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“You want me to look at you, I’m looking at you. You keep saying you’re not fragile, like you’re trying to convince yourself, but you know it. I know it.” Her eyes are as wide as saucers as she stares up at me.
Lust. That other thing in her eyes is lust.
And before I can overthink what I’ve just said, how fucking sappy it sounded, I crush my lips down to hers in a hard kiss, something I’ve been thinking about since that day in the office at The Pine.
Chapter 15
Fitz
IpoureverythingIhaven’t said, everything I want to say, into that kiss, as my free hand wraps around her waist and pulls her closer to me. She lets out a squeak of surprise and I smile against her mouth, trying not to let the ache I’m feeling take over entirely.
Her hands land in my hair, holding me tight against her as her mouth moves over mine, hungry, like she’d been waiting for this as long as I have.
It’s everything I hoped it would be, and so much more, as I finally pull back, my chest heaving, my heart thumping wildly.
“You fucking terrified me last week,” I breathe out, and lean my forehead against hers, closing my eyes and trying to relish in the feeling of her body still pressed into mine. Her hands wander down, over my arms, and touch them almost reassuringly. “I was so worried that just when I was getting to know you, I’d lost you. I feel like I’m just scratching the surface of what I missed a decade ago.”
And as the words come out of my mouth, low and raw in a way I haven’t been for a long time, I realize how true they are. That the panic I’d felt was fear - fear of the idea that I’d just about resigned myself to even considering the possibility of something more, only to have it ripped away.
Piper’s quiet for a moment, still breathing deeply, before I feel her sigh against me.
“Not fragile,” she repeats, and my chest rumbles in disagreement with the phrase. She laughs, tilting her head back to look at me, and her gentle hand swipes at what I’m sure is a stray curl falling into my face. I need a haircut. “I’m too hard-headed to let something like a little fly ball take me out.”
“Hard headed, you say?” I let go of her neck, my hand finding the line of her jaw and moving my thumb across her lip, now swollen and red. The sight takes my mind to places I’m not sure I can commit to, not in this moment. “Well, that might be a problem.” She tilts her head, still smiling. “I think anyone who knows me well would agree that being hard-headed is one of my top-five strengths.”
She doesn’t miss a beat.
“So what you’re saying is that we’ll make quite the pair?” I can’t help the grin across my face as I lean down and press another, more gentle kiss on her lips. “What are your other strengths?” she asks coyly, and I press my lips together. I don’t know if I have the willpower to keep myself from doing all the things with her that I want to - not if she keeps talking like that.
“Well,” I start, and then, with one gentle push, she falls back into her pillows with a huff, clearly not interested in putting up much of a fight. Bex jumps off the bed at the sudden movement. Piper’s hair is splayed out behind her, wild curls everywhere, her sweatshirt riding up. I crawl on top of her, surprising even myself.
Like her words, her orders to drop my mask, snapped something in me. Like saying what she needed from me gave me permission to let down some of my walls.
“I’ve been told I’m quite…strategic,” I say, and then plant a leg on either side of hers, leaning down to kiss her again, savoring it. She lets out a musical laugh, her hand finding its way into my hair again.
“Tell me how that works for you,” she asks, and I brace myself on either side of her head, questioning. “I want to get inside your head. Past this.” Her free hand strokes my cheek, and I lean into it momentarily.
“Are you sure about that?” I dip down, so my mouth is right next to her ear. “It’s not a pleasant place.” She shudders below me, and I’m pretty sure all pretense of hiding my growing erection goes right out the window.
“I don’t believe that for a second,” she breathes as I push myself back up to look at her. Her face is resigned, determined again, so I relent.
“I’m strategic about what I want, how I want to do it. I like plans and paths to make things happen.” I lean down, kissing her deep again. “I’m consistent, though I think that one is faltering lately.” She smiles up at me lazily, understanding that I mean breaking my consistency with her.
“I think my team would say I’m an activator.”
“Team,” she repeats, and I don’t press on as I go to continue. But, before I can say anything else, she hooks her legs up and pulls me to the side by my shirt. I nearly flail off the bed, and with a laugh she lands on top of me.
“That was, uh…” I look up at her, her grinning face, wild hair. “Impressive.”
“Go on,” she soothes, and runs a finger down the line of my chest. “Activator, you were saying.” I clear my throat.
“Yeah, uhm, activator.” I swallow. “I know what motivates people, and can use that to push them to succeed.”
“Must make you a great boss,” she mutters, and then leans over, hair falling around us as she kisses me deeply, her hips moving at just the right angle to make me go rock hard. When she sits back up, she’s chuckling.
“I’m responsible,” I choke out, though I feel far from responsible in this moment, with a recently concussed woman straddling me, doing things that can’t be good for her healing process.
“I know that one.” She pulls her hair to one side, sitting back to watch me. “You’ve always been responsible, since we were kids.” I stare up at her, and feel the urge to ask her how much she remembers from when we were kids - long before we both became a sliver of the people we are today - but decide against it. “And five?” she asks.
