Page 71 of A Love Like Candle Light

“Boo.” I pout. “Wait, are you calling me heavy?”

He freezes, eyes widening in panic. “Er, no, I-“

“I’m kidding.” I giggle, even more so when relief washes over his face. “Couldn’t pass up the opportunity to make you sweat a little. What a shame though, I could get used to this.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. However, can I make it up to you?”

I tap my finger against my lower lip and shoot him a wink. He stops in front of his bed and leans in until his smile meets mine.

I adore kissing him. The languid, unhurried way his tongue moves against mine. The way his breath feathers over my cheek and how he grins into the kiss when I let out a happy sigh. And I adore the damned dimples that appear in his cheeks when he smiles, ever so slightly concealed by his scruff. But I know they’re there.

He’s perfect. Too perfect. All of a sudden, my breath gets stuck in my throat. What is he doing with someone unperfect like me?

This is not the time, Kylie. I force myself to take a deep breath, inhaling his comforting scent and bury my doubts, push them back into a chest in the darkest corner of my mind. I will not succumb to doubts I will realize are idiotic after a good night’s sleep, not right now. I’m enjoying this moment, this kiss, way too much to let my own mind ruin it.

“Is everything okay?” Erik mumbles against my lips, worry lacing his question.

My eyes flutter open and I meet his pale green stare.

“Yeah,” I breathe and run my fingers through his soft hair, my eyes darting from his to his lips. “Everything is peachy.”

Then I put my hand on his shoulder for leverage and lift myself up, still in his arms, until I can capture his lips. He gives me a doubtful look but then the crease between his eyebrows smoothens and when he melts into the kiss, I close my eyes again.

The kiss is stealing my breath away. If I were standing, my knees would definitely buckle. Carefully, he sets me down on his soft mattress. I bounce off it slightly, but he’s right there, pressing me back into it with his broad body.

His hands wander down my thighs, and I can’t help but shiver at the way his fingers dig into my flesh. Once he’s reached the back of my knees, he hooks my legs around his hips, then snakes his arms between the small of my back and the mattress, pulls me flush to him and moves us up the bed, until my head is on his pillow.

I’m in paradise right here, pressed between his firm body and the soft mattress. Seriously, I could stay here forever.

Everything smells of him. The blanket I’m lying on. The pillow under my head. Him above me. Fuck. I could drown in his scent, and I’d be dying with a smile.

He’s all I taste, all I smell, all I feel and I’ve never felt safer, yet also never more on edge.

Breathe, Kylie.

His hands cup my face so tenderly, thumbs stroking a gentle pattern on my cheeks and suddenly my throat closes up with emotions. I hate it.

Within the blink of an eye, I am, dancing on the edge between happiness and an ocean of doubt.

He breaks the kiss, oblivious to the fight happening inside me. I suck in a sharp breath while his lips trail a path down my throat. His hand dances under my shirt, fingertips tracing a feather-soft path up my sides.

My heart can’t decide what to feel. Excitement and infatuation are battling against self-doubt and overwhelm and no side is winning.

Once upon a time, I was used to feeling loved like this. Before the abandonment, before spending countless evenings wondering if I was the reason Zach spent so much time at work. And even now, even though I closed this chapter of my life, a weird emptiness haunts me - just when I thought I left my only ghost at home.

“Hey. Kylie, look at me.” Erik stops. His fingertips land on my chin and turn my head until I look at him, finding a worried frown. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, I…” I swallow thickly and can’t quite meet his eyes anymore. “It’s just…” I clear my throat. “It has been a while. I’m kind of… nervous?” The last word comes out in a squeak.

He swipes a strand of my hair out of my face, and the tenderness in his touch almost makes me burst into tears. “Don’t lie to me, Kylie.”

“I’m not.” I finally meet his gaze. If I take all the lingering doubts in my head and condense them into a sentence, this is what it comes down to. “I really haven’t done this in a while.”

He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t pry. Instead, he keeps my eyes locked with his, with such intensity in his, it makes me squirm. Usually, I have no problem sitting out silence and letting it linger until the other person feels the need to fill it. Silent treatment used to be my mother’s favorite form of punishment when I was in my teens. But before my brain has even caught up to them, words tumble out of my mouth.

“I’m not used to this.” My fingers find the hem of his shirt and twiddle with it. The cotton between my fingertips is grounding as I’m trying to come up with a way to explain what’s going on in my brain.

“What exactly?”