“Ava.” It’s a ragged groan through the waves of orgasm.
We’re holding each other. She holds my shoulders, clinging to me as much as I am to her. I lift my head and find her mouth, kissing her like she’s water in the desert. Our lips part, tongues collide, and we consume again and again.
She’s sweet and innocent and sexy and intoxicating. I’m not sure how I’ll ever get enough of her passionate soul.
“Ava,” I whisper her name, sliding my fingers up to her soft hair and down the side of her beautiful face.
She reaches up and cups my cheeks, holding me as she kisses my face. I turn and kiss her palm.
“Your majesty,” she whispers then exhales a small laugh. Her green eyes roll and she shakes her head.
“What?” I can’t stand to think she’s second-guessing this.
“A king,” she says, with another little laugh. “How can I have fallen for a king?”
Satisfaction floods my chest. I lean up and prop my head on my hand. Running my other down the length of her body. I pause at her soft breast, circling my thumb over her nipple and watching it harden in response. I flatten my palm against her stomach then wrap it around to cup her gorgeous ass. Glancing up, I meet her eyes studying me, watching my reaction to her body’s responses.
“Have you fallen for me?” I ask. I want to hear her say it again.
A playful smile curls her lips. “Did I say that out loud?”
I laugh as I lean down, pressing our smiles together just before they melt into a passionate kiss. How is it possible? I’ve fallen for her as well.
Zelda
I’m lying on my side on the brown sectional sofa. Cal sits on the floor with his back leaning where my face is propped on my hand. On his lap is a plate of the best pizza I’ve ever eaten in my life.
“It’s crack pizza,” I announce, as he holds up another slice for me to bite. “I’ve never tasted anything this delicious, and it’s only cheese.”
“We take our cheese very seriously,” he says, leaning his head back to look at me.
I lean forward and kiss him. I haven’t stopped kissing him since we made love. I don’t want to stop as long as we still have time together. I’m so fucking afraid of what’s going to happen tomorrow, I refuse to let myself even think about it. Instead, I’ll soak up as many memories of MacCallam Lockwood Tate while I still can.
“Mm,” he says, swallowing his bite and changing the channels on the enormous flat screen television. “You must love this one. It’s black and white.”
I look up to see he’s stopped on a scene in which Woody Allen is walking beside a very young Meryl Streep.
“Manhattan! I do love this one!” I give his shoulder a brief shake and he laughs.
“Finally, something we can agree on.”
Falling back against the cushions I close my eyes. “Just listen to that Gershwin soundtrack.” I sit up quickly, just in time to see Meryl Streep slide the weight of her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “Look how beautiful she is.”
“She reminds me of someone.”
“Jennifer Lawrence. I’ve always thought that. Statuesque, blonde, amazing actress…”
“Hmm,” I can see his brow line in the flickering light. “I was thinking about you.”
“Me?” The way he says it makes me feel self-conscious. “Our noses are different.”
“Your hair is the same, your eyes…” He shifts, facing me. “You’re equally captivating.”
He’s looking at me too intently. I turn away and take another bite of crack pizza while the characters onscreen argue about the nature of politics in Ingmar Bergman films.
“Pseudo-intellectuals,” I say, hoping to break the sudden awkwardness.
With a quiet laugh, he pushes off the floor. “I think we should move this party to the bedroom.”