickly. “You can touch me wherever you want. Apart from my armpits.”
“I remember,” I smile at them.
“I’m glad,” they say before their eyes drop to my mouth and I don’t know why but it makes me laugh nervously.This is really going to happen.
And then I do what I always do when I’m anxious or nervous. I make a bad joke. “I mean, I wasn’t planning on tickling youunder your arms, or grabbing you between your legs, but I thought it was polite to ask.”
“It was… polite.”
