The Absence of Olivia(52)
I captured the image in my camera, in my mind, and more deeply, in my heart. He was burnt in it, forever plastered against its walls, leaving a permanent mark. I knew the photo would be immaculate, but it wouldn’t do the moment justice. Not even close.
He turned and caught me taking his picture, but only smiled at me, allowing me to take one last perfect picture of his gorgeous smile with sunlight radiating around him, mist from the falls clouding the air around him. He held his hand out to me and said, “Come on.”
I let my camera drape from my neck and took his hand, unable to hide or smother the smile I wore.
He walked along the edge of the water, leading me around the pool that formed at the bottom of the falls. He continued to hold my hand as he led me up a rocky ledge that led to a manmade path that brought us back behind the falls. It was, compared to other falls in the area, a relatively small waterfall, but the cavern behind the falls was large and dark. Water dripped from the cavern roof and a cold breeze blew through, making me shiver. Nate stopped when we were deep in the cave and sat on a large rock. My voice caught in my throat when he pulled me into his lap, leaving me sitting sideways on his large thighs. He wrapped his big, warm arms around me, his hands moving over the exposed skin of my arms.
“You’re freezing,” he said softly.
I’d been extremely cold only seconds before, but then he pulled me to him, and put his hands on me, and suddenly, I couldn’t remember ever being warmer. His hands moved up and down my bare arms and my eyes stayed locked on his. Slowly, on each pass upward, his hands moved farther up until finally they caressed my shoulders, rubbing gently, kneading just enough to make my eyelids flutter. After a few moments, his rough yet tender hands moved to grasp each side of my neck, thumbs gently stroking me there, and his eyes were silently asking for permission.
I nodded, ever so slightly, and watched as his eyes, which looked almost pained, moved closer to me until finally his lips feathered over mine. I took in a shuddering breath, not prepared for the enormity of what I would feel with his mouth against mine. Kissing Nate was like coming home. It was like coming in from a rainstorm to sit in front of a roaring fire. Like the first sunny day after months of clouds. It was simply everything. And as if he knew I would be lost with his mouth pressing against mine, knew I’d be drowning in feeling, he wasted no time taking control.
His hands came up to cradle my face, holding me to him, his lips moving over mine with purpose. His lips parted slightly and I let out a breathy gasp as he took my lower lip into his mouth, sucking gently. He may as well have been sucking on a few other parts of my body for what it made me feel. I was instantly hot and buzzing, imagining his mouth doing that exact same thing in other places. I groaned slightly when his teeth came to nip at me, and at my noises, he seemed to lose a bit of his control.
Instantly, his arm was around my waist and I yelped as he stood, holding me to him, but swinging me so that my legs wrapped around him, then sat again with my legs straddling him. He reached up and wrapped his fingers around the neck strap of my camera, then paused, silently asking permission to take it off. I bent my head forward and felt him lift it over, then watched as he placed it gently on top of his backpack, keeping it off the wet cavern floor.
When he turned back to me, each of his hands landed on one of my knees, and then slowly slid up my thighs, to the side of my hips and up my ribcage. His large, warm palms slid over my back and he pulled me closer to him, my breasts pressing up against his hard chest, and then he kissed me again. This time, though, the kiss was hungry. He wasted no time parting my lips with his tongue. Then, he just took.
I’d never submitted to anyone like I did in that moment. I was happily giving control over to him, finally glad to feel like I was allowed to give someone whatever he wanted. Excited not to feel shame or guilt for kissing someone, for feeling whatever I was feeling. And, at that moment, I was feeling hungry too.
My hands wandered over his chest, my tongue pressed against his, and I reveled in the feeling of being so close to him, of letting him get that close to begin with. This was no at-arms-length encounter; he wasn’t someone I was trying to keep at a safe distance. He was in it with me, entirely present, fully pressed against me, and his body was asking for more.
His hands raked down my back then came around my waist and while one hand rested on my hip, the other floated up my belly then came to cup my breast, gently palming me over my shirt. The contact was maddening and I wished we weren’t just yards away from other hikers. The brief brush of his hand over my breast was enough to light a fire, but now I had no way to put out the flame.
His mouth pulled away from mine roughly, but then landed on my neck, kissing down the sensitive skin there until his tongue met the hollow part at the base. I was panting, my hands threaded through his soft hair, practically holding his mouth to me, hoping he never stopped using it on me.
“God, Lyn, I can’t get enough.” His mouth dragged back up my throat, moving over my jaw, then took my mouth again. I rocked forward, trying to get as close to him as I possibly could, trying to, Jesus, I didn’t know. I wanted to climb inside of him, wanted to be a part of him, and to have him be a part of me. I wanted to somehow bind myself to him, mark him, leave some sort of proof I had been there, on his lap, writhing against him, and his mouth had been on my skin. I wanted all kinds of things that didn’t seem possible. I wanted things I’d never thought possible. I wanted him. Even if it was just once, just one time to feel that connection to him, I’d give anything.