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Now it’s my words that float around, a comforting silence, but the charge in the air between us sends sparks throughout my body.
“You want a beer?” I ask, my voice shaky, and I swallow back the lump that has formed in my throat.
“Yeah, that’d be great.”
When I step out the door, Jack’s beer in hand, he takes it from me, setting it down on the small table between the two chairs.
“Dance with me?” he asks, his hands sliding over my hips as Miranda Lambert’s “Vice” starts playing in the background.
I don’t say yes, I just lean into him, my arm wrapping around his neck, my fingers threading into his as we sway to the music slowly.
Jack’s lips are next to my ear; his warm breath causes goose bumps to raise up on my skin and when he begins to whisper the lyrics I nearly melt in his arms.
“Another vice, another town. Where my past can't run me down…”
My lips brush his neck, and my body is wired with want and need and nervousness. I can feel my heart racing in my chest, slamming hard and fast against my ribs. I wonder if Jack feels it. I wonder if he’s having the same response.
I’m trembling despite the warm evening; my hand shakes in his and he tightens his grip.
And when the song ends, neither of us moves.
Chapter Eleven
Jack
My heart is pounding.
Pounding hard against my ribcage, against her as she stands in my arms, her body against mine.
My eyes close as her lips brush against my neck, her breath warm against my skin. My hand at the small of her back tightens, urging her closer, our bodies fitting together so easily it’s as though they were always meant to.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve thought about doing this. Since I came back here, since I was a kid, all the years in between.
Time and distance haven’t changed how much I want her, they’ve magnified it and fuck me, I want her so bad right now.
“Lu,” I whisper against her ear just as a new song starts playing, the music masking the hard beat of my heart.
She lifts her head and my hand slides up her spine, cupping the back of her neck as she stares up at me, our eyes locked together in the darkness of her front porch.
She swallows hard and I feel the movement of her throat, watch as she licks her lips, not moving closer, but not pulling away either.
Our other hands are still linked and I lift them to my mouth, my eyes never leaving hers as I press a kiss to her knuckles. She whimpers at the touch and my knees nearly give way at the sound. As I realize this is it.
This is the moment I’ve been dreaming about since I walked into her kitchen a week ago and saw her for the first time in fourteen years. Since I walked away from her all those years ago.
This is fucking it.
I let go of her hand now, sliding my arm around her waist and pulling her closer. Her hand falls to my chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of my t-shirt as she holds onto me, her other hand still around my neck. Her thumb brushes against my skin, sending a jolt of electricity straight down my spine.
The air hums between us, charged with so much intensity and heat, that it’s almost unbearable, the tension wound so tight that it’s almost impossible to resist.
And then I stop trying.
Lowering my head, I gently touch my lips to hers, the low moan she lets out nearly undoing me. Her lips part and I press my mouth harder as I slowly slide my tongue against hers, both of us groaning now.
I feel her hand at the back of my neck pulling me closer, her tongue as it slips into my mouth, teasing me, tasting. My body feels wired, loaded with an energy that’s all lust and heat and want.
Desire for her.
