AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Not as much these days,” Oz says quietly, which almost makes me want to cry in frustration. Why do there have to be so many reasons for us not to see each other? Why can’t there be just one coincidence, one excuse, that means we can?
The only way I might see him again, ever, at this rate is if I do decide to stay here in London and study. And I shouldn’t make that decision based only on him. I know I shouldn’t. This is about my life, my future career.
But…
“Come over and lay down,” Oz says, gently nudging me towards his couch. “You need some proper work here. You’re so full of tension.”
He doesn’t know the half of it.
“Okay,” I murmur weakly, allowing him to guide me over. I lay down on my front, pillowing my head on my arms in front of me, trying to forget about all the negativity. We’re here together, right now. That’s all that should matter. I need to live in this moment, to enjoy it to the fullest.
I close my eyes as his hands land on my back again and try to shut out everything else until it’s just the two of us floating above the city high up and far away from all of my worries.
Chapter Eighteen
Oz
I run my hands over Gabby’s back, feeling a bit of frustration. There’s just so much fabric in the way. Too much. The dress she’s wearing today is pretty if a little plain – it definitely doesn’t stand up next to the clothes I bought her earlier.
But the main problem I have with it is that it’s on her. Covering her. Stopping my hands from making contact with her skin.
“You know,” I say, my voice low and intimate given how close we are together. I nip at the back of her neck with my lips, making her shudder. “It would be easier to massage you if I could get my hands on your skin.”
“Then,” Gabby says, and I swear my mouth almost waters in anticipation. “Why don’t you put your hands on my skin?”
It takes only a moment for those words to sink in with their full deliciousness, and then I’m tugging at her lightly.
“Sit up,” I say, the words coming out a growl, so eager to have her in front of me. She sits, but the fabric of her dress is still caught under her; she must understand because she gets to her feet with her back to me. I stand, and now there’s barely anything between us, only the smallest breath of air and the fabric of that damn dress.
I reach for her shoulders, running my hands and thumbs over them again while she stands in front of me. The straps of her dress sit on those shoulders, and I skim my fingers under them to slip them down, down, over her arms. Even just the sight of her bare neck is enough to turn me on, especially knowing what comes next. I kiss and nuzzle her skin, the massage almost just a pretense now, an excuse to get my hands on her.
And by the way, her muscles loosen under my touch right anyway, turning to jelly, I don’t think she’s going to complain.
I slide my hands down, letting the straps drop completely from her shoulders. The dress stays up on its own, buoyed by resistance, and balanced on her chest until I grasp the zip at the back and pull it slowly down. It unpeels from her like the skin of an orange, then drops to the floor when I let go, pooling perfectly around her feet.
She gasps lightly as it drops, and I begin to sweep my hand’s palm down across her back, gently massaging each muscle I can find. I lean down to kiss the back of her neck and across her shoulders, and she allows me without resistance, standing still and only gasping and shivering in response to my touches. I’m finely tuned to her, interpreting every motion, every sound, memorizing them. Understanding which parts of her skin are the most sensitive, which will make her cry out, which will make her turn to liquid in my hands.
I work my way along her arms one at a time, kissing her skin, raising goosebumps as my fingers ghost across, finding those sensitive muscle points, and massaging them just so until she gasps and moans. Then down, over her back again, my hands skimming over her sides and around her front to touch her stomach, to glide, to worship every inch of her as my mouth continues its work along her sensitive neck and behind her ears.
Her blonde hair tickles my chest as she sways lightly on her feet, my hands on her front holding her close to me. I realize I’m wearing too many clothes still and strip off my shirt to feel her skin properly, to feel all of her against me. Her skin is hot against mine, and when I lift my hands to glide over the cups of her bra I feel the shudder of desire that moves through her body at the contact.
