“I know enough.”
With each word she’d spoken, the growing, bubbling tension spilled between us. Her eyes grew wide when she realized what was about to happen, how I was about to take out everything I’d ever kept inside for the past year on her small, beautiful face but she didn’t break away. No, she crept even closer so I slammed my mouth to hers, breathing her in so deeply, I swear I could feel her heartbeat on my tongue. My hands held her jaw and as softly as I could manage, I guided her to her feet, never breaking our kiss. I trailed my fingers down her neck, to her backside and lifted her. She wrapped her incredibly long legs around my waist and I fell to the bed behind me.
We sat there, trading sighs, trading wants, trading intentions. It seemed so incredibly inevitable to me then, how our lives were going to be forever entwined. I knew this was the last person I’d ever kiss, could feel it in my bones, and it was with January MacLochlainn, the most amazing girl I’d ever laid eyes on.
Was I in love with January MacLochlainn? No, I couldn’t say I was...but I was going to be. Make no mistake about that.
January
Thomas Eriksson was the last first kiss I was ever going to have. I don’t know how I knew it but I could feel it in my bones. A delicious symphony resounded through my head, swum down my body and back through, over and over. The soundtrack to what our life was to become played beautifully around us and I wasn’t afraid. And I could tell, neither was he.
We fit so incredibly well together, it was borderline painful.
Our make out session wound down to a comfortably slow back and forth, our lips achingly raw but neither of us feeling the pain. His light stubble scratched at my chin and I reveled in that feeling. I was kissing a man. The idea made me stupidly giddy inside as if I had any real idea what that really meant. All I knew was I had moved on from a "never" mentality to a very solid "please, please, please" one. I held on to his hoodie tightly between both hands, too frightened to unclench them and draw down his zipper, all his zippers. Do it, January, I ordered myself.
But Tom drew away from me slowly, peppering my neck with soft kisses that made me melt from the inside out. My heart and guts were a soft, liquefied mess and I loved the sensation.
“It’s late,” he whispered hoarsely. The deeper octave sending shivers up my spine.
“So what,” I offered, drawing his lips back to mine.
“Not ‘so what,’” he said, chuckling against my mouth, making me laugh along with him. “Come on, love. Let’s sleep.”
“Sleep?” I asked in disbelief.
“Yes, I must save you from me. Another minute and you’d be in peril, Miss MacLochlainn.”
“I like a bit of danger, though,” I said sleepily, as he brought me to his chest.
I felt it shake beneath me. “I imagine you’d be quite the daredevil, actually.”
“I’ve a beautiful cape I could wear,” I teased.
“Shut up,” he snickered. “Sleep, January,” he said, a final kiss at my temple.
And I did, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I could have sworn he’d whispered, "You’re too beautiful to sully,"
I woke to Thomas talking on the phone, to Jason it sounded like. “Georgia Asher, yeah, definitely want her immediately. She’s versatile enough that she’d be welcomed internationally with absolutely no problem. What? Oh, uh, Let Them Eat Cake, but they’re not as commercial as Seven usually likes. You might have to finesse them a bit.” Pregnant pause. “No, I told you, forget about The Mark, Jonah is wrong. Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn ya’. Yeah, I’ll tell her. Bye.”
I felt his cell phone drop on the bed as soft swishes of cloth slid into the bottom of his duffel. I turned over and stretched out, my legs practically shot two feet off the end of my bed.
“How did we both sleep on this tiny nothing,” I said out loud, my voice hoarse from disuse.
“Well, that leg was wrapped around mine,” he said, pointing to each part as he continued his explanation, “that stomach was pressed to mine, that beautiful face was buried in my neck. It was the best and worst night’s sleep of my life.” I smiled. “Good morning,” he said, smiling back.
“Morning, Tom. How much time do we have?”
“’Bout an hour.”
“I’m gonna shower then.”
“All right, I’ll go check out downstairs while you do that.”
“Thank you,” I told him, kissing his cheek as I trudged toward the shower.
Chapter Eight
Take A Picture
January
We were on the road and headed toward the Channel Tunnel an hour later. I made sure I had all my meds with me but Tom assured me the ride was exponentially smoother than a water voyage and it would take us straight to Paris in only two and a half hours. I knew Europe was small but it was flabbergasting to think I could go from London to Paris in the time it takes to watch a film. Okay, the film would be Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, but still, that’s pretty amazing.
We dropped the car off at the rental place and cabbed it over to the Chunnel station. The entire process from leaving the hotel to boarding the train took less than an hour. I was impressed, thoroughly. Impressed because everything we did in Texas seemingly took a day’s commitment. One, because everything is twenty miles away regardless of where you’re going but also, to be honest, we just move slower than the rest of the world. It’s why we’re incorrectly pegged as slower thinkers. We aren’t. In fact, we’re sharper than most people; we just take our time, fewer mistakes that way. I think I sort of preferred it that way, but a little change of pace was always nice. Always.
We boarded the Eurostar and easily found our seats.
“Comfortable?” Tom asked.
“Very,” I said, laying my head on his shoulder and whipping out a bag of Twizzlers I brought from home. “Want one?
“Always.” He reached into the bag and pulled out a vine. That’s when I noticed it.
“Your jacket’s unzipped.”
“So it is,” he said, glancing down at himself, not realizing the significance.