Indie
THE WARMTH OF THE TRUCK seeps into my skin and suddenly, I don’t want him to leave. A deep ache spreads in my chest, a vivid nostalgia that reminds me of my childhood. I was never very good at letting go. Always walking on a tightrope, balancing between living in the moment and never wanting it to end.
I turn to face Jem. “Stay over?”
In the dim streetlight, his expression is impassive. “You’re making it very hard for me to be a gentleman right now, Indie.”
“Scar’s not at home.” I shrug, and then turn to offer him a pointed look. “And someone fixed my heating.”
Light enters his eyes. “Hope he did a good job.”
I suppress a smile, playing along. “He did.”
“Is he your boyfriend?”
“Not yet,” I echo lightly.
Jem clicks his tongue. “He’s an idiot.”
I lift a brow. “Why?”
“For waiting so long.”
I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips.
“If the spot is still open,” he asks, gingerly, his silver gaze on me, “can I take it?”
A warm spiral cuts through my chest, and my throat goes dry, but I somehow manage to conjure up the words. “I would like that. A lot.”
The corner of his mouth lifts.
“In that case,” he says, “I’ll stay over. As your boyfriend.”
My cheeks literally hurt from how hard I have to suck them in to keep myself from grinning. It starts to snow lightly, and Jem gets out, rounding the front of the truck to open my door and help me out.
He doesn’t let go of my hand as I walk up the stoop, or the whole time we’re in the elevator. When I move to unlock the apartment door, he comes up behind me, settling his hands on the side of my hips as he toys with the hem of my sweater. My breaths come out shallow.
The rough pads of his thumbs make contact with the skin on my waist, tracing circles lightly. Blood rushes to the surface of my skin, and I lose all coherent thoughts, my hands shaking as I fumble with the keys.
Finally, and by some miracle, I get the door open.
He’s on me in an instant.
A surprised gasp escapes me, and he swallows it with his mouth as I kick the door closed behind me. Fervor bursts inside me like a flame, and I open my mouth. Jem makes a sound at the back of his throat. His tongue slips into my mouth, claiming and desperate, soft and wet.
Even after all this time, his height jars me. When we stand, I have to go on my tiptoes to kiss him. He tastes like salted caramel. I pull him deeper into me, melting against his chest.
I can feel the distinct prod of his bulge of his length against my thigh. He moans in my mouth, the sound low and guttural, sucking on my tongue. A heavy weight pulses between my legs.
Jem backs me up to the kitchen counter. “I could fuck you right here.”
His voice is thick. Heavy. My heart leaps in my chest, and in a moment of weakness, I almost let him do just that. But then I remember that I have a roommate, and I manage to mumble, “My room.”
We’re still touching each other as we tumble into my room. It’s pitch black, so I switch my night lamp on so we can see where we’re going. What we’re doing. My lips are buzzing, and in the faint glow of the night light, his lips look plump and swollen, his eyes a liquid silver.
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Fragile Little Things ✓
RomanceIndigo Gallagher was born with osteochondroma, a condition that leaves her physically fragile. Between shifts at her granʼs flower shop and her tumultuous relationship, all she wants is to get through her second year of pre-med unscathed. Although...
