A hummingbird.
“That’s what I thought you looked like—last night when I saw you flitting around with that bird song on your lips,” he says, and my face grows hot. “Guess I’ll have to keep sugary things around to lure you back to me.”
“I’ve heard Splenda’s a decent alternative.” I laugh.
We exchange glances, giggle, and all the feelings I had when I was working on my songs sit at the base of my throat, wanting to rush to his ears.
I glance at my keyboard and decide a second date serenade is probably a red flag.
At home, I’d suggest putting on a movie. With no TV, there’s nothing to distract me from the earthy smell of spring water on his skin. Nothing to distract from the weight of his gaze on mine. The rain calms to a drizzle, and the sound of cicadas picks up—a loud, rhythmic static.
“Do you think they know any covers?” I ask as the insects’ song grows even louder, nodding my head toward the sound. Tension builds between us as we sit, our thighs touching on the old couch. We’ve kissed. We could kiss again…
“I think they’re more of an experimental jazz type of group. You know, where each song tends to sound the same.” His reply is slow and thoughtful, and God, I really like this guy.
We laugh, and just like that, the conversation begins to flow between us. His laugh is funny—loud and unashamed, and each time he throws his head back with shaking shoulders. I fixate on his animated movements and the way he gets loud when he speaks about something that interests him. It makes me wonder if Gil has ever been made to feel small. I hope not.
As the hours rush by and my eyes become heavy, he says the dreaded words.
“It’s getting late.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, but we’re somehow closer. His clothes hang on the same line as the pages of my journal, and I wonder if it’s some kind of cosmic sign: my past and future strung together. His eyelids flutter as we drift closer, pulled by a want I’m hopeless to surrender to.
We’re on each other in moments.
The mood is electric, like two shaken soda bottles ready to explode. His gentle grip is at the base of my neck where my skin is the worst. I gasp, quickly moving his hand to my shoulder, where his fingers stay for only a moment before gliding down to my waist.
The strap of my sundress has fallen off my shoulder, and Gil wastes no time covering the newly exposed skin in kisses. Summer rain patters softly on the windows, and when thunder booms and crashes, the safest place to go is farther into his arms.
“Marina.” The whisper of my name calms me, like cool waves on warm sand. There’s no more distance between us, our bodies flush, and the silky pieces of fabric wrinkles to the friction of our movements.
His knee glides between my thighs, and I swallow hard, deepening our kiss that grows more dangerous by the second.
I barely know this guy.
Still, the crash of emotions runs through my body all at the same time. I’m desperate and want more—of his warm touch, his soft lips.
We fall back on the worn leather couch, my body straddling his. He blinks up at me, his strange yellow eyes molten and filled with something I’ve only seen in movies. The ache of another M + G being carved into my heart is dizzying.
He wants me.
I want him.
And God, I need—
His body moves on top of mine, and I rock my hips to meet the thin fabric of that silk robe which isn’t doing much to hide our desire. Fuck, I’ve only known him for a day, and I’m not sure that it matters.
I’m not sure anything matters right now.
My fingers slide across his thighs, eager—too eager—to heighten the sensation. Want muddles my senses until all I can think about is what his voice would sound like moaning my name.
“Marina.”
He already says it like a song, but the desire to hear him scream it builds touch by touch.
My dress rides up past my thighs, and my bare skin slides across his. The sensation is delightfully smooth, like covering myself in aloe and slipping into slick sheets. The feeling is so perfect and new I let out a moan, clinging to Gil with wild abandon. I try to thread my fingers between his and he pulls away, leaving me with a sharp, jagged breath.
“Wait—” he says, and I gulp.
