His & Mine | Sequel to Make It Known | DISCONTINUED

Chapter Twenty-Two: Valentine's, Part II

Chapter Twenty-Two: Valentine's, Part II

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Ophelia:

The entire drive back to Luke's house, my body is just so warm and there's this tugging, tingling feeling between my legs that I know means that... I want things. To do things, with him.

He plays some music (he has excellent taste in music) as I explain some details of the play to him, about Shakespeare and iambic pentameter but, at the back of my mind, I'm preoccupied with the anticipation of us alone in his room together, at night, when the world outside is dark and suggestive and cold while his body is warm and solid and sure.

This neediness I feel, this longing and want and desire... it's heady and achy and floods me with heat and I can hardly wait to get my hands on him and that's kinda a scary feeling when I think about it.

His parents aren't home yet when we get there. We shed our boots and coats and pass through the kitchen on the way to his room, only to find a plate of chocolate-covered fruit with a note that says "enjoy, xoxo Mum"

"Your parents are the best," I decide. Aunt Vicky loves baking. She coated strawberries and pineapple slices and pieces of green-apple with lush dark chocolate, drizzled them artfully with white chocolate and they looks so yummy that, uh, I momentarily forget about my other plans for tonight.

"Yeah, I guess they're pretty great," he begrudgingly admits. "Do you want some tea or milk or coffee or something?"

We end up sitting at the kitchen counter stuffing our faces with the fruit and chasing it back with some hot tea, laughing maniacally about the time I was nine and he was eleven and we tried baking cookies that failed epically. Darcy was supposed to be "babysitting" us at our house, but instead he was playing video games and Luke and I didn't know what we were doing and made these disgusting, burnt blobs of dough and chocolate chips and egg shells.

Our parents, who went off to a funeral or something, were not impressed when they returned.

Luke's phone buzzes. He pulls it out of his back pocket and as his gaze skims over the screen, he flushes and rolls his eyes. "Your brother thinks he's hilarious."

Oh no. "What did he say?"

He shows me the message on his phone that reads, "wrap it before you tap it or else I'll chop it off, asshat"

Oh lord. I blush. "That's highly unnecessary."

He might be... inebriated, actually, now that I think about it. My brother isn't the biggest fan of Valentine's Day.

Plus, uh, Sienna met a guy in her nursing program at York a couple weeks ago and they've started going out and so she and Darcy are not hooking up any more and, uh. He seems a little frustrated.

"How do I even reply to that?"

He settles for, Yes, Daddy Darcy and I stifle a giggle into my palm, imagining the chagrined look on my brother's face.

And then Luke turns towards me and I giggle some more because he has some chocolate smudged on his top lip.

I lean towards him as he sits on the barstool beside me, our thighs brushing. "Here," I murmur, "You have some..." I hold his chin with two fingers and close the distance so I can softly suck the sweet smear off his lip with both of mine. Something erupts low in my gut and his eyes are darker, wide with surprise, as I pull away and rub the spot with my thumb to make sure it's all gone. "Some chocolate, on your lip," I explain breathily.