Chapter Thirteen: Cold

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Chapter Thirteen: Cold

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Ophelia:

I've been pretty busy lately doing my normal stuff, you know? Soccer practice a couple nights a week, a game on the weekends. Working at the local library twice a week, writing the book-review for my school paper. Yoga once a week with Celine, volunteering with a program to help little kids with learning disabilities learn to love reading and... Luke.

Did I ever mention how much I love having a boyfriend? How much I love my boyfriend?

He's been pretty busy too since he started his new part-time job with that local engineering firm. He was explaining to me what his job is the other day... something that involves being on a construction site. Except since it's still pretty cold outside, they've mostly had him in the office doing some admin stuff, I think.

He says he's learned a lot so far, and that it's great experience, and I'm happy he's happy.

We both have some time to hang out on Wednesday after school. I drive over to his house, park outside just as he's pulling into the driveway.

Oh, he's wearing his construction uniform. And he looks really... hot.

Tan work-boots, black cargo pants, a bulky grey sweater thing, a short, thick brown jacket. Makes him look so... big and strong. He sent me a picture the other day where he was wearing his hard-hat and neon safety vest, too. I guess they had him working outside today.

He shoots me a grin when he sees me, except aw, he looks kinda tired. We walk up to the front door together and he grabs my hand along the way.

Dang, it's cold out. Beginning of February is like, the worst. He shuts the door after us and we pull off our shoes and hang up our coats and he tugs me tight against him and I squeal as he picks me up, spins me around a little.

I haven't seen him since he came to my soccer game on Sunday, a couple days after he and Darcy and Sienna went out for drinks.

"Hey, you," he smiles, putting me down and sifting a big hand into the back of my hair, tilting my head back and kissing me, slowly but thoroughly. His lips are kinda cold and a little chapped from being outside so much.

When he pulls away, I notice has a little streak of dirt above his left eyebrow, and something sooty across the bridge of his nose. I giggle, wet the tip of my thumb in my mouth so I can rub the filth away. His face is cold, too.

"Luke, you're freezing," I sigh, winding my arms tight around his middle. "Why are they making you be outside when it's so cold out?"

He chuckles a little, presses a soft kiss to the top of my head. "It's not actually that bad. We have space heaters and stuff. But yeah, it was... cold."

His body is so solid and hard and strong... And he smells like... earth, and a little sweaty, and kinda smoky, but not in a bad way.

"Maybe we should warm you up," I say, butting my head against his chest.

A small, low hum vibrates from the back of his throat that sends shivers down my spine to settle all tingly in the pit of my stomach. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well..." I lean up and he tilts down and the tips of our noses brush together. His nose is cold, too. "Your face is cold. And your lips are cold."

"Oh, I have an idea." His lips tilt up into a crooked, naughty grin.

"Tea? Coffee?" I breathe coyly. A breathless laugh falls from deep in my chest when he swings me up suddenly into his arms, carries me like some kinda caveman to his bedroom and deposits me onto his bed.

"Let me just change out of my work clothes and then you can help me warm up, okay?" Another lopsided smirk that makes my heart beat really hard and fast in my chest.

I lay on my belly, leaning my head in my hands, elbows sinking into the mattress, and watch as he walks over to his dresser, pulls out a black t-shirt and some grey sweats, rest them for a sec on top of the open drawer.

I'm biting my lip, feeling suddenly very... warm. Before I can stop myself, I say, "You can change here if you want. I'll close my eyes or turn around or..."

A small, rough laugh. "Is that your way of saying you wanna see me naked?"

I blush so hard, bury my head in the cool, soft fabric of his duvet. "Not completely naked."

I look back up in time to see him pulling his sweater and thermal undershirt up off his shoulders in one fluid, easy motion, tossing them into the laundry basket in the corner.

Oh.

Woah.

My breath catches in the back of my throat. It's as if I don't see him topless on a regular basis, the way I'm staring at him right now. But somehow I just have... a renewed appreciation for it. Because he's standing up, maybe. I dunno.

He's so... wow. His skin is smooth, a little tan. His arms and chest and shoulders and back all subtly ripple will lean muscle. He's so tall... and there's this little bit of hair that travels down from his navel to the waistband of his pants. Heat blooms between my legs at the sight of it.

He reaches to scratch the back of his neck and his six-pack stretches, his muscles move and constrict and...

"Luke, you're so... hot."

He chuckles, a little flushed, shakes his head at me. There's something sparkling in his eyes when he turns towards me and says in his low, gruff voice, "Isn't it only fair if you take your shirt off too?"

I could point out that he's the one that's supposed to be changing his clothes, not me, but instead I just get up, scoot over to sit at the foot of his bed with my legs hanging over and gently pull my blue sweater and tank-top off, letting them fall onto the mattress beside me.

I'm glad I'm wearing one of my nicer bras today. It's light pink lace and makes my cleavage push up a little, and it matches my underwear. And I know he definitely likes it because he's standing there a couple meters away, looking at me with his mouth open a little, eyes getting all dark, gaze drawn to my chest.

I've heard women say that they want men to look at their faces, not their boobs, but right now I really don't mind.

After a few seconds I purse my lips and say, my voice all breathy, "Isn't it your turn?"

