Page 50 of Chasing Clouds

“Yes, but you can tell me again,” I tease, leaning forward and enveloping myself in the heat his body is giving off.

His mouth twitches with a small smile as one hand slides around me and settles on my skin, just above the tiny zipper of my dress, and the other splays out underneath my shoulder blades. His hands are so large and so warm, goose bumps break out as pressure from his fingers draws me even closer. He bends down, placing his mouth next to my ear.

“I have never seen anyone more beautiful than you. You take my breath away.”

With that I exhale, stop breathing, and mumble, “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He smiles as the music from inside changes to a slower song, and unhurriedly, Reid begins to sway, taking the lead. As he rests his head next to my cheek, the stubble accumulated over the course of the long day grazes my skin, one of his thighs moves between mine, and I feel completely consumed by him. Up and down his hands roam on my back, slipping under the edges of my dress. I’m shaking. Can he feel me shaking? Because I sure do.

“Are you going to kiss me?” I ask, moving my head so my mouth flutters against his jaw.

Pulling back a little, his lids lower over his eyes as they slowly drag down my face to my lips. “Do you want me to?” His voice is rough; it sounds like every dream come true.

I nod. “Yes.” If he doesn’t kiss me soon, I just might combust and die.

Every kiss we’ve shared up until this point has had a purpose. At the wedding, all the ones at the reception, even the one in the library, and earlier tonight—they were meant to help make this appear real. They were meant to calm us and communicate that we’re in this together, and they were from one friend to another. This, however—this kiss is about to be something entirely different.

Drawing his hands away from my back, he runs them up my sides, over my collarbone, and up my neck to wrap around my head. He leans forward, and I arch back to look into his eyes—eyes filled with a yearning so close to my own, it feels tangible. He’s so close, and with every breath he lets go, I breathe it in. We both breathe faster.

Back and forth, his eyes bounce between mine, and then they drop to my lips. My tongue slips out and wets the bottom one; his does the same. God, his mouth is so perfect.

Drifting forward, his lips land on the corner of mine, and my eyes slip shut.

One kiss on the left, one on the right, and then one fully in the middle. With a sigh of relief, my lips part, and our mouths fuse together like two pieces of a puzzle. I love his lips. I love how they feel against mine and how they know exactly what to do. He leads the way, and I follow. I would follow him anywhere.

Eventually, I make a move to lightly bite down on the fullest part of his bottom lip, and he growls, bends me backward, and finally takes what he wants.

The stars are shining out past the balcony, the music is playing directly to my heart, and Reid is annihilating all of my senses: his size, his smell, his touch, his sounds, and oh, his taste—so delicious. Over and over his tongue dips in and tangles with mine. I feel devoured and whole, wrecked and cherished. I feel wanted by this man, and that’s the best feeling of all.

Rising up on my toes, I wrap my arms around his shoulders and flatten myself against him. He drops one arm, wraps it around my back, and pulls me up higher. We separate to breathe, but his eyes are locked in on mine.

“Stay with me tonight.” His voice is so hoarse, the sound brushes over places deep within me, and I shiver.

“Okay.” There’s nothing in this world that could keep me away from him.

He smiles then leans forward, sucks my lip in between his, and picks up right where he left off.

THIS IS THE second time I’ve woken up next to Reid, but today things feel entirely different. His bed is large, the sheets are so soft I feel like I’m sliding against butter, and everything is warm. I can’t help but smile to myself.

Opening my eyes, I see I’m facing him and he’s dead asleep. The muscles in his face are relaxed, leaving his skin smooth except for the now day-old stubble across his jaw and cheeks, and his lips are slightly open.

Sure, I’ve looked at him a lot over the last two weeks, but never like this. I’m in his space, and I feel giddy and lucky that I get to see him this way.

Last night, as we finally made our way into his room, my dress landed on the floor next to his shirt and his pants, and I felt what it was like to truly want another person.

Reid groaned as I stood before him in a white lace demi bra and a white lace thong. After his eyes devoured me, his hands grabbed ahold of my butt, pulling me flush against him in his boxer briefs as his mouth took over. He ran his hands all over me, exploring me, feeling me, and as much as I wanted his fingers to find every secret place of mine, he maintained his restraint, though mine was rapidly breaking down.

Of course I could tell he was just a little bit more than excited, but that didn’t stop me from making out with him, nor him with me. We climbed into his bed and he kissed me for hours.

It was glorious.

Last weekend, before we went to the festival, he took me to the coffee shop across the street. He ordered a plain almond milk latte and Cuban bread toasted with butter, so, deciding to surprise him with a break from eggs and vegetables, I slip out of bed and off to my room to get dressed. Instead of grabbing socially acceptable society attire, I pull on a pair of cutoff denim shorts that have stains on them from my workshop, a T-shirt, and some flip-flops. I pull my hair into a knot, grab my sunglasses, and sneak out the door.

The weather outside is absolutely gorgeous. Immediately, my eyes look at the sky. There are no clouds, just an immaculate shade of blue, not that I want to chase them today—I’m perfectly content and happy right where I am. Spring comes earlier and lasts a little longer here than it does in Savannah, and as I take in the bright blue skies, the river, and the surrounding buildings, I can’t help but think I could live here permanently.

Traffic is light as I run across the street and into the coffee shop. It’s a local place, not part of a large chain, and all week I’ve been stopping in for their orange cold brew and biscuits. They are delicious.

“Morning, Camille,” says the barista behind the counter. She’s smiling from ear to ear and my mood elevates even more.