thirty-six

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Maddox

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Maddox

Calla's trailer smells like tropical fruits, sugared oranges, and citrus.

We stumble into the trailer, her hands tangled in my hair and her legs wrapped around my waist. Her lips against mine are ferocious, driven with passion and need. I slide my free hand up her body, ready to cup her face and deepen the kiss. But as I walk towards the bedroom, my foot catches on the step and I have to adjust my grip on her to stop us from falling.

My nostrils flare as my hand comes in contact with her boob. While a woman's breasts are not sexual objects, I have to admit I like the feel of her boob in my hand. I keep my gaze locked with Calla's, willing myself to not look down while I cop an accidental feel. I grabbed on to Calla to prevent her from falling. Not to touch her. 

Her gaze flicks down to my hand and then back up to my face. A smile curves her lips.

"I didn't mean to," I blurt.

She throws her head back and laughs, her blonde hair fanning with the motion. "I think we've clarified where we stand, Maddox. You can touch me as much as you want, wherever you want, and however you want." She pauses, a small crease between her brows. "Well, maybe not however you want. I'll tell you if I don't like it or if I really, really like it. I do, however, think you're wasting your time touching me through a sweater and bra."

Her hint is obvious.

Setting her down, I unzip her sweater, watching as she shrugs it over her shoulders and then steps back to remove her sports bra. Although I've already seen her naked, it feels wrong to stare; I avert my gaze to the floor, my cheeks turning pink.

Calla tips my chin up, forcing me to make eye contact with her. "Do you remember our first kiss?" Her thumb strokes the curve of my jaw, and I have to distract myself by toying with the button of her jeans. Her touch can bring me to my knees if I'm not careful.

I hesitate, not wanting to relive the tenderness of bruising along my face or the horrid job I did of putting on makeup. But when I think about Calla and how she came swooping in to improve my day, a small smile appears on my lips. "It was the day you sat me down and did my makeup for me."

"But do you remember it?" she asks, taking another step closer so her chest is pressed against mine. Her hand slips down to the hem of my shirt, and she slips her thumb under, stroking.

"W-What do you mean?" I stutter.

"Do you remember the kiss itself?" She splays her hand across my abdomen, which causes me to grip her hips tighter. I don't know if she's doing this on purpose, to distract us from the tension and nerves of what's coming.

I lick my lips and nod. Of course I remember that kiss. How could I not? As soon as her lips touched mine, after feeling nothing but shame when she saw my bruises, it felt like my heart was kick-starting. All my walls came crumbling down because of one kiss. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was breathing above water.

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