Ignite

Chapter 47

"That's ridiculous. You're the guest."

"Exactly. I'm not the one who's paying."

"Neither are we. The show flew us in."

I drop the pizza boxes into the recycling bin and walk back over to him, standing above him and trying to look as stern as possible.

"Well, I don't care. I'm sleeping out here."

He sighs, but then he winds an arm around my waist, pulling me down beside him.

"You're pretty stubborn, aren't you?"

I look down, fiddling with the corner of his t-shirt.

"I just don't want your mum to think I'm taking advantage."

"Well, I don't know why you're bothering. She clearly already thinks that, otherwise she wouldn't have given us the whole 'separate beds' spiel."

I jerk away and slap his chest, my cheeks turning beat red, and he starts laughing.

"That's not because of me! It's because of you!"

Lewis laughs harder and when I try to stand up, he grabs me, pulling me back down on top of him.

"I'm sorry," he says around more chuckles.

I glower at him, wishing I was even half as angry as I wanted to be instead of distracted by his body beneath me, but he sobers anyway and one hand comes up to brush my cheek. We're quiet for a moment, staring at each other, and the amusement drops completely from his expression, shallowing into something sweeter.

"I really do like it when you blush, you know," he says, voice low.

The time he'd caught me in the school corridor replays in my mind and my cheeks grow even hotter.

"Once again, that's because it's warm in here," I say, trying not to smile. "It has nothing to do with you."

"Uh huh."

He pulls back, watching me as his hands begin to trace small circles against my hips that make starbursts explode under my skin.

"How about now?"

From the way his mouth has kinked up, I can tell he knows what he's doing.

"Nup. Still just stuffy in here."

He grins and then he stands, grip tightening around my waist so I rise with him.

"Well, we better go out onto the balcony. I'd be a terrible host not to try and solve this 'heat' issue."

He directs me outside, shutting the sliding door behind us, and the breeze brushes cool against my skin. I move to the railing and look out, watching people walk in and out of the bars five floors below, their laughter and voices carrying up to me like water flung into the air.

"Better?" Lewis asks.

I turn back, hand on the rail, to find him watching me. His eyes are dark, reflecting the streetlights below, and my heart starts drumming all the way down to my fingers, until it feels like the pulse is in the rail.

"Yes, this is better."

The breeze picks up a strand of my hair, making it dance in front of my face, and Lewis steps forward, reaching out to push it behind my ear. I watch him, mesmerised by his movements.

"I had a really nice time today," I say softly.

Lewis smiles, his mouth curling in a way that is somehow both adorable and sexy at once. "Me too."

We stare at each other for a moment, the tension thickening, and then he leans down and kisses me.

His lips press against mine, deliberate and unhurried, and instead of filling with nerves and insecurities like last time, I start to melt, leaning into him and letting my hands wander. I trace across his chest, down his arms, and then slowly back up, playing with his hair.

When I give a gentle tug, Lewis lets out a hum of contentment, deep and masculine, and it makes me want to do it again — over and over — so I can keep hearing that noise.

"In the interest of convincing my mum that you're not taking advantage of me," Lewis murmurs into my mouth, "we probably shouldn't be doing this."

I smile, considering his words. He's being so gentle with me, so unbelievably gentle, but I can feel how much he wants to take this up a notch in the trembling of his hands, the hammering of his heart against mine. And for the first time, I realise I want that too.

I know it's dark enough out here that Tarni wouldn't be able to see us over the reflection from inside, and the way the laughter and chatter from below echoes up makes me feel like we're in another world: perfectly alone, but surrounded by happiness and life.

"Maybe I'm not so worried about that anymore."

Lewis sucks in a breath, his hands fisting the fabric at my hips, and I break away from his lips, kissing his jaw and then down his neck. When I hit his collarbone he shudders and it fascinates me that I can do that to him.

"Claude."

His voice is hesitant, the final warning, and I know that if we're going to stop kissing, it should probably happen now.

"Lewis," I say back, matching his serious tone, and then I reach back up to his lips and nip at them.

His self-control slips instantly, his kisses blossoming into a demanding urgency and his hand falling flush against my back and pressing me into him. His tongue flicks across my lips, his body pressing me back until I'm against the rail and he's enveloping me, and I feel every part he touches like his fingers are made of flames.

His hands play with the hem of my jeans and then slip under my shirt, skimming over the places actual fire touched only months before. They brush over my breasts, sliding down my sides, but when he reaches the worst part, where the skin is still buckled and rough, raised with scar tissue, his hands slow, hesitating, and then he pulls back.

I look up at him, my heart suddenly pounding. His eyes are still dark, his mouth swollen and his hair tousled.

"What happened there?" he asks, his fingers ghosting over the damaged skin again.

I swallow, trying to channel the confidence Aleisha always shows with her vitiligo.

"I got burnt during the fire," I say. "They had to give me skin grafts."

Lewis is quiet for a moment and my nerves skyrocket. Suddenly, I'm certain that he's disgusted. That he's realised he's made a terrible mistake and the moment we get back to Sydney he'll never talk to me again.

"I know it's gross," I say, starting to pull away. "You don't have to—"

"Does it hurt? If I touch it?"

"No, but—"

I gasp as he grabs my waist and pulls me back, crashing his lips onto mine mid-speech. For a long time he kisses me, devouring my lips until my head starts to spin, and then he rests his forehead against mine.

"You're beautiful, Claude," he whispers. "You always will be."

My cheeks flush and he grins, running a hand against my cheekbone before leaning in and kissing me again, gently and slowly, and with a sweetness I know I'll remember for the rest of my life.

...

Oop. Little sprinkle of smut to keep things interesting :P  

What do you all think of Lewis and Claude? I love them so much 😌