Chapter 28

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my writing is messy and sloppy and horrible: love me anyways?? just ignore how i change from present to past tense, i wrote this at all different times and it got all trippy. this chapter is a drama llama

Chapter 28

Recap:

              "I won't, I promise," he whispered and my knees shook slightly and he kissed the corner of my mouth. And then the other corner. My breath hitched.

               His hands were on my hips, his thumb slipping between my jeans and the hem of my shirt and it felt like my whole body had been electrified, like the whole world was slowing down and everything was humming. And then he's kissing me and I can barely catch my breath when he pulls away to kiss the side of my neck before he's back again and kissing me hard and everywhere he touches he leaves a trail of fire right after it. And I feel him trying to shove my shirt up.

               And I faintly wonder if I'm going to have sex with him against this house.

 * * *

I felt like I was going to die, or explode. Or maybe both. He kisses me and nips at my lip, and it's decided. Definitely going to die. And explode. Both. I am going to do both.

"I—you, we—" I couldn't finish sentences but it appeared that now would be the time where I couldn't shut up, an endless stream of cut off words and gasps falling from my mouth like I couldn't control it.

Finally, Nash seems to notice something other than my bare skin and puts a hand to my mouth but gently with a small smile on his face, like I was endearing or charming, and not just plain loud and annoying. He's just staring at me and he is so beautiful. And while I pondered how it could possibly be me—out of everyone, me—he suddenly stopped, leaning back and smoothing my shirt into place again, brushing back the hairs on my face that were out of control.

"What, no," I said like it was a reflex. He kissed me again, just once but it seemed to last infinitely. I could still feel the pressure on my lips when he pulled away, my heartbeat making my lips throb. I could feel my heart beating all the way down to my toes.

"Not here," he murmured, his eyes flicking from my lips to my eyes, and then back again, and my body seemed to ignite on fire from just that. Our fingers brushed briefly, and then he was grabbing my hand, holding it tightly, his thumb stroking mine like he just needed to remind me that he was here. Like I could ever possibly forget.

And then he leaned his face close, just close enough for our noses to brush and he traced the tip of his nose up my jaw like he couldn't pull himself away. Like he was anchored to where he was standing and his eyelids were half closed. He groaned deep in his throat, hands grabbing me up for one second.

And then he was pulling me along with him, and he spared me one last glance, a curl of his lips, and then we were walking. 

Everything was pretty much fucked up, but this, I realized slowly, was the one thing that was slightly less, you know, fucked. His hand holding mine, every few minutes he tightened and then relaxed his hold and I did the same. Every time his thumb stroked the back of my hand, it was there, I love you

So this. This was slightly less fucked up. Even more, this was good. Great.

I didn't feel nervous as he led me up the back stairs where no one ever used in his house, and he almost tripped down the stairs because his legs were so long I swear he couldn't control where they went sometimes. And I laughed so hard it hurt my cheeks. And he glared but I knew it wasn't real, not really. I wasn't scared when he kissed me and his hand was shaking a little bit from nerves on my jaw. I steadied his hand with mine and I loved that I had to tip toe to really kiss him.

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