He doesn’t utter a single word, his actions speaking for him… and I believe everything he says.
All at once, in a deft arrest I never see coming, I’m hoisted onto his lap, my knees bending and finding their own way around his hips. And I believe him — this is exactly where he wants me to be. Also truthful — he likes my mouth, and loves how my tongue naturally obeys his — the deep groans of male satisfaction I’m swallowing confirming it. And in further proof of what I already knew, Trevor must have control, in every aspect of his life, the two bossy hands tangled in my hair, and their rough tugs of direction an electrifying tell of command.
As he devours my mouth, pausing only to tease my lips with tiny bites, realization of epic, comforting proportions hits me, hard and out of nowhere: I didn’t really lose much at all today. Sure, Ethan took most of the things that matter to him — material items and a sense of victory — but he got nothing, perhaps ever, of what I value. I’m still the kooky, sillyheart who refuses to even stop dreaming, and now, as in right now, my faith is restored — there are people, places, moments and memories to be amongst, found, and enjoyed. It’s never too late to make my own magic. So while the ink on my divorce papers dries, I’ve already gained more than imaginable. A renewed zest, fire, for life. How crazy is that?
I’m not delusional, just inspired, certainly not expecting more from Trevor; but I am soaking up every second of our dance together. Ethan never came at me with half as much passion as Trevor’s treating me to now; not even in the beginning… not even when, fewer and farther between with every year passed, we made love. And I, nor my body, ever lit up for him the way it’s currently glowing now, fully inflamed by only a kiss from Trevor Kincade.
And I want more. Need more. Of this rare, raw energy throttling throughout me.
“Trevor,” I pant, rather than my intended plea, into his mouth, struggling to pull from his grip on my hair. “We, uh, I…”
He’s nodding as he sighs, stealing a few last licks and nips of my mouth before relaxing his hold and meeting my gaze. “You needn’t say anything more, beautiful,” he exhales heavily, shoving a hand through his own hair. “I know, and I apologize. I-”
“No, don’t apologize!” My huff’s paired with a small slap to his chest. “That means sorry, and I’m not. Are you? Are you sorry we just kissed?”
“Not. At. All.” His eyes darken to match his growl and hone in on mine, as if scrutinizing my reaction as he slides his tongue across his lip, tasting me there. “Nor will I ever be. However, I am sorry to have bombarded you, completely disregarding your comfort zone for my own selfish desires.” I shake my head, and snicker. “Does my groveling amuse you, Lily?”
“Yes,” I immediately reply in a full laugh.
“And why is that?”
I hold up a finger, asking him to wait as I settle my laughter. “That was nowhere near groveling, Trevor. It’s impossible to actually grovel and narrate the dictionary at the same time. Face it; you, sir, are incapable of groveling. And while I’m at it, here’s another thing…” I try to think up some impressive phrasing, but easily bore with the effort, “you can take what you assume to know about my comfort zone, and, and stick it where the sun doesn’t shine!”
His eyebrows spring up in surprise, his hands finding my hips and bearing down. “I beg your pardon?”
“Granted.” I snicker again, tapping his forehead. “You’re pardoned, kind sir. And, bequeathed, or beseeched… whichever one means asked, to turn off all versions of your manners, modern and medieval, and listen to me for a second; I need to get this out and off my chest before proceeding without caution, okay?”
He bobs his head once, wrestling with a smirk, hands moving from my hips to around my back, his arms now my own little circle… where I can be who I want.
To dodge my nerves, and his curious stare, I fiddle with his tie, loosening the silk knot for him. “I’ve been out of my comfort zone, literally, since before the moment we met, Trevor. Do you not remember how very uncomfortable, for everyone, my grand entrance onto the plane was?” I lift my eyes so they, too, can ask.
“Grand indeed,” he smiles, “and adorably captivating. I could never forget it, even if I had the slightest desire to try.”
“Well then,” I scoff, “you’d be spellbound if you ever watched me try to do Zumba. It’s quite the spectacle; trust me. In fact, I may have just sprained something even thinking about it. I still can’t believe they don’t make you sign a waiver. They’re just begging for lawsuits.”
“Absolutely captivating,” he murmurs, as though to himself, cinching his arms tighter around me. “Where have you been hiding, my precious Lily?”
“I wasn’t hiding. I just, no one ever looked for me, and that’s okay. I’m actually glad they didn’t, because now… now I get to find myself.”
“Tell me what that means,” he says, rather than asks, with genuine interest.
“This whole thing; I’ve learned a lot in a little time, and surprisingly enough, uncomfortable is starting to fit pretty well. I thought I was afraid of flying, until I sat down next to you. Not that we flew anywhere,” I laugh, “but had we, I’d have been just fine. And while the old Lily is still lecturing the new one for all the crazy risks she’s managed to pack into the last few days, I can’t say I regret any of them. Who gets in a stranger’s car, cruises around in lingerie, then rides said stranger’s lap like a horny cowgirl right after her divorce? Not me, that’s for sure. Or so I thought. But I did, all those things, and, and I’ve never felt more alive in my life. Especially since you didn’t turn out to be a serial killer, and I am, in fact, alive.”
He pulls me closer, pressing his forehead to mine as he lightly chuckles. “I’m very pleased to hear you feel that way. You deserve the best of what life has to offer, Lily; lavish, extraordinary experiences that can only hope to compete with your amazing spirit. And I would be more than happy, honored, to continue showing you such.”
This is it, my opening, that I’m going to dance through… dance in absolute abandonment, losing myself and all sense of reason, but only sense of reason — I want to expose and memorize everything else — exactly how Trevor Kincade sounds, smells, tastes, feels, while in the throes of what I suspect will be utter ecstasy.
I do have intentions of changing, in many ways, but I’m not going to kid myself; I won’t be able to keep my emotions out of this. I’ll carry it with me for the rest of my life… and I’m okay with that too. I don’t want to change that part of myself; who would? Without emotion, you lose instinct, intuition… and your soul. No, the only thing about my emotions that needs altered, slightly is my control over them. And that I can do, am already doing, aware and accepting of what this, with Trevor, will and will not mean. But if I’m leaving this town all but empty-handed, thrown a few leftover scraps of the empty life I tried so hard to fill, then by God, I’m at least taking this with me — “That one time I celebrated my divorce by having sex with a suave, near-stranger in the back of his car.” I like it; an excellent start to my new resume.
I tug his tie through his collar and tease trembling fingers at the top button of his shirt. “Show me,” I whisper, my lids as heavy as the nerves in my voice. “Show me right now, Trevor, please.”