AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He prepared for this possibility.
He wanted to be ready to kiss me.
I mean to pull back, really, but I don't.
My body takes over. My hand curls around the back of his neck. My lips part for his tongue.
His hands go to my hips.
He kisses me slowly, with patience, like he has eternity to explore my mouth, like he wants to spend eternity with his lips pressed against mine.
Then a sound interrupts.
Clapping.
And a woot. And Zack, saying, "Way to go big, bro."
"What happened to your eyes being closed?" Laurel joins. And as she says, "Oooh," with all the awareness in the world, I finally snap out of my trance.
I pull back.
I fight a blush.
I tell myself to move off Jackson's lap, but his body feels so good under mine. Where it belongs. Where we both belong.
He brings his hands to his sides, trying to find some sense, but still looking at me with that perfect hazy expression.
Where are we, what are we doing, and why isn't it kissing more?
I catch my breath enough to slide out of his lap and into my seat.
His eyes stay glued to me. They stay full of some beautiful mix of curiosity and concern and need.
I have to look away so I don't blush, so I don't tell everyone in the car I want to mount him.
"Okay, Laurel, your turn, truth or dare," I say.
"Truth." She smilesdo your worst.
Zack boos. "Cowardly."
"No. Truth is much braver than dare," Laurel says. "You might have to share your darkest secret. That's much scarier than kissing someone." Her eyes go to Rome anyway.
It's like her body is screamingdare me to kiss him.
But she picked truth.
And I wouldn't push her that way. I won't ask if she likes him. If they've kissed. If they've fucked.
No, I need to keep this fun.
I ask the first sex-related question that comes to mind. "Who do you think about when you masturbate?"
Jackson chucklesof course.
He is right. I'm reusing my question. And it's an obvious question for me to ask. But it's a smart choice. It reveals something personal, but nothing too personal. She could easily say Chris Hemsworth, and no one would bat an eye.
Laurel's eyes go to Rome. She presses her lips into an effortless smile. One that saysI don't give a fuck what you think."It depends on my mood, really. If I'm feeling a memory, I think about my ex… you know him, Rome. The guy who worked with Uncle Pete when you were in college."
