Move the Stars (Something in the Way 3)

His chest rumbled underneath me. “Does the taste bother you?”

“It makes me think of all the times I watched you smoke or play with your cigarette. I wanted to know so bad what it would be like to kiss you. Cigarettes always make me think of you. I even let a classmate of mine kiss me at a party because he was a smoker, so I could imagine it was you. That way, I wouldn’t have to die wondering what a smoky mouth would be like. So no, it doesn’t bother me.”

He inhaled through his teeth. “You kissed someone else?”

“Of course I have. Haven’t you?”

My sarcasm was lost on him. He released my hand to sneak an arm under the blanket, around my back, tightening his hold on me. “Who else have you kissed?”

A part of me wanted to tell him—and that part was larger than I cared to admit. “I’ve been on dates. I kissed some of them.”

“How many?”

“Over the years? I don’t know. I made out with one of Corbin’s frat brothers, and Corbin nearly broke his nose.”

“What about Corbin?”

“I kiss him all the time,” I said. I didn’t necessarily want to rub it in Manning’s face, but he asked. He probably deserved to visualize me with others the way I had him so many times with Tiffany. “Usually when I’m drunk or when we’re having a nice time together. I just haven’t been able to take it much further than that.”

“But you did take it further.”

I bit my bottom lip. It was maybe more than I needed to share. If I knew Manning, his imagination would be torture enough. “A little,” I said.

“How little?”

“I’m not going to say. In one day, you’ve already had more than he ever did. So you should be happy with that.”

Happy, he was not. His expression remained passive, but I felt the pull of his muscles, saw the tick in his jaw. “What about the night of the wedding?” he asked. “When you were crying. Did he kiss you then?”

“No.”

“He’s not going to bother you anymore, is he?” Manning asked. “When I go back to California to sort shit out, he’ll stay away? Hearing about you and him, you and anyone, makes me want to put my fist through a wall, Lake. I know it isn’t fair, but it’s the truth.”

It was laughable that Manning should have any say over my love life, but it was also a turn-on to see him get annoyed after so many years of getting nothing from him. “He’s my best friend,” I said. “He’s not going anywhere, but I promise you, I will never, ever kiss him again.”

Manning took my chin, lifting my face to his. “Swear to me you will only kiss one person from now on.”

“I will only kiss you.”

“So do it,” he said.

I did. I never wanted to move from his lap, from his possessive hold on me and even more possessive words. His scruff scratched my lips, but more urgently, his erection had been digging into my thigh since we’d woken up. I pulled on the button of his jeans until it gave. It took some maneuvering, but I managed to squeeze my hand between us, into his pants.

“What’re you looking for?” he asked.

The second I wrapped my hand around him, his neck corded. I moved my fist back and forth over his shaft, my eyes glued to his face as I relished how solid he felt against my palm.

“I want to watch you,” he said.

Shielding us with the blanket, I scooted over on his lap enough to lower his zipper and pull him out. My fingers seemed even whiter against his bloated purple head.

“Your hand looks so good on me, Lake. Feels fucking amazing.”

Emboldened by his praise, I moved a little faster. “Can you show me how you do it?” I asked.

He took my wrist and spit into in my palm before lowering my hand back to slide it along the length of him. “Fuck.” He let go of me to grasp the metal frame over our heads, shifting underneath me. “The saliva.”

The way he groaned from his chest and dropped his head back made me squirm along with him. I wanted to know exactly how it felt. I wanted to always have this kind of power over him. He looked as though he’d give me anything I asked for just then. If I’d done this years ago in the truck, could all our heartache have been avoided?

“More,” he said, grit in his throat.

More? I moved faster, but my saliva had already dried. I started to wet my hand again but paused. By more, did he mean something else? This was as far as I’d gone with anyone but Manning. When I looked up, he was watching my face, and I had my answer. Manning knew the thoughts running through my mind, and if he wanted me to stop, he’d have told me to. He’d never had any problem telling me no. “Will you let me do more?” I asked.