“Probably a toast for my father,” Simon says, making me jump. He’s inches behind me, and his breath grazes against my neck when he talks. I keep my hand on the curtain, afraid to move — and not wanting to.
A silence follows his statement. The floor creaks and he shifts forward just enough that his chest brushes against my shoulder. I hold my breath, half afraid that if I exhale the moment will pass and he will move away, never to touch me again.
“I’m sorry about everything,” he whispers and I feel his warm breath in my hair.
I shut my eyes. “I know. I believe you. That doesn’t change things.”
Perhaps Simon can’t help but be anything other than the way he is. With all the puzzle pieces of his past falling into place, his personality is starting to make sense. It makes me believe that he’s possibly regretful for doing things the way he has… but I’m not stupid. He still hasn’t promised me anything different.
He chuckles. “I’m surprised you believe me.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” I remain still, staring out at the yard. He doesn’t move either.
When he speaks again, all humor is gone from his tone. “Most people think I’m an awful guy.”
“The way you treat others says everything about who you are.”
“I know,” he says quietly.
“What do you think? Are you an awful person?”
He waits so long to speak I almost think he’s not going to answer. “I don’t know what I am anymore.”
Anymore?
A light touch brushes against my bare arm, and I close my eyes. Just a few seconds. That’s all I’ll allow myself. After that, I’ll push him away and tell him to leave me alone. I’ll go outside and have a barbecue sandwich and talk to a middle aged housewife about vacation spots I can’t afford to visit or which maid service is the best.
Oh, screw it.
I don’t want a barbecue sandwich.
And I don’t want to be with anyone but Simon.
His fingertips fall away. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything, Sydney, but I won’t try anything unless you want it too.”
I have to clutch the windowsill to keep from falling down. When I open my eyes, everything is blurring, going out of focus. I spin around to face him.
Our faces are inches apart.
“I want to do things differently,” he says, “but that’s all I know. I don’t know what that means, really, or where I’m supposed to go from here.”
“You can’t experiment on me.” My voice cracks over the last bit of the sentence and I feel so raw and exposed, standing in front of him, showing my fears.
His face softens. “I know.”
He takes a step back, meaning to leave. I reach out and grab his hand, pulling him back to me. Our lips lock together, the kiss days in the making. Instantly, his hands go to my waist, pulling me close, then everything is moving unbelievably fast.
His heart beats wildly against my chest, mirroring my own frantic pulse. My fingers act of their own accord, running up the back of his neck to work through his hair, then down again, across his shoulders and chest. Every bit of him is perfectly angled and smooth; the best thing my hands have ever touched.
He pushes me backward and we bump into the windowsill. His tongue slips between my teeth, and a moan escapes from me. In response, he growls, hooking his hands under my butt and lifting me up to sit on the wide windowsill. My legs open up and curl around his waist, the skirt I already thought too short now pushed all the way to my hips. The hard bulge in his pants presses against my thigh, hot and throbbing.
I gasp into his mouth and clutch him harder. The entire world is fading away, and along with it all the reasons for not doing precisely what I am.
All that exists are Simon’s mouth, hands, and body. His fingers work at my shirt, balling the hem up so he can pull the whole thing over my head. He pushes forward even more, his mouth laying kisses against the side of my neck as my bare back presses against the cold window.
He sucks against the tender side of my throat while pushing my bra straps down. The heat in me is building, building, threatening to explode. I grab the back of his belt, pulling him further against me. He rubs against my underwear and a tremor travels across my body.
He unhooks my bra and it falls to the floor. One warm hand slides up and across my breasts as his mouth kisses a trail to mine. The second his lips are on mine, I bite him slightly. He pushes against me again, gripping my breast in his hand.
The kisses come faster, each one more wild than the last. I grab his hair in my hands, pulling it slightly. One of his palms remains on my chest while the other one slides between my legs. The throbbing there intensifies at the close proximity of his touch. His thumb brushes across the fabric of my soaking panties and I moan. He repeats the motion, teasing me.