Anyway, where was I again? Oh yeah, the card game. I’d lost every game except for two, because Go Fish is much harder than I remember. But when I did win, I had a hard time deciding which body part of his I wanted to see more. There were so many to choose from and I’d squirmed and muttered to myself until finally coming to a decision. And let me tell you, I was not disappointed.
The first time I’d won, I pressed him onto his back, lifted his shirt up until it was bunched under his neck, and let my hands explore that broad chest of his. He laid there for some time, just allowing me to pluck at his nipples and slide my fingertips down his ribs. When I’d gotten to the waistband of his pants, I’d met his gaze, my fingers dipping lower and lower.
I could see him warring with himself, but then he’d cleared his throat and sat up, his shirt falling down and covering all that beautiful unmarred skin.
The next several games I’d lost, and August spent ages asking me about my tattoos.He’d let his fingers and eyes roam, scanning the intricate, colorful designs that I spent six years collecting, and I reveled in every single second of it.
At one point, he’d even stopped to explore the image of a turtle on my bicep, shaded with the exact shade of green that I chose to match his eyes. I’d Google-searched symbolism for ages, trying to find a kickass design that represented all the things that August makes me feel––calm and protected––and finally landed on the turtle.
As he slid his fingertips over it, I’d held my breath for a full minute, thinking heknew. That he’d realize and be freaked out. But if he did, he didn’t mention it, he just rubbed his thumb over that patch of skin and then moved his hand down my spine.
“You ever going to tell me about this tattoo?” he’d asked, tracing a large image on my lower back. He’d gone over his time limit, but I wasn’t complaining. August could touch me all day long and I wouldn’t complain.
“If you earn it,” I breathed.
He’d leaned over and kissed me, and when he finally pried his lips away from mine, I was panting and dizzy.
“Damn you,” I said, and he chuckled.
“It’s symbolic. You see a neglected house with brambles covering it. It’s like my life. Sometimes the memories just consume me, overtake me. I got that one a few years ago at a particularly low point. At the time, it felt like my memories were ruining me. Tearing me down.”
“Em,” he’d said sadly, and I shook my head.
“I know, I know, but I’m okay now. And really, you sucked that confession out of me like a Death Eater, and you have to live with it now.”
He’d brushed a hand over my jaw, and I had to blink back the sting of tears. He’s always so gentle with me, always using those hands to soothe me.
“I hope you can make new memories, Em. Good ones.”
I had to look away. “Yeah, August. Me too.”
I’d forced myself away from him after that, needing some space. And the next round, I’d miraculously won. I have a sneaking suspicion he let me. But it doesn’t matter now. Because I still got to collect. So, I’d guided him onto his stomach and pulled his pants right down over his ass. It was like unwrapping a present. I did it slowly, savoring each inch that was revealed. It was better than any Christmas I’d ever had.
Then I ran my hands over the muscular globes, spreading his cheeks to take a nice long look at his hole.
He let me do it too, resting his head on his crossed arms and closing his eyes. His face was flushed, and in that moment, I wished that Lex had thought to pack lube because I had a feeling August may have let me play with him a bit.
But I wasn’t going to push it, so I just ran my fingertip over him, and relished the way he’d gasped at the sensation. Then I’d retracted my hand and, with great reluctance, pulled those pants back up over his hips.
He didn’t mention it again, and neither did I. But I have been obsessing over it ever since. What does it mean that he let me do that? Will he let me inside of him eventually?
“You still awake?” August asks, and I sigh, my sensual daydreaming interrupted and vanishing into thin air.
“Of course.”
“What are you thinking about?”
“Your ass,” I say, and he chuckles like I’m joking.
I am so not joking. It’s a very serious topic, and I’m ready to discuss it when he is.
“What areyouthinking about?” I ask, and August runs a hand over my back.
“Nothing.”
I peek up at him, my hair falling against my cheek and August tucks it behind my ear.
“You were really thinking about nothing?”