June, Reimagined (43)

“Not a warning, June,” he said. “A reality. I’m not a good man.”

Being pinned beneath Lennox was the best she’d felt in days, maybe all her life. Whatever had happened to make Lennox believe he was undeserving didn’t matter to June. She didn’t care about anything other than him, all of him, right now, together with her. “I don’t believe you,” she said.

Lennox’s head fell into the nook of June’s neck. She waited, frozen, as Lennox rested his face in her hair. “That’s what scares me.”

For a second, she thought he might fall asleep right on top of her. But then a slow shift began. Lennox tilted his head. Or did June move first? It could have been both of them. It could have been an accident or fate or a natural disaster, like plates fluctuating within the earth, not of their own accord but because of their nature. Whatever the reason or cause or whether it was destiny, when June’s mouth found Lennox’s, warm and wet, the ache she felt for him grew uncontrollably. A frenzy began in her, from the weight of him, the taste, his hands on her hips, his mouth hot on her neck.

Their clothes were soon scattered on the bedroom floor, and being naked in front of Lennox was the least self-conscious June had ever felt. All she wanted was his skin on hers. She grabbed at Lennox, needing more contact, and he clung to her as if she might disappear—as if he wanted her as much as she needed him. His mouth ran down her neck, her collarbones, teasing its way to her shoulder, her breasts, her stomach.

Her breath hitched again as he ran a hand up her leg, teasing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. She pressed her hips into his, knowing just how much he wanted her. When Lennox reached for a condom, June clawed at him, pulling him back.

“Be sure, Peanut,” Lennox whispered in her ear.

June wondered at the nickname, how something she was never meant to have had brought her to this moment, led her to Lennox. Lennox had taken her kryptonite and made it insatiable, irresistible. She begged him to say her name again and again.

And she realized that there was no choice to be made. If June didn’t take Lennox now, her desire would consume her. Her body shook, her breath labored with need. She pulled Lennox to her, grasping at his hips, unwilling to let go until they were both satisfied. When he finally entered her, June gasped with relief.

There wasn’t time to wonder at how they had gotten themselves here. No past and no future. Only this between them. No questions. No worries. Just skin on skin. Lips and tongues and heat and a crescendo of craving. How much they could taste, feel, discover, consume of each other. Consequences were far from June’s mind. For now there was only herself and Lennox, with no thought or room for anyone else.





EIGHTEEN


It was near four in the afternoon, sundown already, when June awoke in Lennox’s bed. The smell of coffee filtered up the stairs. June felt for Lennox but only found emptiness. She sat up, wondering if she had imagined the morning, but the ache between her legs suggested otherwise. Her skin hummed. Her lips felt swollen and sore in the most magnificent way. She couldn’t help but smile at how delicious it all had been.

“I bet I can guess why you’re smiling.” Lennox stood in the doorway, holding a steaming mug.

“You know me that well?”

“I know you’ve got a birthmark on your right thigh. Would you consider that knowing you well?”

June felt suddenly bashful and hugged the blankets close. She was wearing a flannel shirt picked up off the floor sometime that morning before exhaustion had finally claimed them both.

Lennox handed her the mug. She took a sip, the coffee how she liked it, with just a splash of milk, she thought, giddiness coursing through her as if she were a schoolgirl. Was there any feeling better than this?

June set down the coffee and pulled her knees to her chest, resting her chin there, her face aching from smiling. She hoped she didn’t look too desperate for more of Lennox, but June just couldn’t help herself. She could stay in his bed forever and be completely content.

“Amelia called. Good news.” Lennox collected June’s scattered clothes and set them in a neat pile on the bed. “The guests have left. You can move back into your room tonight.”

June sat up straighter. As the amorous fog clouding her mind lifted, she began to take in the scene before her differently. Lennox was showered and dressed. She could smell the soap on him. While June was a disheveled post-sex mess, he had already washed himself clean of her. June was hoping she could stay in bed for days and forget the outside world, but Lennox had already opened the door.

June now saw the coffee, which she had first thought was an intimate gesture, for what it really was. Lennox was telling her to leave. It wasn’t so much that June had expected to move in. That would be ridiculous. But she hadn’t expected him to press her to go so quickly.

Lennox tucked June’s hair behind her ear. “Are you alright, Peanut?”

June flinched at his touch and stood from the bed, pulling the flannel down to cover her legs. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll start packing.” Her mind spun as she collected her clothes.

But Lennox stopped June before she could escape downstairs. He ran a hand through his messy hair—hair that June now knew the feel of, every strand, every curl. She literally craved touching it. She waited for him to say something, silently begging him to pull her back down onto the bed. Forget words. One kiss, and all of June’s worries would disappear.