I nod. “Yeah.”
We walk out together, taking our time as my hand finds the small of her back again. She leans into it just enough that I feel her warmth through the thin cotton of her sundress.
Outside, the sky is clear, and the moon is full, spilling silver across the asphalt.
My truck is parked at the far edge of the lot, away from the lights. We make our way there, and I open the passenger door for her.
She climbs in, the hem of her dress riding up her thighs as she settles. I shut the door, circle around, and slide behind the wheel.
I don’t reach to press the button to start the engine, not yet.
Moonlight pours through the windshield, catching on the dashboard, the steering wheel, and her.
She’s already half-turned toward me with her leg tucked under her as moonlight slides across her cheekbones,pooling in the hollow of her throat, and turning her eyelashes into soft shadows.
Her lips are still a little swollen from how she kept biting them during the quiet scenes. Her hair is messy from how she kept pushing it behind her ear every time, a nervous cue I’ve come to love.
I can’t look away.
She catches me staring, of course she does.
“What is it?” she asks, her voice soft and teasing, but there’s a tremor beneath it as she lifts her eyebrow.
“Nothing,” I lie.
“Bullshit.” She tilts her head, moonlight slipping down the side of her neck. “What’s going on in there?” She taps her temple, then points at mine.
I let out a breath that’s more shudder than exhale. “You really want to know?”
“Yeah.” Her voice drops. “I really do.”
I reach over to her as my fingers find the side of her face, and my thumb brushes the corner of her lips.
Her breath seizes as her eyes flutter half-closed.
I lean in, and our mouths meet like we’ve done it a thousand times, because with her, everything feels so familiar. With her, I feel complete. With her, I feel like we’re on the same frequency, and fuck, I can’t get enough.
My heart beats with hers, always hers.
She opens for me immediately, tasting of buttered popcorn, cherry ChapStick, and want.
I groan low in my throat; the sound vibrates between us, and she answers with a small, broken whimper that goes straight through me.
My other hand slides to the back of her neck, as my fingers thread through her hair, tilting her head so I can take more.
I pull back just enough to breathe as I press my forehead to hers, our noses brushing.
Our lips are so close I can feel every shaky exhale we both take.
“I don’t want you to go.” I rasp.
Her fingers curl into my shirt, right over my heart. “Then, keep kissing me.”
I kiss her again, harder, more desperate.
She makes a needy little sound and climbs halfway into my lap without breaking contact, as her knee is braced on the seat between my thighs.
Her hands slide up my chest, as her nails scrape lightly through my flannel, then into my hair, tugging just enough to make my scalp sting.
