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He pushes me forward, the hand on my neck coming around to cup my throat and jaw as he angles our mouths together. “This is me wanting to know you, Blair. This is me caring about you and craving you in ways foreign and terrifying to me. But I’m okay with them. I want them. Because they want you.”
My heart skips and pounds and clenches all at the same time, and I slide my hands up his back urgently until I grip into his caramel colored locks and hold him to me with all the strength I possess. From the moment I found out Atlas was A, I was gone for him. This man I’d secretly projected all of my hidden romantic desires on is the one person I should have been the most guarded against falling for.
But he’s shown up. Over and over. He’s been here for the trouble and pain and heartache that I hide so far down there are jagged pieces of my corroded soul broken apart inside me.
We kiss until my lungs ache. Until Atlas whimpers and pants into my mouth. Until several songs have played and our bodies start moving on their own. It’s slow and slightly erotic, skin touching skin but not enough. I lean away only long enough to tear Atlas’ tee from his shoulders and press back in to run my hands over his bare chest and drag my lips along his jaw.
“Is this our first date?” I ask, sucking a bruise on one of the tight cords in his neck.
Atlas gasps, drops his head back and brings both hands up to undo the braid holding my hair back. The strands fall around my shoulders, and he buries his hands in them with a gentle firmness that melts me from the inside.
“Do you want it to be?”
I nod because I don’t know how else to express the desire swirling within me.
“I want you naked,” I say, our bodies plastered together from the sweat of dancing and the natural muggy air this time of year.
Atlas stills, his grip loosening to a barely there pressure that I instantly pull away from to see the panic in his eyes.
“Fuck.” The heat of the moment is still burning alive beneath my skin, but I can see the steam rolling off Atlas in waves from the ice bath my words caused. “Shit. I don’t mean sex. I told you I’d never push that on you.”
He smiles halfheartedly and rocks back on his heels, a tiny current of space opening between us. “It’s not you,” he says softly, then chuckles under his breath. “I mean it is, but not like that. I want you naked, too. I want to roll around in the dirt and learn every curve of your body, teach you mine.”
His chest is heaving, and his eyes are burning into mine. I can feel the invisible string pulling taut between us, begging us to come together or break apart because there’s only so many times you can tug before it snaps. Does he feel it too? Does this feel like a pivotal moment for him like my head screams it is for me?
“You take the lead.” I graze my fingertips over his sides, and he doesn’t flinch, but I see the way his chest expands with a deep inhale. “This isn’t sex. It’s an exploration. My body can be your diagram to another man’s pleasure.”
Atlas’ lips form half a smile, his hand closing over mine where they rest on his hips. He pushes my thumbs past the waistband of his jeans, then flicks open the button and rolls down the zipper. His expectant looks makes my breath catch, and I push the material down his thighs, nearly kneeling as I pool them around his ankles.
I wrap my hands around his hairy calves, slowly sliding up to the backs of his thighs which quiver beneath the touch. I graze the legs of his boxers, and he swallows hard, a rough jerk of his head that has me abandoning the path to stand and press my palms to his cheeks.
He breathes deeply, slowly, eyes closed. His hands slip under the material of my shirt, bunching it up as he rides it higher on my chest until I let him pull it off and toss it in the direction of his own shirt. Hazel eyes flutter open as fingertips brush the rose stem and falling petals on my chest.
“What about this one?”
My skin feels more alive under Atlas’ touch than when the needle marked me. The light pressure burns more than the color inked onto my body. Pain I know what to do with. Pain I can grit and bear. But this almost reverent carefulness overloads my system, my already warm and tacky skin heating further.
“Everything perfect still falls apart,” I whisper as his fingers make my voice quake. “Even the most beautiful things won’t stay that way forever.”
“That’s pessimistic.”
“It’s true.”
I’m pulled into Atlas’ chest, his lips inches from mine. “You feel it, Blair. I know you do. You want this as bad as I do.”
“It’s easier if you’re using me,” I breathe. “When it breaks, maybe it won’t hurt so much.”
He doesn’t kiss me. Doesn’t so much as touch me. Just kicks off his shoes and pulls his legs free of his pants. He steps away, and I’m left feeling flayed, like something inside of me was forcibly opened and left to fester.
“Let’s cool down,” he says softly, and I fold my arms over my chest to hide how exposed I feel. “I mean literally.” He jerks his thumb behind him. “Give me five minutes.”
He disappears back towards the truck, and I close my eyes on a deep breath. I get carried away when Atlas and I are alone. I crave every ounce of his attention, and it never feels like it’s enough. Noah has always told me that I can be a lot, but I never realized how much until I saw the conflicted look in Atlas’ eyes.
A few minutes later, rough hands land on my shoulders, and it’s such a gentle touch that the tension resting in them drains out almost instantly. The wait was long enough for my pulse to settle, for the anticipation roaring through my veins to clear out, and I’m left with this deep ache of affection for the man standing behind me.
“Ready for the second half of our date?” Lips touch my neck, the space behind my ear. Fingers brush the hair off my shoulder and deftly return it to its braid.
“You mean I didn’t make you want to pack up and run?”
