God, she’s gorgeous.
Usually I’ve at least got a bit of game, but I can’t do anything except stare at her and stutter when she’s right there looking like that. Her hoodie got unzipped somewhere amidst all the kissing, and it’s slipped over her good shoulder, leaving it bare except for the strap of her sports bra.
I didn’t even realize she only had a bra under her hoodie until she stood up. Now I can’t take my eyes off the smooth skin of her stomach or the curves of her chest.
I curse under my breath, and her eyes spark as she bites her lip.
She was beautiful in high school. Now she’s a fucking goddess.
I groan when she straddles my thighs and sits on my lap. I’m already hard, and I’m not sure if it feels better or worse when she brings her hips in even closer.
All I know is I want more.
“God, Paige.” I frame her face with both my hands. “You’re going to kill me.”
She stares into my eyes, and though they’re blazing with desire, they’re filled with so much more. I see a million questions there. I see all the answers I’ve been looking for. I see the girl I knew and the one I desperately want to know now.
I trace her lips with my thumb, and her eyelids drop. Her sigh is hot against my skin. I move to kiss her again, but then I notice she’s shaking.
“Hey.” I brush the back of my hand over her cheek. “Hey, hey, hey.”
She keeps her eyes closed. “Sorry. I know this isn’t exactly hot. I just...I just...”
“It’s okay. Hey. It’s okay. I feel the same.” I swallow as the corners of my eyes start to prick with heat again. “It’s, uh, a lot.”
She gives a weak chuckle. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”
“What do you need?”
She bends so that our foreheads are touching again. “Could you maybe just hold me for a bit?”
“Of course. There’s nothing I want more.”
* * *
An hour later,Paige and I are lying next to each other on my bed. She’s propped up on pillows, her sling carefully arranged across her chest, and I’m on my side next to her, one of my hands playing with her hair.
“Oh my god, you’re obsessed with my hair.”
She tries to swat me away, but I go right back to twisting a strand around my fingers.
“I can’t stop myself. It’s great hair.”
I held her on my couch for a while before she said it might be better for her arm if we moved. We’ve kissed some more, and she keeps looking at me like she’s as desperate as I am, but we both realize this is one of those moments when it’s best to take it slow. Dislocated shoulder aside, I still don’t want to rush things. I want time to remember this.
That doesn’t mean I can stop myself from trailing my hand down her side and making her shiver. Her hoodie is still unzipped, and I trace along the edge of her bra until I get to her tattoo.
Chân lýis spelt out in swooping black script on her skin.
“Chanly.” She stiffens for a second as I loop my fingertip over the accented letters, but she doesn’t jerk away or tell me to stop. “It’s Vietnamese, right?”
“Yeah.Chân lý,” she repeats with the proper pronunciation.
I let the silence settle. I’m not going to push her if she doesn’t want to tell me more.
“It’s one of the ways to say truth,” she murmurs. “Or light of truth, in some situations.”
You found your truth in the dark
