Delilah Green Doesn't Care(Bright Falls #1)(88)

“Wait,” she said when Claire parted her legs and started to settle between them. She pulled on Claire’s arms, guiding Claire’s body north again until they were face-to-face. “I want to see you.”

Claire pressed her forehead to Delilah’s, kissed her slowly, then adjusted her body so their legs were entwined like pretzels, thighs pressing against each other’s centers.

Delilah gasped at the contact. The wet slide of the other woman’s skin against hers was almost too much to bear. It was hot and intimate, wild and safe all at once. Delilah rolled her hips, and Claire rolled back, a dance that pulled a moan from Delilah’s throat. Claire released a sort of animal sound as Delilah gripped her ass, guiding her up and down and in circles, the press of their centers intense and perfect. Delilah’s belly tightened, her clit aching as it slid against Claire’s thigh. She sort of wanted to slow down, taste Claire, feel the heat between her legs with her fingers, but she reminded herself that they had time.

They had all night.

Claire arched her back, lifting her torso up a little so that her thigh pressed even harder right where Delilah needed it. She felt her orgasm building as Claire increased her movements, ran her thumb over Delilah’s tight nipple. Still, neither woman hurried. Even as Delilah’s physical need for release reached a desperate pitch, her veins felt honeyed. Delilah was wrong. She wasn’t fucking Claire. They weren’t fucking at all. This was something else altogether, though she wasn’t sure what. All she knew was that as Claire’s body responded to her touch, the other woman’s breath quickening, her center pushing against Delilah’s for relief, their gazes never left each other.

And when they both came, Claire biting her swollen lower lip, a low groan rumbling in her chest, she kept her eyes open and on Delilah the entire time.

It was the most gorgeous thing Delilah had ever seen.

She didn’t untangle herself from Claire. Instead, she unfolded the quilt at the end of the bed and pulled it over their heads, cocooning them inside. She wasn’t ready for the outside world yet. She wanted this to last. They had all night, sure, but one night didn’t feel like enough. She didn’t want the sun to rise, more wedding drama, the end of her two weeks in Bright Falls looming up ahead like a mountain she wasn’t sure how to climb. She just wanted this. Claire curled her arms round Delilah’s waist and pulled her close, no space at all between their heated skin. Their legs tangled, Delilah’s head tucked under Claire’s chin, her fingers trailing across Claire’s back.

“Do you do this a lot?” Claire asked after a while, twirling one of Delilah’s now-frizzy curls between her fingers.

Delilah lifted her head to look at her. “Do what?”

Claire smiled. “Wine and dine your dates.”

“You call this wining and dining?”

Claire laughed. “I mean . . . the roller skating and then . . . I don’t know . . . this.” Claire waved a hand, indicating their curled-together status, which, if it were anyone other than her, Delilah would definitely categorize as cuddling.

The truth was, no, she didn’t do this a lot. She didn’t date. She hooked up. She didn’t lie peacefully after sex and cuddle. She rolled over and fell asleep until two a.m., when she usually jolted awake trying to remember where she was before she collected her clothes and went home. She sure as hell had never taken a woman roller skating before. She’d never even taken a partner to dinner. Not since Jax.

Delilah watched Claire watching her. She couldn’t be sure what Claire was thinking here, but this thing between them wasn’t just casual anymore. Delilah was sure of it. And what was more, Delilah didn’t want this to be only that, just kisses and coming. She wanted . . . this. Roller skating and amazing sex and this peaceful sort of talking and not talking, cuddling and questions and a place to belong.

A person to belong to.

She had no idea what to say or how this would work. If it could work, if Claire even wanted it to work. But for now, she framed Claire’s face in her hands and pressed a soft kiss to her mouth.

“No,” she whispered. “I’ve never done this before in my whole life.”

Claire seemed to deflate, relaxing against her as she kissed her back, and they didn’t talk again for the rest of the night.





Chapter Twenty-Seven




TWO DAYS LATER, Claire still felt like she was drifting through a dream. It wasn’t always a pleasant dream. Sometimes, it felt more akin to a nightmare, laced with panic and heavy breathing as she wondered how the hell she was going to get through this—whatever she and Delilah were doing—without a broken heart.

But there were decidedly dreamy moments too, remembering how Delilah had kissed her, touched her, how she’d held her hand while they flew over the glossy wood of the skating rink, laughing and eyes sparkling under the disco ball. Never in a million years would Claire think she’d go roller skating with Delilah Green, share a huge slice of greasy pizza and a Coke slushy, then make love in Claire’s bed like the world was ending.

Because that’s what it had felt like.

Making love.

Not sex and definitely not fucking.

Since Monday night, Delilah and Claire had spent every possible moment together. Delilah had left the next morning before Ruby came home, but then she came by the bookstore after lunch, armed with a camera roll of photos for her and Ruby to sift through and edit together, the two of them sitting on the beanbag chairs in the kids’ section while Claire worked. Then Claire made beef stroganoff and the three of them ate dinner together at Claire’s kitchen table, and it all felt so normal and right, Claire had to excuse herself to go the bathroom in the middle of the meal, splashing water on her face and forcing a sudden surge of tears back into her eyes.