Dear Life(73)

Before she can answer, I crash my lips to hers. My fingers dig into her skin, electrifying our connection, forcing her to do the same.

Tentatively, her hands shake in the best way possible as she presses her palms against my roughened jaw. Her lips, so soft; her touch, so gentle; the light mews coming from her mouth, so fucking bone jarring because they’re not fake. They’re real. She’s so real, from the innocent look she gives me when she’s about to learn something new, to the way she smiles while joking, to the lustful look I see right before I’m about to kiss her.

So fucking real.

And that right there, that is what has me clinging to her. As if I can’t let go.

Her innocence, her purity, the way she sees this world unfiltered. I’m addicted.

Pushing her up against the sheet-covered window, I press my hips against hers, pinning her. She doesn’t try to move. Instead, she sinks into my touch, her body melting like butter against me, fully giving herself over.

There are no walls, no boundaries between us. From her face, I move my hands down her neck, past her shoulders to her rib cage, my thumbs dancing dangerously close to her breasts. On a sexy gasp, her lips disengage from mine, her eyes wide from the way my thumbs are gently caressing the skin right below her breasts.

“Carter,” she says breathlessly, searching my eyes. She bites her bottom lip, a nervous look about her. “I’ve never, um, done anything of the sexual nature.”

Deep in my throat, a bark of laughter wants to come out from her phrasing. “The sexual nature.” Only Daisy would say something like that. But to avoid humiliating her, I tamp down my reaction, swallow hard and say, “I kind of guessed that, Snowflake.”

“Is it that obvious?” Her cheeks stain red. Of course it’s that obvious, but that’s not a negative thing. Her purity, I love it.

I press our palms together and hold them up by our shoulders, looking in those beautifully shy eyes of hers. “It’s not obvious. I just know your past, where you’ve come from.”

“Do you think I’m a loser?”

“What? No,” I respond angrily. “Why the hell would I think that?”

Her shoulders move, unsure as to why she would ask me that question.

“Being cool is not defined by how provocative you’ve been in your earlier years, but by the kind of person you are on the inside. And after hearing about the stories with your grams and the way you treat everyday life occurrences with a smile, makes me believe you’re pretty fucking cool.”

Her bright smile eats me alive. “You’re pretty cool yourself, Carter.”

“I damn well better be in your eyes.”

“You are.” With trepidation, she stands on her toes and presses a kiss against my lips, our bodies settling against each other once again. I love how she reached out to me this time. She pursued me. Me. “I have a question or you,” she says when she breaks apart from my lips.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

Her fingers play with the back of my head, twisting and turning in my short strands. “Would you want to maybe meet my grams? Just because she wants to know who I’m hanging out with. You know, she’s very protective and since—”

“Sure,” I say to silence her. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?” she asks, that smile becoming impossibly bright.

“You make out with me on the couch. This talking is driving me fucking crazy. I just want your lips on mine.”

Nervously, she says, “Um, okay, but I’m not . . . ready, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, neither am I,” I answer.

“Wait, what?” she asks, looking a little insulted, which only makes me chuckle.

“Yeah, that’s right, I’m not ready to go much farther with you either. Just because everything about you turns me on doesn’t mean I’m about to bone you up against the window. When you have a connection like ours, you cherish it. Don’t worry about me pushing things past making out and some heavy petting.”

“Heavy petting?” she asks, a rise of her eyebrow. So fucking cute.

“Well, yeah, you can’t make me stay away from your tits for too long. I’m a man, for fuck’s sake.”

As she giggles, I scoop her up in my arms, move us to the couch, and lay her down so my body is on top of hers. Pressing my weight against hers, I cup her face, my forearms framing her, and I lean down, loving the way she feels, so soft, so warm.

And at this moment, this one right here, I don’t feel anything but Daisy’s purity, and fuck if I’m not infatuated with it. With her.





JACE


“Uh, do you have everything you need?” I ask from the hallway of my little apartment.

“I’m good,” Hollyn replies.

Shifting away from the bathroom, I stand there, next to my bed, my hand rubbing the back of my neck, unsure what to do.

Hollyn is spending the night. I offered to get her a hotel room but she told me not to be ridiculous, that she would just stay with me in my little short-rental apartment. She didn’t want me spending any more money on her . . . even though I was the one who asked her to come out here.

Hell, I wasn’t going to put up a fight.

The only problem: my place is a total bachelor pad, meaning, there are two chairs that sit in front of a big-screen TV and one bed in the back of the apartment. I don’t even have a dresser, which was fine until Hollyn came over and saw all my clothes folded and on the floor. It looks fucking tacky as shit.