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Thoughts, smells, flickering lights, and words surrounded her like a dusty haze. The electricity bounced between their skin. The softness of the rain, now a light dance against the earth, combined with the fireplace’s heat and the glow of Mack’s skin, made Charlie’s heart palpitate.
What are we doing?
Mack lightly trailed a finger on Charlie’s arm, outlining the butterfly ink.
The surprising touch shot tingles to her toes.
“This is really pretty.” Mack’s thick honey tone slid into Charlie’s ears. “So many of your tattoos have wings. Butterfly wings, fairy wings…”
“Angels on my back. Apparently, I’m trying to take flight.” She meant to say it like a joke, but her voice constricted. “I love everything about wings. The airiness. The freedom. This feeling of safety like they’d wrap themselves around me and fly me away if needed.”
The space was too small. Charlie didn’t care that there wasn’t enough air for them to breathe. A warm, buttery sensation traveled up her as Mack traced Charlie’s tattoo with her fingertips. Charlie twisted her arm, and when the pads of Mack’s fingers grazed her inner wrist, her breath hitched.
“This one… is a favorite…” Heat blushed across Charlie’s cheek, and her heart pounded in her ears. Mack stopped when she reached the top of her arm and removed her touch. Charlie ached for it to return. A finger, hand, mouth, breath,anything.She wanted to feel Mack against her.
Her heartbeat pulsed everywhere, and Charlie was sure Mack could hear it over the melody of increased breathing. Mack inched a little closer and hovered her fingers over Charlie’s chest, avoiding the contact that Charlie’s body craved. She wanted to be touched but was scared.
“What about these?” Mack’s gentle hand swept the air in front of the roses and vines ink draped across her chest.
Charlie stopped breathing. Mack looked at her so intently that she was sure she could read into her soul.
“Tell me about these tattoos.”
“These… I thought were sexy,” Charlie said, even quieter.
“They’re very sexy.” Mack’s voice was husky now, her rasp layered like sugared cream.
Touch me.
Several excruciating moments passed. Charlie interpreted every heartbeat, the sighs’ decibels, and the rising chest frequency. They spoke no words but delivered messages. Charlie’s cells fired from the top of her scalp to the tips of her toes. Reaching up, she took Mack’s silky-smooth hand and gently guided her finger across her neck and chest to continue outlining.
Mack dropped her hand to the back of Charlie’s neck and pulled her in. The plushness of Mack’s lips pressed into Charlie’s, and she savored the minty honey taste. Mack moved her mouth, owning every bit of Charlie’s lips, and Charlie melted.
“Is this okay?” Mack whispered, pulled back, and darted her eyes between Charlie’s.
“Yes… is it okay for you?” Barely formulated words left her mouth.
Charlie cupped the side of Mack’s face and drew her closer, pushing her lips onto Mack’s. Everything burst. Was this a dream? The kisses, the moment, were surreal and beautiful, and she didn’t want the magic to disappear.
She opened her mouth and accepted Mack’s velvet tongue against hers. Their breaths intertwined. Gentle but firm hands glided down Charlie, and she drank in the sensation of skin on hers. Lingered touches left a path of tingles. Her goose bumps flattened against the warmth of Mack’s hand.
“Still okay?” Mack asked again, and Charlie mumbled out an affirmative.
Mack’s lips were everything Charlie thought they would be. Strong, firm kisses, brimming with purpose and desire. Mack captured Charlie’s mouth deeper, and Charlie liquefied. Her limbs turned to jelly, her brain to mush. Mack’s hand rested above Charlie’s neck, but her hand didn’t move any lower, and Charlie’s insides curled with longing.
Lips pressed against Charlie’s neck. A tongue swept across her collarbone, her earlobe, and back down. Mack murmured adorations. She was so close to Charlie’s heart, so close to satisfying the urge to be touched. She wanted Mack’s mouth on her. Everywhere. Her belly tightened with pressure, and her aching increased.
Charlie slid her arm under her head to reach for Mack.
And almost knocked them over.
“Oh no!” they both yelled in unison, and Charlie tumbled on top of Mack, who slammed her hand against the floor, forearm muscles protruding to keep them from falling out. The hammock swung bulky and twisted, and they each gripped the edge.
“Buzzkill.” Charlie laughed as they steadied.
“Got it? You good?” Mack asked, her cheeks pink and lips red. “I’m going to slide out.”
Charlie balanced herself as Mack slipped out, and Charlie rolled over. No sexy or graceful way existed to exit a hammock. She giggled as she plopped onto her knees to escape the twisted net right as the drier beeped.
