he should let go. And he’s going to need convincing that you’ll be okay without him.”
“What do I do? Pretend I don’t need him anymore, so he can let go and die? I couldn’t do that. I need him and he knows it.”
“Yes, he knows it. And for now, he needs you too.”
His hand smoothed over the abused leather of the door. “Sorry. I’m not the tantrum type. I promise.”
He’d changed the subject. She took the hint.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s a tough car.”
“Yeah. My Honda would have been totaled.” He faced her and smiled. Then he looked at her mouth and the smile dropped away. While she watched in fascination, Jamison’s arm snaked behind her. “I’m so glad you were here.” He gave her a little hug.
She hugged him back, wishing so much to have been able to feel the pressure of it. When he eventually loosened his hold, she looked in his eyes. Their faces were only inches apart. She could almost taste the warmth of his skin.
She’d imagined all kinds of cravings, for all kinds of flavors during her short existence, but never for the taste of someone.
He was looking at her lips so intently she didn’t dare move them. His lashes were incredibly long, golden brown. His nostrils flared suddenly and the entire world tilted with his face as he moved forward. His mouth met hers as smoothly as...breathing.
She focused her conscious thought to the rise and fall of his chest, to his nearness, and she could have wept for her lack of taste in her mouth or sensation in her lips. For the first time, she mourned for the depth of experience lost to her. This wasn’t the smell or feel of peaches, or the taste of corn coming apart in her mouth. This was mortality beneath her hands, against her fingers...and completely out of her reach.
He pulled his arms from around her, put his hands to either side of her face, and looked into her eyes. And suddenly Skye felt ‘seen’ for the very first time. She imagined her true self inside her head, jumping up and down, waving at him, yelling, “hello!”
She was struggling for the right words to say; something cool, something appropriate—anything that wouldn’t ruin the memory of her first, and possibly only, kiss. Very soon, they were going to go through Hell together and then she’d take her place in the circle. Nothing could stop either from happening, but she had this one mortal-esque memory she could take with her.
If she didn’t say the wrong thing now.
Her lips moved. No words came out, but the movement got his attention and he pulled her mouth close and kissed her again. For a moment, she imagined a tingling in her toes. She pulled back and wiggled them, testing. Nothing.
“Sorry.” Jamison dragged his hands slowly off her face, like a blind man, memorizing.
“Please don’t be sorry. I didn’t mind.”
Oh great. She may as well embroider “take me, take me now,” on her shirt. He was probably thinking “easy lips, easy hips.”
He was frowning. “Sorry if I’m not any good. I haven’t kissed much.”
She pulled herself back to her side of the car and looked out the window. No one was gawking through the glass, thank Heavens. A nurse made her way across the parking lot and got into her car.
Wow. Even if she had no sensation and no taste, she still realized what an incredible kisser he was. She’d seen women weep over such kisses, and not in the movies, either. His first serious girlfriend was in for a happy surprise. It shocked her, the sudden understanding she had for women eaten alive with jealousy.
He rubbed his hands on the knees of his jeans. Sweaty palms? Nervous maybe? She needed to acknowledge what he’d said.
“I’m sure you won’t be surprised when I tell you I’ve never kissed anyone before, and even I know that was...staggering.”
His hands stopped moving. He turned to her and grinned.
“Staggering’s good, right?”
“Oh, good. Definitely good.”
She gave in and grinned back.
Eventually, he looked away. “Well, I guess I’d better go see him now.” He flicked the door handle.
“Yeah. He’ll be wondering if you’re coming.”
He wasn’t moving. Did he want a kiss good-bye? Oh, wow. Did she want a repeat of ‘staggering’? Of course she did, but should she? Wouldn’t she just be more upset, being deprived again?
What the heck? She could always go pretend to cry in the field, not that it would give her any relief.
Jamison turned to her