Page 59
“And the hole in the wall?”
“Maybe. In the autumn.” I come up behind Oscar, my dick digging into his muscled thigh. “Until then, I like the view.”
Oscar turns in my arms. “So do I.”
Given he has his back to the stars in the sky, I can only assume he means me. That his bare feet nudge mine on purpose and he likes how it feels to be naked and dry with me as much as he did wet in the shower.
I kiss him and subtle urgency blooms between us. Without clothes to slow us down, there’s nowhere to hide.
My bed is big and wide. Built for two even though I’ve always slept alone. The sheets smell of Moondust Farm. Of home, I guess, though what I’ve found here, in Porth Luck, is beginning to feel as much a part of me as the life I’ve already lived.
The farm.
Oscar.
His name whispers in my veins as we fall onto the bed and he pulls me over him, as he did the last time we were together like this.
The room grows warmer around us, the heat of the summer night seeping through the walls, despite the sea breeze filtering through the hole where the window should be. It’s like the ocean and the land are watching over us, and if everything about us didn’t already feel so utterly right, it does now.
We relearn each other.
Tipping me onto my side, Oscar slides one hand into my hair and the other grips my dick, his gaze fixed on mine, watching me as if he’s the one who can’t hear the rough groan that falls from my lips.
“You’re good at that.”
“At what?” He snatches a kiss. “Be specific. I like it.”
“You’re good with my dick.”
“I have one of my own.”
“Doesn’t count. Trust me.”
“I have heard this before.”
“From who?”
“Any number of my friends. Before you, I think I was the only one who did not sleep with men.”
Oscar hasn’t slept with me either, literally or otherwise, but a sense of change, of adventure and possibility, hangs thick in the air, and I sink into the thrill of it as I learn he could probably make me come in two minutes flat if I let him.
I don’t.
Not tonight.
I let him bring me to the brink. Then I ease back and absorb the arousal in his gaze. The curiosity. “What do you want?”
Oscar’s broad chest expands with a slow breath. “You is too simple an answer, no?”
“Maybe.”
He chuckles. I think. His hair has fallen into his face.
I brush it back.
His eyes darken. “Then show me something new.”
I don’t have to hear him to know he utters the words quietly. To see him to know he doesn’t blink as the words settle between us, trust wrapped in possibility.
