“What can I give you? I--"
"You give me everything.”
“There were times, many, many times, when she just didn't get him. She'd heard on numerous occasions that men were bad, wicked creatures, who'd do terrible things at a moment's notice. You wore the wrong skirt or bent over at an inopportune time and BAM. They slipped their penises into you.”
“See—this is the problem. You don’t even get where this is going. You can’t just ask me to come in, or kiss me, or tell me you want to know what smoking pot feels like. When I’m close to you I feel crazy, okay? When you say my name I feel crazy. It’s not…the right thing for you. I don’t think I can just…be your friend.”
“The bath wasn’t the best thing. Lying with him spooned up against her, listening to the rain rattle against the glass and his voice like a rolling wave…that was the best thing.”
“And there was something both frustrating and maddeningly arousing about that. His restraint made something burn low and deep in her belly, and then his mouth, oh God his mouth. He tasted like cinnamon, again, and every now and then he’d pull away, just a little — just enough to make her want to drag him back. Before giving her a teasing lick with that perfect, curling tongue of his. It set all the nerve endings in her upper lip on fire.”
“His voice sounded like molten metal. As if he had something thick at the back of his throat and it was making him sound deeper and richer than he actually was.”
“Ohhhhh Je-sus you’re wet. Oh fuck, you’re so wet, baby. Are you serious with this? It’s all over your legs.”
She blurted the words without thinking.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Before trying to do something mitigating, like closing her legs. Doing so proved hard, however, with him almost between them and his big hands refusing to move from her thighs.
And he looked so…so incredulous too.
“Don’t be sorry. Don’t. You should know it’s hot as fuck that you’re like this. Seriously.” He paused. Seemed to consider, before continuing. “You always like this?”
“Just that one word—sound—sent a strong answering pulse through her body. His tongue curled around syllables that weren’t there, like a promise. This is what you’ll get, if you just let me hear.”
“Dear God, she couldn't give this man sex. She could barely give it to Van, and he currently smelled so good she just wanted to shove her face under his t-shirt and eat whatever she found there.”
“He suggested devils, skulls, harsh masculine drawings. This thing was…heart poundingly good. She wanted to pluck it, and bury her face in it, and keep it in a vase by her bedside.”
“Whereas this…this was wet. His lips sank into a rhythm obviously familiar to him—like a kind of slow rock over her mouth—and there were times when she felt his tongue, hot and slippery. Times when he insinuated himself right against her and that same slipperiness made her go all funny inside.”
“You know it feels good. I can hardly geta…I don’t even…”
There was something amusing about watching him trying to form a coherent sen-tence. Amusing, but arousing at the sametime.”
“Why not? It's true. I don't even laugh for anyone but you."
She hesitated, for that one. Did he really mean that? Surely not.
"Tim seems like a really funny guy." She tried, but all it did was make his mouth form that mean line.
"Tim pees in the kitchen sink."
"Well, okay. I could atleast promise not to do that, but even so-”
“Everything had been cloaked in sensuousness, to the point where details seemed fuzzy and languid.
Like the cuff of his sleeve stroking over the back of her hand, or the feel of his breath stirring against her lips. Her lips had grown seventy thousand nerve endings between yesterday and right now, and they seemed to buzz whenever he moved.”
“I would never forbid you. I can’t forbid you. It’s not in my power to, and it never should be.”
“You don’t even know how lovely you are, my Evie.”
“We’re never doing this again. The next time I leave, you’re coming with me.”
“It’s really kind of you,” she settled on, finally.
But in response he just shrugged. No big deal. The nicest thing anyone had ever done for her was really no big deal at all.”
“God his voice sounded like pouring cream. All rich and thick and good, so good.”
“Evie, stop,” he said between kisses. She should have been relieved. She should have, but really all she could feel was the heavy and constant ache between her legs. How warm it made her feel, how daring.
And of course it only got worse when he said, “God, baby, you’re so greedy.”
It didn’t even humiliate her. Somehow he made it sound like the sweetest, sexiest compliment, and when she pushed a hand through his hair and tried to get him to kiss her again, his lips parted. A ripple seemed to go through his body, as though it affected him as strongly as it affected her.”
“I can’t just live here, Van. I can’t. You know I can’t. What would I contribute? What can I give to you? I—”
“You give me everything.”
“Please don’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s true. I don’t even laugh for anyone but you.”
“Ohhh that’s good. Fuck you’re greedy. What do you want, huh? Tell me what you want.”
“We're being lead by an idiot with a crayon.”
“Everything makes sense when I’m with you, Tess. My life makes sense, after so many years of running scared in the dark. You are the light, the reason I live. I’m bonded to you deep, woman. For me, there will never be another.”
“Kannst Du Dir vorstellen, daß ich es plötzlich nicht mehr ertrage? Vielleicht hättest Du das nicht von mir erwartet, und vielleicht findest Du das blöd von mir, aber ich kann es nicht ändern. Es ist wie mit einem Streichholz: Man kann es zweimal brechen, und die Hälften bleiben aneinander hängen, aber beim dritten Mal, da zerbricht es. In manchen Ländern gibt es kleine Wachsstreichhölzer, die man so lange hin und her biegen kann, wie man will, sie zerbrechen nie, aber so bin ich nicht. Diese Wachsstreichhölzer taugen übrigens nichts, man verbrennt sich immer die Finger daran.”
“He closed by telling us the real battle is won in the mind. It’s won by guys who understand their areas of weakness, who sit and think about it, plotting and planning to improve. Attending to the detail. Work on their weaknesses and overcome them. Because they can.”
“Has joy any survival value in the operations of evolution? I suspect that it does; I suspect that the morose and fearful are doomed to quick extinction. Where there is no joy there can be no courage; and without courage all other virtues are useless.”
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