My eyes fly to his fingers as he flicks open the button of his trousers, pulls down the zipper, and butterflies erupt low in my gut as he slips his fingers beneath the edge, tugs his pants down with his tight-fitting thermals that he's wearing beneath them. The under-layer bunches up a little, sticks to his legs as he pulls them down and maybe it's a little awkward but I don't care because...

Holy.

Oh my God.

His pants are thrown into the laundry hamper while I'm busy staring at him in just his grey boxer-briefs that hug his skin so tight and... He stands a little at an angle, running his fingers through his messy hair, so I can see the front of him, and the back of him.

He has a very nice butt. The stretchy dark fabric hugs the curve of it and it looks quite... firm. His thighs are strong, have a nice shape, but aren't too bulky at all.

And then there's... the front.

My legs squeeze together a little because of the jolt of warmth that rushes between them.

I feel like I should look away, like it's wrong to see him so... almost naked. But I can't tear my eyes from him.

A short gush of air falls breathlessly from my parted lips.

It looks so... big.

Oh.

Oh.

And it's definitely getting bigger, and harder, as I look at him and as he looks at me, and oh my gosh the air in his room has suddenly become so hot and stuffy. I can hardly breathe.

I'm biting my lip so hard that it stings.

The dark, shadowed bulge at the front of his underwear protrudes, strains against the fabric. The shape of it is... well. Doesn't leave very much to the imagination.

My body is on fire just looking at him. The tips of my breasts are all tight and tingly, and the centre of me squeezes, clenches, curls with heat.

And he's like... three meters away.

I could touch him, if I wanted.

I suddenly really wanna touch it.

"Luke..." My voice is just a fluttery, hoarse breath.

What was I gonna say? My brain has melted into a pile of steaming mush and I can't seem to say anything at all.

Suddenly I'm picturing all the things that would happen if I shimmied my skinny-jeans down my legs, and we were both left in only our underwear.

Bad things.

Dangerous things.

Sinful, grown-up, adult things that the slickness between my thighs seems to be aching for.

I'm... not in Kansas anymore.

That sounded so lame even in my head but who the heck even cares.

"I should... put my clothes on, Ophelia."

No, he should just... never wear any clothes ever.

"Or you could... not."

He raises an eyebrow, scrubs a rough palm over the little bit of dark scruff coating his jaw. He presses his eyes shut and inhales a heavy breath and then says, his voice a ragged rumble, "Feelz. I'm like, ten seconds away from coming over there and... I'm not sure we should..."

"I want to," I breathe, without even thinking. "I wanna... touch you, Luke."

"Fuck," he grumbles, looking back at me with intense eyes, his pupils blown so wide they eat away all the rich, soft brown.

"Please?"

He swallows and the smooth, taut skin of his throat ripples in a way I think is so, so masculine and sexy.

I look at him and he looks at me, my fingers bunching the covers tightly at my sides. And then he starts to walk slowly towards me and I have to press my legs really hard together to quell all the insane things I'm feeling down there as I watch him get closer and closer...

He stops a couple feet right in front of me. My mouth is set in a disbelieving O and my throat is so dry as I look at him, slide my gaze down from the expression on his face, smouldering but hesitant, over his shoulders and his pecs and his abs and his belly-button and his happy trail to...

His...

Penis.

Hard, erect, straining through the dark-grey fabric, jutting out towards me. The shape of it is so... I don't even know. It's just... big, and... bulging. It's all under there, hidden, throbbing...

Jesus Christ.

I suddenly really want to reach out at see, through the fabric, what it feels like.

"Are you okay if I..."

"If you want to..."

Slowly, carefully, I extend my arm out, my hand shaking a little, my eyes wide and mesmerized. The tips of my fingers pause just a couple inches away and it's like... the entire world has collapsed and the only sound is my breathing, his breathing, the rushing whoosh of blood in my ears.

I'm holding my breath as I finally reach out all the way, graze the very ends of my fingers against the centre of the large swell, release the air in my lungs with a small gasp.

He makes a rough sound, like a choke or a growl, at the back of his throat.

I stroke my fingers slowly over him, getting a feel of the warmth, the hard, rigid flesh that's so firm but still a little soft but...

Wow.

I experimentally trace the entirety of it with gentle pressure from my fingers, as his chest rises and falls and he watches me.

I feel it move and twitch and pulse beneath my touch. Then I spread my fingers out, cover him softly with my entire hand, kinda try to feel all of him that way but it definitely doesn't all fit into my grasp.

I press my palm against him a little and he groans. One of his big, calloused hands comes to wrap around my wrist, to stop me from moving. "Feelz, you gotta stop now otherwise I'm gonna cum."

"Oh my God, Luke..."

Suddenly we hear noise, voices, laughter, faintly from a distance outside his room, the sound of his front door opening and closing.

He takes a step back and my hand falls away.

His parents are home.

The awareness of that snaps me back to reality, a little.

Things inside me crash back down and I feel so... frustrated. And disappointed.

And dazed. And... really turned on, I guess.

"I'm gonna get dressed so they don't walk in and find me almost naked, okay?"

"Okay."

Except most of my brain is busy wondering when the next time I get to touch him like that is gonna be.

***

A/N:

That had me feeling all kindsa ways. Thoughts? Feelings? Concerns? Advice for the young love-birds?

In other news, this coming week is gonna be like... -20, -30 degrees C. If I never update anything again, it's because I turned into a popsicle while attempting to walk between classes on campus. Welp.

XOXO Ami

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