Look at You

Chapter 25

25

I've waited my whole life for a night like this.

Every single place he touches me ignites like his fingertips are burning coals. The way he says each syllable of my name is perfect, and no one else's version compares. Kissing him feels like the only reason I'm here, in this world, in this town, on this day. My whole life has been a dull ache of blacks and grays, and now I'm finally seeing electric color.

His lips find my neck and I reach for his shirt, tugging it over his shoulders. He breaks away from me just long enough to finish the job I've started, then he's back on my mouth, his hands running underneath my t-shirt up my chest. He's gotten one layer off me, but the this one remains.

His knees press against the edges of my thighs as he towers over me, the two of us sweating, cemented to the bed's sheets. Each time he moves to kiss me it's so powerful that the mattress slides against the wooden floor.

Finally, he decides to take off the last piece of fabric that divides my chest from his. When he breaks away from me to pull the shirt over my head, I hear myself gasping for air like I can't breathe without him.

It drives him crazy. He buries his head into my neck, pressing his whole body against mine now. "Fuck, Simon."

I'm panting. His teeth graze down my neck toward my collarbone and I have to slam my eyes shut because the room is spinning, and his belt buckle is digging into my upper thigh making it very hard to think about anything else except undoing it.

"I know."

Those are the only words we say for the next thirty minutes. All we can do is pull each other closer, crash together and come apart.

Cam's the first to unbuckle, and it's me he's doing. He slides my jeans off, standing up off the mattress to toss them to the floor. Without a warning, he's bending down and pulling me up by both my hands, the only thing still on my body a very tight, very short pair of black boxer briefs.

This view of me has given Cam a different sense of purpose.

He stands in front of me holding me at an arm's length, taking me in like this is the first time he's seen me all night. My skin grows goosebumps under his gaze. The lights from the street below drift in through the living room window, bathing him in a dull white glow.

He steps toward me slowly. Once he's close enough, he pins both my hands above my head, pushing me back against the wall with only his chest.

When he kisses me this time, it's slow. He takes his time. He makes sure I'm feeling every single movement he makes against my lips. He makes sure that every nerve of my body dances, one at a time.

He drops my hands and picks me up under my thighs, catching my body with his, pressing me against the wall, somehow cementing us closer. I tighten my legs around his waist and let him take every single entrance he wants. I bury my hands in his hair just to grab a hold of something, but he has me.

We're on the floor maybe twenty minutes later. Me on top this time. I undo the buckle of his jeans as I pull away from his lips slightly. "Just so your belt isn't digging into my skin," I tell him, sliding pants down his thighs because while I'd be far happier with no clothing on at all, I have no idea what he's expecting.

He nods, unbothered, capturing my lips in his again, the lack of contact a second too long. His fingers wind around the back of my head, deepening his hold on my lips. I groan as I pull away, sliding off his pants where they pool at his ankles.

Laughter from the streets below catches my attention. I sit up straight, my chair Cameron's upper thighs. Music starts blaring from someone's portable speaker, or a bar's open doors, and I look down at Cam's watch. It's midnight, which means we've been here, in my apartment, kissing and undressing and touching and moaning for hours.