Page 63 of Stolen Dreams
Th-thump, th-thump, th-thump.
My heart rattles my rib cage as my lungs beg for air. Eyes rolling closed, I get lost in his proximity, the way he makes my blood sing, his sweet and spicy scent.Him.
Ray is the sun—radiant and warm, steady and constant, essential and boundless—and I am but a planet basking in his glow, grateful to be in his orbit, anchored by his intensity.
His fingers trail up my arm from my elbow. Unhurried. Unmistakable. A transcendental caress.
Goose bumps dance over my skin as a shiver rolls up my spine.
“Mmm,” he hums near my ear. “You have no idea what that little shiver does to me, Fire Eyes.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask, but as I inhale a shaky breath, Tucker calls me from the living room.
“Miss Kaya…” he says my name with fussy impatience. “Come on.”
Ray’s hand falls away as he snorts under his breath. Tipping his head toward the living room, he shuffles back and reaches for my dishes. “Go.” His fingers stroke mine as he takes the plate from my hand. “Or we’ll never hear the end of it.”
At a loss for words, I swallow, nod, and release my grip on the plate. Blink out of my foggy state and attempt to compose myself as I spin and amble toward the living room.
Several negotiations later, Tucker and I agree on the same superhero movie. He insists we leave the lights off so it feels like we are at the movie theater. A great idea, I concur and take a seat on one end of the couch, Tucker sitting in the middle.
Salty butter wafts through the room as Ray enters with a bowl of popcorn and two glasses. He hands Tucker the bowl and insists he swaps seats with me on the couch so he’s closer to the end table. Ray hands me a glass of wine, takes the now vacant seat, and presses every possible inch of himself to me. Not a breath exists between us.
The movie blurs as superheroes fly across the screen. Character conversation echoes through the speakers, but I don’t catch a word of it.
In this atomic blip in time, all I can focus on is the way his body feels pressed against mine. The heat wave pulsing between us. The turbulent whir of energy beneath my skin and in my bones. The faint crackle in the air as his hand drifts closer, closer, closer. My ragged breaths mingling with his. And then hisfingers weave through mine. Slowly. Impeccably. I melt into his touch, so intimate, so intense, yet nowhere near enough.
Time is measured in staggered breaths and inconsistent heartbeats. Every stroke of his thumb sparks a new fire. Every ounce of his weight has me weeping for more. The movie drags on far too long, but the entire room comes into hyperfocus when Ray shifts and leans impossibly closer, his lips at my ear.
“He’s out.” Inching back, his penetrating gaze pins me in place. “Sit tight while I put him in bed?”
Buzzed from his proximity, his touch, and a little from the wine, I nod.
He sets his glass on the table, pauses the movie, scoops Tucker up from the couch, and pads across the room to the stairs. When he disappears from view, my breath catches in my throat.
Since our kiss in the kitchen, every heated glance, every fevered touch, every strategically spoken word has been a match strike to the kindling that is our next step. The most tantalizing foreplay. And I’m on the literal cusp of shattering.
I want him. Need him. More than air. More than anything.
Is it too soon to take the next step? Every cell in my body screams to leap, to claim him. Unfortunately, my mind isn’t fully on board.
Yes, Ray and I are the epicenter of our relationship. But it’s foolish to ignore the aftershocks of each step we take. One wrong shift could set off an endless chain reaction. We may be the core, but everything we do impacts more than just us.
Before we make the first ripple, I need to know if we’re both on the same wavelength. With this, we can’t assume.
Light footsteps echo nearby, and I become keenly aware of Ray moving through the dimly lit room. Neither of us says a word as he resumes his spot next to me on the couch. As hisleg, hip and arm wedge mine. As our heavy breaths and my thunderous heartbeat steal my hearing.
The television screen saver kicks on, darkens the room further, and I gasp. The air crackles, charges, takes on a life of its own. Perspiration licks my skin as the couch dips, and I’m hyperaware of his chest pressed to my arm. Of his calloused skin on mine as he laces our fingers.
My breaths come in short, stuttered sips as I twist to meet his gaze in the dark. And when our eyes lock, I stop breathing altogether.
Intense and palpable, hiswant, hisneed, hisachereflects my own.
With a single look, any concerns I had vanish.
Inch by drawn-out inch, he eviscerates the last bit of distance between us, the soft thrum of anticipation swirling in my belly. My eyes fall shut a breath before soft, warm lips sweep mine in a chaste caress. Taking a small taste. Hinting at what’s to come.
Cupping my cheek, he changes the angle of the kiss, holds me steady, keeps me in his control. In a matter of heartbeats, the kiss turns unyielding, insistent. A moan rumbles his chest, his tongue darting out and trailing the seam of my lips in silent permission.