A Perfect Fit

21

Isabelle

There are many things in modern-day life that can be irritating: slow internet, waiting for a video to buffer, battling through a heavy storm with an umbrella that keeps flipping inside out, someone purposely spoiling the ending of a book or movie, making a dash for the subway or elevator only to see the doors close right in front of you, and so on and so forth.

But there are also many things in life that remind you of the beauty in the everyday: finishing a book or movie that tugs at your heartstrings and leaves with you a warm and fuzzy feeling, getting home just in time before a heavy storm starts, someone remembering something small that you said, a random act of kindness, mastering a new skill, snuggling into a cozy bed at night and so on.

To feel Jackson's lips against mine feels like all of those things and so much more.

Delicate yet passionate, surreal yet real, tantalizing yet gratifying.

Above all, to feel him so close to me feels as though I've found a home that has been there waiting for me all along.

My eyes closed, my right hand reaches to ruffle his hair, and I'm fumbling around because this is the first time I've kissed someone in a long time (not counting Jackson and mine's kiss at the reunion).

But that worry quickly dissipates as I find myself lost in the moment, taking in and savoring the kiss as it deepens. One of Jackson's hands moves lower down to my waist, whilst the other slides up my body, and to say that he is a good kisser is a complete and total understatement.

Then, his tongue gently teases my bottom lip, and I voluntarily part my lips open in response.

And from that point on, the kiss becomes the opposite of sweet and innocent.

Our bodies entangled, we stagger inside his hotel room and the purse slung on my shoulder promptly drops to the floor. Then, as the door slams shut a rush of exhilaration floods through my veins knowing that we're now truly and completely alone.

His tongue swirls against mine, his hands roam my body and his mouth consumes mine in a way as if to say that I'm wholly and only his. Heat runs through my body, and a tiny whimper leaves my mouth as I squeeze my thighs together, feeling a throbbing sensation between my legs.

Slowly, gradually, he pulls apart, his breathing heavy as he stares into my eyes. "Fuck, Bella, I've been resisting the urge to kiss you all night but I can't do it anymore."

"I—I didn't realize how much I wanted this until you kissed me," I gasp.

My confession immediately stirs something within him, because the next moment he pins me against the wall in a single, swift motion, a look of lust dominating his brown eyes as he scans my face. He's thinking, contemplating, assessing what to do next—what to do to me next, to be specific.

I can feel my chest heaving up and down, the uncertainty of what's going to happen next killing me. Bubbles of silence fill the air, coupled with a thick tension, and it's pure torture. I want—no, need—his lips on mine again. I'm craving the taste of him.

A smoldering look enters his face, and his voice carries an almost dangerous, yet alluring tone when he speaks again. "Tell me about the dream you had about me."

My mouth drops open. Oh lord. He knows about that dream. The dream which I may not have done a good job at concealing that time we were at the Maple Leaf Cafe.

But this time instead of embarrassment, I'm feeling something else. Anticipation. Excitement. Euphoria.

If he wants to re-enact that dream, I have absolutely zero objections and will voluntarily cooperate.