I stopped with my lips hovering directly over hers. I could feel her breath on me, and I had to count to ten to stop myself from pushing her back against the door and pushing myself between her legs.
"It smells like chocolate in here," I whispered, ghosting my lips back and forth across hers.
I had absolutely no self-control being this close to her. Two weeks of only hearing her voice was like the most torturous foreplay in the world. I kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheek and right below her ear, taking in a deep breath of her skin. All of the blood rushed to my head and my arms tightened around her small waist.
Whoa, what the f**k?
I could feel her heart thumping in her chest which was pressed against my own, but that wasn’t what made the room suddenly seem tipsy.
This can't be right. Why in the hell is my subconscious playing tricks on me right now? I kissed the spot below her ear again just to make sure I wasn’t losing my mind and felt her shudder in my arms. I took another deep breath of her skin, nuzzling my nose into the soft pieces of hair that rested against the side of her neck.
Jesus Christ, I have officially gone off the deep end. How is it possible that she smells like this? I stood there and just breathed her in. Five years of searching for this and it was right here in my arms. And now I was going to look like a total assy pervert because it was killing me. I need to know what that smell is. It had to be some kind of lotion or some shit and in some crazy, twisted act of fate, Claire used the same product. Once that mystery is solved, I can finally, once and for all, let go of this nonsense.
"It's probably just me. I always smell like chocolate," she whispered, her arms sliding up to my shoulders and around my neck, her fingers gently sliding through the hair at the nape. Something about the feel of her fingers sliding against the back of my head felt so familiar that it was my turn to shiver.
Did you just quote 'Heathers'? That is my favorite movie ever.
I kind of have a thing for quirky, crazy, intelligent, dark-haired chicks.
I forgot how to breathe for a minute as bits and pieces of the past tried to make their way to the forefront of my mind. She felt so good in my arms; like she belonged there or maybe she'd been there before….
No, don't be a dick. Claire is sweet and beautiful and a nice girl. Don't confuse her with a memory, especially not now.
“Well, f**k me gently with a chainsaw.”
“Ask me what my favorite movie is.”
The past, present and stupid dreams were all flying around in my brain trying to fight for first place. Suddenly I had a memory of falling down on top of her on a strange bed. Her body was soft in all the right places and her skin was smooth and I couldn't get enough of touching her. She made the most amazing noises when I licked the skin of her neck right below her ear. I remembered pushing into her and squeezing my eyes shut because she was so f**king tight and hot, and I didn't want it to end before we even got started. I remembered moving slowly in and out of her and hoping to God it felt good for her because I wanted to do this forever with only her. I remembered waking up the next morning, breathing in the smell of chocolate that still lingered on the pillow and the sheets and praying that I'd be able to find out who she was.
I pulled away from Claire enough so I could see her face. I stared into her eyes, willing every single one of my memories to come back to me so I wouldn't feel so confused. Her fingers continued to play with my hair on the back of my head, bringing everything into focus.
"What's your favorite movie?" I whispered.
I held my breath, desperate for the answer. I watched her face go from content to puzzled to nervous. Why was she nervous? It was a simple question. Unless…
She looked back and forth between my eyes and I watched her blink back tears. Seeing her eyes like this, so bright and nervous jarred a memory loose and I choked on a breath. With perfect clarity I saw myself above her, pulling her leg up and wrapping it around my hip while I stared down into her eyes. I remembered looking into her eyes as I pushed inside of her and forcing myself to stop when I saw her quickly blink back tears.
I remembered hearing her gasp like she was in pain and I asked her if she was okay. She never answered me; she just stared up at me with those beautiful, bright brown eyes, pulled my face down to hers and kissed me. Claire’s face, Claire’s eyes, Claire’s body…
"Heathers," she whispered.
My mind flew back to the present at the sound of her whispered admission. All I could do was stare at her in disbelief. The feel of her in my arms, her breath on my face, the sound of her laughter and the way she blushed when she was embarrassed, I remembered it all. Bumping our shoulders together conspiratorially as we played beer pong, the way her lips felt the first time I kissed her…it was her. It was Claire.
"My favorite movie. It's Heathers," she repeated, mistaking my stunned silence for a hearing impairment. She stared at me like she was willing me to remember. Hoping that I would finally get a clue as to why she and Liz acted so weird when they met me. Why she was so nervous around me that night we showed up at Jim and Liz’s and tried to avoid looking me in the eyes at all cost. Why everyone at the table looked like they’d seen a ghost when Drew brought up the virgin comment. Why she was reticent to share too much with me during our many conversations over the last few weeks – I already knew everything about her. She’d shared it all with me that night so many years ago.
"It's you," I whispered, bringing my hand up to cup her cheek. "Holy shit."