Addicted z.m

Chapter 27

The feeling of his hands was so familiar, yet felt like he was touching me for the first time. The rough grass beneath me was just a mere discomfort compared to what was happening above. Tonight, I didn't care, and that tended to be an after affect of being around Myles or anyone from home.

I didn't dare think her name. If I did, the only thoughts going through my mind would be how many times she'd been in this same position with him. I was doing this in spite of myself.

This would be the last time, I promised myself. This would be our departure. I would be able to handle being alone with him without getting too close.

Why were we so irresistibly drawn to each other? And why couldn't we just admit that to ourselves?

Because we're both stubborn, and we both know that. It's a matter of acting on these feelings and plummeting to a relationship's inevitable doom or slicing the rope that kept us bound to each other, letting go of all responsibility to the other. The problem with the latter, is that it wasn't guaranteed that the slicing of that rope wouldn't involve injury to one or the other.

Right now, these odds didn't matter. What mattered was his lips on mine and the undesirable pleasure she gave me, emotionally and physically.

*

He continued to kiss my cheek and my jaw and my neck, moaning softly. "You taste like tap water," he mumbled.

I giggled. "That's what happens when you go swimming in a random stream."

He chuckled against my skin then continued to kiss me. "How are you feeling?"

I smiled, playing with his hair. I stared at the full moon that had moved from its previous spot. "Over the moon."

"I'd bet it's almost three in the morning," he whispered. "You should get some sleep."

I lifted his head out of the crook of my neck to see his face and smirked. "What makes you think I could sleep after that?"

He smiled before kissing my nose. "Go to sleep and dream, and this night will never have to end."

"Until I have to open my eyes," I complained.

He placed his lips on mine, pressing his body into mine. His hair was still damp, my fingers ran through it smoothly. Then, all too soon, he broke away, standing up. He pulled on his shorts and shirt and slipped on his shoes. He rerurned to me and held out his hands. I grasped onto them as he pulled me up.

"I don't want to go," I frowned.

He kissed my pouting lips then picked up my shirt. "All good things must come to an end."

I smirked. "Who said it was 'good'?"

"You did, when you were moaning my name," he fired back.

I shoved his shoulder then put on my jeans. He kept a firm hold on my hand as we made our way back to the campgrounds.

"This departure feels wrong," I expressed my uneasy feeling.

"What's so wrong about it?" He asked.

I shrugged. "It feels so. . . undeclared."

"Why?" His eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Because we're not yelling at each other?"

That was exactly it. When we fought, the declaration of an end felt so real - like that would actually be the end, though it never was. This. . . This felt like we would wake up the next morning and pick up where we left off tonight.

"Do you want to have an argument?" he offered. "Because we can have one if you'd like. It's not that hard to argue with you. I'll just say all the wrong things whilst you spit out the truth."