His lips trail down my neck, sending shivers all over.
"I love looking at you," he breathes, brushing the hair off my shoulders. "Will you let me look at you?"
My heart hammers, a wild thing seeking his. "Yes."
So he does. And I feel it. For a long...
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______________ In the end, there were two things: her, and my love for her. ______________
NOAH
St. Patrick's Day isn't a real holiday. Not to me. It's an excuse for bars to sell cheap green beer and for Fox to call himself "half-Irish" because he visited Dublin once.
The crackle of eggs in the pan and the scent of butter fill the kitchen as I slide a spatula beneath the edges. Not green.
I was hoping to let the day pass without fanfare.
But this is my girlfriend.
Her bedroom door slams open down the hall, and there she is: lime green hoodie and a manic grin plastered across her face.
"WHY AREN'T YOU WEARING GREEN?!"
I blink, spatula pausing mid-air. Her hair. Her curls are gone, replaced by this sleek waterfall of perfection that falls past her waist. My brain stutters. She looks... different. Stunning, yes. But I miss her curls.
Damn it, this sleek look reminds me of a certain night in the closet. Her pinned beneath me, fingers tugging my hair, my face buried between her thighs.
She jogs over, brandishing a plastic bag of things. "God, I love you in blue." Her hands tug at the soft navy shirt I'm wearing. "It's hot. Something about the—No! That's not the point!"
I steal her hand to kiss it. The grin stretching her lips, the gap between her teeth peeking out—it's impossible not to smile with her.
She hops up onto the counter, legs swinging, green socks scrunching at her ankles under dark sweatpants. The bag rattles as she digs into it, pulling out what looks like paint.
Ah, shit.
"Come here." Her brows wiggle, daring me.
I lean against the counter, arms crossed. "No."
Before she can snap, the front door bursts open. Fox and Charlie are back from their run.
Charlie bounds in, his tail wagging so hard he's spinning. Fox stumbles in after him, panting, his hair damp with sweat, a white T-shirt clinging to his chest.
He meets my eyes for a moment, and I see it. That sadness. That ache. He masks it remarkably quickly.
"G'day to ya!" Fox greets in a surprisingly accurate accent, ruffling his hair with one hand.
Cam claps her hands, delighted. "Thank you, Freckles!"
I lean down to say hi to Charlie, patting his side.
"Ooh, we doing face paint?" Fox grins at the palette in Cam's hands before pulling off his shirt. He walks over and wrings it out in the sink.
