thing that keeps me afloat. If it weren’t for the buoyancy, I’d be a puddle on the ground right now.
We both draw in air. We’re probably just trading it back and forth between us, really. Everything feels seamlessly synchronized as his lips tangle against mine. If there’s some kind of ideal method for the way people are supposed to kiss, I’m one hundred percent sure Ran has found the perfect formula. Like the necessary ingredients are his mouth, my lips, and this exact moment in time, combined to create this sensation that I didn’t know was possible.
Ran slides back into the slope of the seat and I slink onto his lap, never breaking the connection between us, still absorbing everything I can from his warm lips that taste like honey, sweet and smooth.
I love that he takes the lead—how he uses his hand at my neck to guide me and move me so that our mouths counter the weight, the pressure, and the force of the other. I part my lips, opening my mouth slightly, and feel the edge of Ran’s tongue sliding over my bottom lip. That’s something I’d wanted to do to him since the first night we’d met and he’s beaten me to it. I mimic his movement as soon as his tongue pulls back into his mouth, and I trace the shallow dip in the middle of his full bottom lip, feeling the perfection of it, and it’s even better than I could have ever dreamed. And I’ve dreamt about it. A lot.
My heart flutters and my breathing does the same. The strands of icicles that hang at my back sting my skin and I try to hide the shiver, but I can’t—no matter how hot this tub is, the air that slices against me is freezing.
Like he’s in tune with every single part of me—even my temperature—Ran dips me back, guiding me under the crests and waves of water until just our necks rise above it. I take advantage of the way our bodies wind around one another and brush my hand over the muscles of his chest, running it down to the ripples of his stomach, greedily gliding my hand over every curve. Ran keeps his hands curled around my waist, though I’m guessing he wants to do the same to me. The water disguises the sweat that drenches from my palm, but the beads that form above my lip from the steam are still present. Ran’s breath rushes in and out of him, picking up in tempo, increasing mine right along with it.
For one brief moment he pulls back. “Maggie,” he says against my lips, his voice hoarse and raw. “What are you doing to me?” He grasps me at arm’s length briefly enough to look into my eyes, and the look he gives holds more intensity than our entire kiss. It causes something in me to ache, and I know the only way to appease it is to surrender my mouth to his again.
This time I take charge, my hands on either side of his jaw, pulling his mouth onto mine, letting him know exactly what I want. Ran lets me have my way. He doesn’t lead, but follows me. I suck his upper lip between both of mine, dragging it slightly into my mouth, just enough that the pull draws him closer and forces him to respond. Not that he wouldn’t—our lips have been in perfect unison, reacting to every movement from the other this whole time. I gain confidence and snake my tongue into his mouth. Ran’s slides against mine, exploring every inch of my mouth hungrily. A low noise escapes from his throat and he pulls out of our kiss and says, “This is our limit, Maggie.” He runs his tongue slowly across my lips and I go lightheaded, my heart racing, my breath ragged and shallow. “We have to draw a line, because I’m about to cross it if we don’t put one in place right now.”
I don’t want to draw any lines and I’m all for bounding right through the ones he wants to make, but the tenor in his voice and the way he nearly pleads with me pulls at my core. And unfortunately, it almost turns me on more than our actual make out session. The fact that Ran wants to take things slow is a crazy turn on, which sort of defeats the whole purpose. It’s like some unfair, sexual oxymoron.