SLEEPSONG (BoyxBoy)✔️

Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Did you know that Sebastian does a really good impression of a statue?

Well, he does, and right then he could have given Michelangelo's David a run for its sculptural money. His eyes opened wider than I had ever seen, bar nothing, and his muscles first went utterly slack with surprise followed by them tensing up so completely that I thought his bones might snap under the pressure. Lips parted against mine and and stayed that way; eyebrows rose and locked into a position that told me the kiss had caught him so unaware that even moving had become an impossible feat.

Clearly, he had not been expecting me to kiss him.

I was lost in a mental fog, arms draped around his thick neck, but I could feel the electricity tingling my lips in a way I hadn't felt in years, every spark searing through my skin in sensitive little waves that ran across my scalp and down the back of my spine.

Gooseflesh rose on my arms and a wave of intense heat spread through my stomach and lower as he stared down at me with those amber eyes all aglow, almost molten, really, as if they were on fire. I watched, fascinated, as the color in them flickered and shifted like living coals.

I finally broke the kiss and pulled away, staring at him more clearly, seeing him see me. His chest rose and fell with short, quick, harsh breaths and words—drunken words, words I wasn't sure the origin of —spilled out of my mouth before I could check them.

"You look at me n' your eyes flash, and its beautiful, you know that?"

He stopped breathing altogether, lips thinning into a harsh line.

Pupils expanded, then contracted, becoming little more than sharp pinpricks that drilled into my face with an intensity that made my spine tingle. It seemed to take him a minute to find himself, gaze flitting back and forth, abstractly, as if he were at a loss.

"What... are you playing at?" he lowly growled. "What possessed you to... how drunk are you?"

I couldn't respond since I had become fixated on the muscles beneath his shirt.

Maybe the stress of everything had finally made me snap.

Maybe it was something else.

I had no idea, but I didn't care, I just let go. Unable to resist, I dragged a hand down across his shirt before letting it trail back up beneath the fabric, up his shirt, across bare skin, and the treasure trail stretching out of his jeans, reveling in the way his skin felt under my hands, like hot silk stretched over stone or something, anything... my mind had begun to whirl and dance and tumble over itself as I stared at him and, and the alcohol, that's what was doing this, it was—

"I think its the heat," I heard myself mumble, voice coming to me from over a million miles away. "The feeling of your skin, your warmth —I just, I just can't stop wanting to..."

My words trailed off and my hand fell still against his chest, feeling his thundering heart.

It was beating fast and hard, like a war drum, matching his ragged, rapid breathing.

The ocean roared, carrying spray and the smell of salt into the air, and as the wind brushed through the grass, stirring my hair, I lay there, looking at him through my lashes, drinking in the powerful intensity of those glowing eyes, lips stinging, face tingling, ears burning.

He was staring at me one second and kissing me the next, forcing me back against the ground with the weight of his massive body. I clung to him, unable to help it as his lips pressed against me tight, and I did what I'd been wanting to do for a lot longer than I cared to admit: I buried my fingers in his curly hair, gently tugging at strands that felt like coarsely spun silk.