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Dune
Her smile made promises. At least I’d die happy.
“You gave me a list of places women like to be touched.” The light was in her eyes again. “Think you can conjure that up about now?”
I took her hand and flipped it over. “Palm.”
“Are you going to read it? Because there are palm readers all over Jackson Square. We can go down later and check with a professional.”
I drew my index finger down the middle of it and kept going. “Wrist. Inner elbow.” “Oh. That’ll work.”
Watching her eyes go wide gave me a boost. When I reached her collarbone, I traced it with two fingers. “Clavicle.”
“That sounds too scientific. And sharp.” A tremble worked its way into her voice.
“Hollow of the throat. Nape of the neck. Shoulder muscles.” I massaged some of her tension away, and then brought it all back when I put my hand on the small of her back and pulled her closer. She inhaled sharply when my lips grazed her earlobe.
“You skipped a few.”
“We aren’t ready for those,” I said.
“I’m okay with concentrating on everything you listed.”
“You’re breathing really fast.”
“Is that a scientific observation?” she asked. “Should I make a note?”
“No.” I couldn’t wait another second. I leaned in.
She kept her lips still when mine touched hers, and I froze, wondering if I’d somehow misread her. I started to pull away.
“No, don’t.” She held me tighter, sliding over so her body was flush against mine. “I always want to remember what it felt like the first time you touched me. Like this.”
“I have a green light, then?” Because now that we were finally here, holding back might kill me.
“It’s fluorescent. Blinking. Spinning.”
I went slowly, partly because I wanted to drive her crazy, and partly because I wanted to remember the first time I touched her, too.
Her lips, cheeks, eyelids, all got equal attention. Her temples, the spot just below her ear, the hollow of her throat. I traced the length of her spine and slipped my fingertips inside the back of her sweater to feel the skin I’d been dreaming of, loving the catch of her breath. She was as soft and warm as I’d thought she’d be. Better.
Our first kiss was unbearably gentle, considering what I wanted, but I had a point to prove. So much of her life had been fast, lived out in spurts of freedom. I didn’t want what we shared to be like anything else she’d ever experienced. Time was compressed, trouble was going down, but I wanted to be part of a long chain of Hallie’s memories, which meant I’d be intentional about making them.
She had other ideas.
“My turn,” she said, rolling me onto my back. Her hair spilled over her shoulders and tickled my cheeks.
“You’re going to wreck my self-control.” And my lack of it was a little too obvious.
Leaning forward, she rested her forearms on my chest, touched her lips to mine, and whispered, “That’s the goal, yes.”
I’d wanted to be close to her, and now I was all kinds of tangled up. I threaded my fingers in her hair, pulled her face closer. “Maybe we should move down to the co—”
“Don’t you dare.” She trailed her fingertips down to my neck. “I haven’t read any surveys about where men like to be touched, but I bet the list is short.”
“Only for those who don’t want to enjoy the journey.”
“You have a way with the sweet talk, Mr. Ta’ala. Don’t tell me you’re going to be a gentleman.”
