Page 88 of Jump on Three

I turned my head toward him, opening my bleary eyes. “Come, then.” As if I would want to stop that from happening.

Burying his face in the crook of my neck, he thrust three or four more times then stiffened, groaning like a wild being.

I was tingling from head to toe, my thoughts a swirl of bliss, warm from Ivan’s rushed breath and his arms curled around me. I touched his arm, then his shoulder, and finally, his face. Scruff tickled my palm. There was something grounding in it, bringing me back to the present. To Ivan’s bed, his hands on my bare skin, mine on his, our orgasms suffusing the warm air over us, the beats of Avicci playing through his speakers.

His breathing slowed, and he raised his head, surveying me with a pinched, worried expression.

“Are you okay?” he asked roughly.

I nodded, rubbing my feet together in time to the song. “Yes. Are you?”

“I’m—I should not have taken it that far. I didn’t mean to come like that. We should have talked about it first. Blyat.”

My eyes widened. “My small breasts turned you on so much you lost control?”

His short laugh was little more than an exhale. “All of you turned me on. I still should not have allowed it to happen.”

“I’m glad you did.” I raised my head to touch my lips to his. “I liked it so much.”

“You did?”

There was a quiver of uncertainty in his question. I liked that too. Ivan always seemed so sure of himself. Knowing he had doubts made me feel closer to him. We weren’t the same, but we weren’t entirely different species either.

“I did. It was hot knowing I was the one making you lose control. I bet you’re feeling very sticky right now.”

This time, his laugh was longer, and he let his forehead drop to mine. “I am. Stay here while I get cleaned up.”

He disappeared into the bathroom, and I sat up, swinging my feet to the ground. I wiggled my toes, the carpet stiff through my socks. My limbs were languid from that crazy good orgasm, but the urge to move struck me. Ivan’s phone was glowing, drawing me in. I walked over to his desk and picked it up.

A Sam Smith song was playing. One of my favorites. I read the name of the playlist, and my heart thumped inside my chest.

“Evelyn vibes.”

There wasn’t anything groundbreaking in Ivan’s selections, but they were right, and they were me. I would have to make an Ivan playlist. It would take time and thought. My playlist for him couldn’t be any less right than the one he’d made me.

I set his phone down and raised my hands over my head, dancing along to the beat. I kept my eyes open, pinned to the bathroom door so I didn’t get carried away, lost in the music.

Ivan emerged a minute later wearing new sweatpants without a shirt. He grinned when he spotted me dancing and came straight to me. Slipping his arm around my waist, he moved with me. It was like that night in Lyot, except I was in control, my environment peaceful and familiar. I was able to enjoy dancing with Ivan now. Circling my arms around his neck, I sang the few lyrics and synchronized my steps with his. He sang back to me, his wide palm rubbing slow circles at the base of my spine.

When the song ended, he grabbed his phone, lowering the volume but not stopping the music altogether.

“Come here.” He took my hand, leading me to the bed. He sat on the edge, keeping me standing in front of him. “I want to show you something.”

“Okay. Show me.”

Twisting to the side, he reached behind him to poke at the back of his shoulder. “This was my first tattoo. I got it from my cousin when I was fifteen. He was using me to practice on and went deeper than he should have. Touch it and tell me if it feels like anything to you.”

The tattoo was a snake with Cyrillic letters atop. It wasn’t flat. I trailed my fingers over the lines, butterflies waking up in my stomach. As much as I liked the look of his other tattoos, this one felt the best. It gave my senses a boost of serotonin. My toes curled into the hard carpet so I wouldn’t bounce from giddiness.

“I love this,” I murmured in awe.

“It’s a terrible tattoo,” he said.

“Yes, but it feels exactly as it should. Did you ever have one of those touch-and-feel picture books as a child where the ducks had fluffy feathers and dogs had real fur? Sandpaper for the beach, plastic for beach balls? Things like that. Do you know what I mean?”

“I don’t think I had that, but I get what you mean.”

“I’ll order you one. I have to show you. It’s exactly what this tattoo is. It’s supposed to be raised and have ridges, and it does. It makes my brain so happy.”