“How do you do that?”
“What? Paint them?”
“Yeah.”
“Practice.”
“So did you match the shorts and the toes on purpose?” I looked up at her to see her response.
“Of course.” She smiled, but her voice remained a whisper, almost as if she too was afraid to disturb the charged air that buzzed around us. I rose from my haunches, leaving only a few inches between our bodies.
“Why?” It seemed so unimportant, so insignificant for something that must take a lot of effort. And she couldn’t even see the results.
“It’s all about the little things . . . haven’t you learned that, big guy?” She said big guy the way I said sweetheart.
“When did your mom die, Millie?” My voice was soft, even softer than my hands had been on her body.
“When I was eighteen. She’d been sick for about two years. She shouldn’t have made it that long. But she knew she had to make it until then. I had to be a legal adult in order to be Henry’s guardian.”
“So who takes care of Millie?” I whispered.
“I don’t need to be taken care of, Tag,” she whispered back. “I’ve been trying to tell you that.”
“Need and want are two different things.” I swallowed once, trying to convince myself that I didn’t want what I wanted very, very much. When I made no move to take it, Millie stepped into me and carefully slid her arms around my waist. My heart was pounding in my chest and she laid her cheek against it, listening. I couldn’t hide from her. She was blind yet she saw every damn thing. Almost as carefully, I wrapped my arms around her too, loosely, gently, my big hands resting on her slim back.
“Can I ask you something, Tag?” Her voice was plaintive and small as if she were speaking to my heart which lay directly beneath her lips. Its galloping response should have been enough. Maybe it was, because she didn’t wait for my lips to answer. “Are you afraid to kiss me?”
“Why would I be afraid?” I was so damn afraid.
“Because kissing a blind girl is like stealing from a beggar or lying to a priest, don’t you know? Like hitting a child or drowning a kitten? It’s one of those unpardonable sins.”
I swore beneath my breath, half-tempted to laugh at her audacity, half-angry that she was so astute.
“Or maybe you think it’s like pulling on that loose string only to unravel an entire sweater. One of those things that is innocent but has dire consequences.”
“That’s not it, Millie,” I lied.
“That is it, Tag. And don’t insult me by assuming that I need some sort of guarantee just because I can’t see. If I were any other girl, you would have had my clothes on the floor by now. It’s a kiss, Tag. Not a promise signed in blood. A kiss.”
When I gently pushed her away from me, forcing her to lift her head from my chest, I could see the hurt slam across her face, and her eyelids fluttered closed as if to protect what was already lost. But she misunderstood. I was creating space to move, not distance. I slid my fingers along the sides of her face, cradled her head in my hands, and laid my lips across hers. She clutched at my wrists, a small gasp escaping from her mouth before I swallowed it up, adding it to the fear that still hummed in my chest.
Her lips were soft and her mouth was slightly sweet, and for a few seconds I was hyper-aware of the smallest details, the rasp of my whiskered chin against her smooth cheek as my mouth whispered over hers, the silky heat of her breath hitching in anticipation, a strand of her hair tickling my face as I applied the gentlest of pressures to her lips. And then she leaned into me hungrily, demanding more, and the details blurred into the heady experience of wanting and being wanted.
My stomach dipped and my hands slid from her face to her waist before my arms wrapped around her slim form, gripping her tightly, trying desperately not to lose control, trying valiantly to maintain emotional indifference as my body waved the white flag. Then my thoughts were overpowered by sensation, and I didn’t think at all.
Millie didn’t just kiss me, she traced me, holding my face to her mouth as her fingertips curled into my skin, the brush of her fingers and her mouth peeling away my resistance, sinking into my flesh until I was panting against her lips, my tongue tangling with hers, her feet dangling above the floor as I lifted her off her feet. I urged her legs around me in an attempt to get closer than we already were, and she acquiesced, her legs encircling me as tightly as my arms embraced her. Then I was stumbling out of the bathroom, gripping her to me, cradling her like a child I was desperate to protect, kissing her like a woman I was suddenly hell-bent on having, and falling across her bed like my legs had been shot out from beneath me.
My hands slid beneath her tank top, palming the satiny skin of her abdomen before pushing her bloodied shirt past the swell of her breasts and over her head, tearing my mouth from hers to yank it free, pulling the pins from her hair as I went so that it fell in dark waves across her shoulders and around her head, an inky pool against the white comforter. And my breath caught in my chest. My hands stilled and my heart tripped, thudding heavily against my ribs.
I pushed myself up and off her, bracing myself above her so I could stare down at the girl beneath me. Dark hair, smooth skin, full breasts. I swallowed, throat closing with an emotion that felt more like love than lust. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, waiting for me to come back. She didn’t cover herself or reach for me. She just waited.
A door slammed downstairs.
“Tag!” Axel bellowed. Millie jerked, and I was across the room, yanking open drawers, looking for a clean shirt to cover what I’d just unwrapped. She was suddenly there beside me, gently pushing me aside as she found what I was looking for and slid it over her head without missing a beat.