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“What’s going on between us?” I ask.
Oz shakes his head slowly. “I don’t know.”
“I like you,” I admit. More than like. Whenever I look at Oz it’s butterflies and tingles and it’s not just the fantasy of him kissing me that sends me into a tailspin. It’s the idea of him in general. I do like him. Enough that it feels an awful lot like I’m falling, too.
“I like you so much that I’m...” Terrified. Falling means scary things. Unknown things. And I don’t like scary or the unknown. “I’m not supposed to be falling for you.”
“Since the moment you walked into my life, I’ve wanted to crawl into your head and know what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling. You scare the hell out of me, and if your father knew how you constantly cross my mind, how badly I want to kiss you, he’d put a bullet in my brain.”
I shiver as Oz traces my lips. “Who are you referring to? Eli or my dad?”
Oz’s face lights up with his grin. “Both of them. I’ve seen Jeff around you and he looks capable of pulling the trigger. I’ve learned to never discount the ones wearing a tie. They’re the ones that scare the shit out of me.”
I laugh and Oz laughs with me. The bed shakes and the vibration shifts our bodies closer together. So much so that my breasts are flush against his chest, my toes nudge his and his thighs lie over mine. When the sound fades our eyes meet and the smiles vanish.
Our chests move in unison. My pulse thunders in my ears as it silently begs over and over again for Oz to kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.
Oz drops his hand from my face. I grab it, hating the cold left behind. “Don’t.”
“You’re tired,” he says. “And we’re playing a dangerous game.”
But it’s a game I don’t want to stop playing. A gust of wind hits the trailer and the walls surrounding us creak. I weave my fingers through his. “Please stay.”
There’s a quaver to my voice. Being this near Oz makes me nervous. The thought of his lips on mine, his hands on my body, a return to the rhythm we had so quickly found when we kissed weeks ago is enough to cause me to tremble.
That day, we had grown into an inferno with a good reason to dampen the flames. But here, we’re alone and there would be nothing to prevent us from going further, searching for the more my body desires. I care for Oz. Oz cares for me, but is that enough to cushion the fall I’ll take if we succumb to the heightening attraction?
“You’re tired, Emily, and I want to kiss you until you breathe out my name, but there’s nothing good that will come out of this.”
Oz is right. I’m so tired I’m fuzzy; so filled with a need to kiss him I’m light-headed. But that isn’t the only reason I want him to stay.
The wind hits the trailer again and the roar of the trees sends a chill down my spine. At least at Olivia’s there was a huge open space between the cabin and the forest. But here, we’re in the thick of it. The dark enclosing us like a casket. “Just stay.”
“Emily,” Oz warns, but he doesn’t leave. Instead, he releases my hand and rewraps his arm around my waist. “Eli will kill me and I’ll lose any chance at prospect.”
As if we’ve been extremely intimate before, as if we’ve been together forever, Oz extends an arm under my head. He then wastes no time inching up the material of my shirt until he can rest his palm against my skin. I melt under the heat from his hand.
He’s right, I’m being selfish, but I don’t push him away. Instead, I lick my lips. Oz settles his head on the pillow and our faces are close. Extremely close. So close that his exhalations move random pieces of my hair.
“You’re right. You should go,” I say.
“I will,” he responds.
“Okay.”
“All right.”
“Good night, Oz,” I whisper.
His fingers begin this slow brush along my stomach. Each goose bump–inducing glide edges farther up a centimeter and then down with each cycle. My breathing hitches when Oz skims the bottom seam of my bra.
“Good night,” he says against my mouth.
“Good night,” I repeat, and as I say it, my lips touch his. Energy builds between us and my legs become restless with this pent-up urge for more.
Oz takes in my lower lip and I’m overwhelmed with this sensation of awareness, this realization of each and every nerve ending I possess. Oz’s hand, which had trailed south, tightens on my hip.
His lips pause on mine. He’s waiting on me. I want this. No, I crave this. I brush my mouth against his and the movement is so slight he could miss it. So delicate because I’m afraid if I do too much then the two of us will explode.
