Not amused, I say, "I did not look like that."
"Oh my God, you so did."
Her laughter carries through the small space of my room, the sound a melodic harmony in my ears. And before I can stop myself, I charge toward her, grab her by the waist, and toss her on my bed where I quickly climb on top of her and pin her to the mattress with her hands above her head.
Her laughter fades. Her face grows serious, and I can see the questions running through her eyes. I'm welcomed by one of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen: Emma under me, her chestnut hair fanned out along the comforter, her brilliant eyes searching mine, and her pajama shirt is open at the top, a peek of the swell of her breasts as well.
Her breath starts to pick up as she waits for my next move, a move I'm entirely unsure of as well. The only thing I know right now is how good she feels in my arms, how mesmerizing she smells, a combo of honey and mint, and the way her legs are slowly rubbing together, as if she's a cat purring in need.
The air around us becomes thick as I lean my head closer to hers, the tension in the room growing with each passing breath. Bodies pressed together, thoughts of every move I could make with Emma beneath me passes through my mind as I try to gain control of my raging emotions. I fucking want this woman. I want her for her innocence, for her purity, for her friendship, for her kind and caring hands. I want her for human contact, for healing, for the power to forget. The power to heal?
I want her for all the wrong reasons, and yet, I can't help but think how right she feels.
When I lean closer, I start to run the tip of my nose up the column of her neck, taking in her scent, and loving the way I can feel her swallow hard. With nerves? Still, almost lifeless, Emma lies beneath me, not making a sound or move. Her breathing is slow yet erratic, waiting, just waiting to see what I'll do next.
When my nose reaches her jaw, I move it toward her ear where my lips barely caress her lobe before I pull away. Her mouth is open, her skin starting to coat in a sheen of sweat. She's so fucking edible, I want to take a bite. I want to nip up and down her body, taste her, see what it's like to not just be friends with this woman, but to cross the line, to find out what it's like to be inside her.
I move my nose to the other side of her face when her breath catches in her throat and she says, her voice shaking with each word, "Uh, if you find that my lymph nodes are swollen in your exploration, please let me know." For some reason, her request doesn't surprise me all too much.
Stopping my pursuit, I lift up just enough to see her eyes. "You want me to check your lymph nodes?"
She swallows hard. "Only if you're into that kind of thing. I mean, not that you would really feel them since they're only about half an inch across and you're not a trained professional, but if it seems to be lumpy around there, just give me the old heads-up."
"Uh, do you feel like they're swollen?" She's so fucking nervous, she's shaking like a leaf beneath me, which explains the whole rambling conversation about the lymph nodes. Maybe I've read her wrong this entire time. The glances, the touches, the snuggling, maybe they were all just her way of being friendly.
"Not necessarily, but it's always good to be aware of symptoms before they occur. Staying on top of things is how we stay healthy. You know, catch it before it happens." She sighs and bites on her bottom lip.
Fuck, that's sexy.
"Yeah, I get that." This moment turned awkward and quickly.
Looking unsure, she pauses for a second and then asks, "Do you want me to check your lymph nodes?"
Not really, but at this moment, we need a smooth transition from the intimate moment we were just experiencing, to the awkward one we're experiencing now. So, I shrug my shoulders and say, "Why not?"
Reluctantly, I stand from her body and sit down on my bed where I lean my back against the headboard and pat my lap. She eyes me, unsure if she should take the invitation or not.
"I don't bite, babe. If you're going to check out my lymph nodes then you should get a front-row seat, don't you think?"
Christ. I'm flirting with her . . . about checking my lymph nodes. Has it really been that long since I've flirted? And should I really be flirting with Emma? Touching her, imagining her lips on mine, wondering what that damn seductive mouth of hers tastes like? She didn't come to live with me so she can fuck one of her childhood friends; she came here so she had a place to live while she finished up her last year in college. And yet, I want to make it the best semester of her life and if that means I spend my nights deep inside her, making her call my name while that goddamn sweet face looks up at me, then so be it.