Hold My Breath(66)

“Oh,” I blush, my thumbnail quickly moving between my teeth.

“Let’s see, first, there’s the way your legs curve along your quads, the muscle that’s there giving them this edge. The athlete part of me likes how hard you had to train to make it that way,” he says.

“What does the…” I pause, taking a quick breath, “man side of you think?” I ask, now so red that even my arms look flushed.

“Oh, the man side…” he growls low, a rumble from his chest. “That part of me likes the ride my hand takes when it starts just above your knee, then glides slowly up your leg to your panties, my fingertips tracing that lacey band that runs along the inside of your thigh and up over your hip.”

Holy hell.

“And then there’s the way your neck curves into your shoulder, the way your hair tickles your skin and makes you get goosebumps—just like it does when I kiss you there,” he says, and my body shivers at the memory of his mouth against me.

“Your eyes do this thing, just before you race, where they haze and close in on their prey. I always imagined what it would be like for you to look at me like that,” he says.

“Haven’t I?” I ask, waiting a breath while he considers what I’m asking. “Looked at you that way,” I fill in. “When we…”

“Maddy, I was so focused on every other part of your body that day, I don’t remember what your eyes looked like,” he laughs.

“Well maybe next time you will,” I say.

“Next time.” I can hear his grin in his words.

“Yeah,” I breathe. “Next time.”

This time.

The quiet comes again, filled only by the sound of his breathing, his breath a long draw that sounds as a warning in my ear. I chew at my nail, waiting…hoping.

“Maddy,” he says, finally.

“Yes?” I sit up and crawl to my knees.

I hear his door open across the hall, and I stand, pressing my palm and forehead against mine.

“Let me in,” he says.

I drop my phone to the floor and unlock my door, his hands running along my cheeks and into my hair the minute he enters my room. He kisses me so hard that he walks me backward several steps before the door slams closed behind him. His hands sweep down my sides to my legs, and he lifts me; my legs wrap around him as he continues to take long strides toward the bed, where he drops me the instant we reach it.

Will doesn’t waste a breath, lifting his shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor as he moves closer to me. I lift myself on my elbows and bend my knees as I lower my chin to my chest to look him in the eyes. He runs his hands up my legs and along my knees, pushing them apart enough to put his knee on the bed between my legs. I move myself backward slowly as he crawls toward me—predator, prey.

“There it is,” he smirks. “That’s the look I love. Goddamn, Maddy, when you look like you want something.”

His biceps flex from holding his weight, he climbs over me slowly, and I succumb, falling to my back until his elbows rest on either side of my head, his eyes raking over my face as his hands run through my hair and caress my cheek so sweetly I can’t help but close my eyes and just feel.

“You have no idea,” he says, and I hum, “what?”

Will’s lips brush against my cheek, and I feel his tongue tickle my ear, his teeth gently tugging on the lobe as he breathes softly, covering my skin in tiny bumps while my spine rushes with a sensation like morphine—numb and tingly all at once.

“Just how beautiful of a woman you’ve become,” he says into the tiny space above my shoulder. I feel his words travel down my neck, down my body, and I pull my right leg up higher, the sensation settling where his hardness teases against my center.

My eyes blink open, and his are waiting—adoring.

I bring my hands to his face, my cool palms pressing softly against his unshaven cheeks, warm with want.

“When you were eighteen, that summer…just before you left for State,” I say, stopping at the sight of his breath catching, his eyes moving just enough that I see this hint of hurt flash behind them. I run my thumb along his jaw, and he turns his face enough to the side so his lips catch my palm. He kisses it, never once breaking our gaze.

“I would have picked you,” I confess, my chest lifting with life, my lungs filling with the weight of every single word I just put there between us. I believe it. My heart knows it, and maybe it knew it all along. “If you would have kissed me. A hint, or sign, or…anything. Will…” I let my hands slide down his chest, pausing over his heart. “I would have chosen you.”

Seconds pass with his eyes on mine—the only movement the trembling sensation of his thumbs along my own over his rapidly beating heart. His lips fall to my forehead slowly, his eyes closing as he draws near, and I close mine.

“I dream it every night, Maddy. Every single night,” he says against me. He moves so his forehead is resting on mine, his body lifted above me, his weight held by his hands on either side of my body. I watch his chest move in and out with heavy, long-drawn breaths. “There is not a single day that has passed since I’ve met you that I didn’t know in my heart you were supposed to be with me.”

“You never said anything,” I say, touching his face. I lift his chin enough to look at me.