Whisper to Me(66)

By the middle of the set, I noticed that Rachel was shivering beside me. I slid over and wrapped my arms tightly around her, hoping to keep her warm. She immediately relaxed against my chest, so I knew I’d made the right decision.

It felt like we were in our own little sanctuary—surrounded on all sides by people we didn’t know, and, fuck, I wanted to savor it. The privacy and the freedom to be out in the open with her. Nobody questioning anything. Questioning us.

Overcome with emotion, I leaned forward to kiss Rachel’s hair, at the exact location of her scar. I hadn’t even thought it through—it just felt natural. She looked up at me, eyes wide and lips quivering, as if I’d done something so private, personal, secret.

Then she cast a quick glance over my shoulder, and at the crowd, as if we’d been caught being close. Intimate. The moment she realized that we were anonymous, the corners of her lips tugged into a gorgeous and playful grin.

I planted a soft kiss on her shoulder and then my fingers traced her chin before slipping down her throat. I brushed aside her hair to feather my lips along her hairline. She trembled and tucked her head against my neck.

My fingers traveled down her arm to the soft sliver of skin above her shorts and I tugged her more firmly against me. I was sure she could feel how aroused she made me, but I didn’t give a shit. It felt too damn good—too damn right—having her so close.

It was amazing how responsive she was to me. Her breaths escaped from her lips in shuddery whispers, and her nipples pebbled beneath her shirt. I could hear—or rather feel—her low moans, despite the chaos of the crowd and the noise of the band.

She swung her ass across my crotch, and it was so seductive, my breath scattered in gusts of wind against her hair. If anyone had been watching, they might have assumed we were simply swaying to the music, when in fact I had the impulse to lay her down on the grass and strip her naked. Feel her soft skin and bury myself deep inside her.

She placed her warm hand over mine, urging my fingers beneath her shirt. My palm crept upward, slipping over her moist flesh, and enclosing her breast. Skimming beneath the lace of her bra, my thumb traced circles around her nipple, as she whimpered and arched her back.

I groaned into her neck and then trailed the tip of my tongue to her ear. “I fucking want you so bad.”

Her eyes wilted to half-mast upon hearing those words. Twisting her head, she kissed the hollow of my throat, her lips like a suction cup against my damp skin.

She clutched my shoulder and tilted her face, her mouth moving closer to mine. My tongue flitted out, outlining her lips, and her eyes darkened with need. Our breath mingled and our lips brushed as we stole the smallest of kisses. Kisses that did nothing to quench my craving for her.

Her mouth found my ear. “I want you, too . . . so much.”

I could barely focus on the music because her fingers were in my hair, and her other hand had slid up my shirt to tug lightly on my nipple ring. My knee was resting between her legs, and my dick was pulsing so goddamn hard against her back.

I looked into the deep pools of her eyes and saw something there.

It was more than desire. It was more like a promise of things to come.

I sealed my mouth over hers and our tongues darted out to taste each other. She spun in my arms and wove her hands around my neck. I deepened the kiss and pulled her body flush against mine, keeping in mind that we were in a public place.

We stayed close throughout the rest of the set—stealing kissing and touches and secret glances against the backdrop of my favorite music, not giving two shits if anybody was observing us.

I watched her expression as the lights from the set illuminated her features, and I saw how lost she was in the moment. She was as engrossed as I was, and it felt like something had shifted between us. I wasn’t ready to name it, nor did I want to. I just wanted to feel it, experience it, live it tonight—with this girl who meant the world to me.

After an impressive fireworks display as the grand finale, we weaved our way through the crowd, fingers interlaced, never once considering letting go. I was positively drunk on Rachel, and given her furtive glances my way, she seemed equally as intoxicated. Call it longing or passion or lust—I didn’t know which.

Her hair had begun to dry, and it fell in soft waves at the top of her neck. She looked sexy as hell. Even the black eye makeup that had crept beneath her eyes made her look like a seductive vixen. Her thumb was rubbing circles against my palm, and, God, I wanted her more than ever right then. If only we could head somewhere private, where I’d have her to myself all night.

She tripped over a puddle, getting our shoes even muddier, and we laughed about the state of our clothes.