2022 WATTYS SHORTLISTED || After being forced into a marriage by her devoutly religious parents, Aspen's husband is diagnosed with a life-limiting illness, and she must find her purpose as well as fight feelings for her husband's nurse. || Aspen Wat...
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"I'd say this was a successful date." Nick chuckles when he moves away from my lips. I chuckle and look down, my forehead brushing against those luxurious lips. He takes the opportunity to press a kiss onto it.
"I think so," I agree. His gaze burns hot, and those two pools of liquid gold attract me like a magnet and melt me with them until we're one bubbling puddle.
"Was it good enough for a second date?" he whispers. His finger guides my chin up so I can feel his breath beating against my mouth. My lips part a little so I'm breathing his words in, savouring them on my tongue like sweets.
"I—absolutely," I whisper with a sly smile.
"Good." He reaches down and claims my lips again with his marshmallow ones. Marshmallows taste good in every way: on their own, heated on a fire, in chocolate, melted, on hot chocolate. Just like marshmallows, I imagine Nick's lips would taste sweet in any and every way.
His hand snakes around my waist, but not before slipping underneath the hem of my blouse. My skin tingles underneath his touch, and I feel my nerves singing to life as his other hand follows suit. My tongue dives into his mouth, needing to feel more of him, needing to feel more than just his marshmallow exterior.
I feel him guiding me towards the seat behind him. His hands leave my skin as he pulls me with him so I'm on top of him. My hand does what it's been craving for ages, and tangles in his blonde angelic curls as I get lost in the taste of red wine, pasta, and desire. His hand brushes up my skin like a paintbrush, making sketches on my skin and watercolour puddles on my insides as the nerves and desire become one with every touch.
"Aspen, wait—" he breathes, breaking away from me. An involuntary whimper leaves when he does, though I can see the hunger in those golden eyes.
"What?"
"You said you wanted slow. This isn't slow," he reminds me. "We carry on and I'm going to want more. I, uh, already do."
I slump and reluctantly pull myself off him. He smiles as he stands up.
"I usually wait for the third date," he jokes.
"How very gentlemanly of you! If we're going down that route, we're basically on our seventh date." I snort.
My phone buzzes, and I see it's my mum. 'How is Joel doing? We have been praying for him.' I roll my eyes and put it away.
"It's not that I don't want to," he assures me.
"I know that; I could quite clearly, uh, feel that you wanted to," I tease, and move my eyes down to the evidence. "You're right, though. I made the mistake of rushing before. I don't want to make the same mistake twice."
