The First Taste (Slip of the Tongue #2) - Jessica Hawkins Page 0,33
to spend a few more hours with him, wake up to his gorgeous face, roll over, and make love while we’re still half asleep?
My answer is in my questions.
Andrew and I are adults. We aren’t in our twenties anymore, and we know what we don’t want better than what we do.
I follow him into the kitchen and watch him button his jeans. After he runs a hand through his hair, it sticks up slightly longer on one side. I frown. “You may need someone to fix your hair.”
“I love it.”
I raise my eyebrows at him. “You can’t even see it.”
“I don’t need to.” He takes a few steps to close the distance between us, bends down to hug my waist, and lifts me so we’re face to face. “It’s my souvenir.”
“Andrew,” I warn. “Put me down.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He doesn’t move. “First, one last kiss.”
I peck him once on the lips. “There. Put me down.”
“Un-uh.” He walks us to the front door. “As far as last kisses go, that ranks pretty low. Disappointing, even.”
With a sigh and a reluctant smile, I wrap my arms around his neck. “Fine.”
“Now the legs,” he prompts.
“If by ‘one last kiss’ you mean sex . . .”
He chuckles, then cups my ass so I can close my legs around his waist. “That’s better. Come here.”
As if under some kind of spell, I lean in for him. He licks along my bottom lip, and we open our mouths to each other. I can’t tell which of us is moaning, or if we both are, and just like that, it’s over like he promised. Andrew sets me back on my feet.
“There,” he says. “That’s a last kiss I won’t forget.”
“To go with a first kiss I won’t forget.”
“Exactly.” He smiles down at me, and the silence stretches between us. It’s unfair that the more I want him to stay, the surer I am he can’t. I have to bite my tongue to keep from saying never mind. “Right,” he says. “Bye.”
“Don’t fall asleep on the train. There’re some real weirdoes out there this time of night.”
“Thanks,” he says with a hoarse laugh. “Your concern seems genuine.”
I grin. If anyone can handle himself, it’s him. I’m not worried. “Night.”
He chucks me under the chin. “Goodnight, Amelia.”
EIGHT
ANDREW
I’m one of those assholes who likes Mondays as much as Saturdays. Even though it’s never easy to send Bell off to school, I love my work, and there’s nowhere I belong more than at the garage. The best part of my day is right now, when my two worlds collide.
I stand on the corner, smoking my last cigarette of the day. I’m normally able to control my nicotine cravings, but after my cigarette with Amelia, I’ve been finding it harder to resist.
It tastes good. It calms me.
It reminds me of lying in bed next to her.
When a school bus rounds the corner, I put out the cigarette and squint, looking for Bell through the square, tinted windows. The bus stops, and she comes catapulting out, a bundle of energy in a pink and purple backpack. I lift her up.
The driver smiles. “Afternoon, sugar,” she says.
I wave and carry Bell down the block. “Aunt Sadie says you pretend that you quit smoking, but you didn’t really,” Bell informs me. “And she says you have to stop for real.”
“I bet she did.”
“She says it’s disgusting, and you’re killing your lungs with black stuff.”
I sigh. The last thing I need is Bell harping on me about this. I happily changed my entire lifestyle for her. I learned to cook healthy food. I stopped drinking every weekend. I only get to ride my bike when she’s not with me. I don’t get close to anyone who might hurt us. This is one small thing I keep for myself, and I never do it around her.
“Aunt Sadie lied,” I say.
Bell looks skeptical. “I don’t think so. My teacher says smoking is bad for you.” She pulls on my t-shirt. “Please, Daddy. I don’t want you to put black stuff in your lungs. How will you breathe?”
“We’ll see, baby.” Guilt gnaws at my heart—which is surely blackened by tar as well. “How was school?”
“Fine. Miss Hughes told me she wants you to come in for a conference.”
“For what? Were you bad?”
“No,” she nearly yells, completely affronted.
I pull back, sticking a finger in my ear. “Jesus. Calm down.”
“I was good,” she says. “So good, she wants to give me more work.”