Title: No One But You
Author: Alexandra Silva
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: July 27, 2018
They say bad things happen in threes…
I made a mistake. I kissed the right boy, but married the wrong man. They were friends. Best friends. Until my life fell apart.
Something was stolen and then something was given in its place.
I had so much in my grasp, maybe it was too much because everything started slipping.
Only one thing remained the same.
My first crush.
My first kiss.
My first love.
They say you can’t miss what you’ve never had…
But I swear I had her. At least for one kiss.
I left the right girl and tried to replace her with the wrong woman.
It didn’t work because I still missed her.
I promised my best friend I’d always look after his little sister. And our other best friend promised to never break her heart.
We have circled each other all our lives but our time never came.
We’ve never had our moment until now.
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“A penny for your thoughts?”
I swear every time he talks to me my heart just about explodes out of my chest. Jamie’s voice is so different. It’s changed. It’s deeper and rumbly, and it makes me think and imagine things that I don’t usually go out of my way to think about let alone imagine. It makes my belly do acrobatics and my mouth water.
How is that possible? How can his voice alone do that to me?
“Are you still angry with me?” He asks as he sits on the edge of the hot tub my parents had installed on the first floor balcony.
It’s such a pretty view. The water and the trees that surround one side of it with all the beautiful grey, white and light blue lake houses that line it in a cosy and enclosed U. You can just make out the green rolling hills surrounding us with the large church spire just about breaking the treeline. It’s just so wonderfully beautiful.
“I’m not upset with you,” I hear myself reply even though I am a little.
To be honest I think I’m a little more heartbroken that he’s leaving than I am angry. I was so looking forward to having Jamie around at Oxford, but he’s going to do an Overseas Exchange to UCLA so he can learn from some great minds like Doctor Wilson Weller—a teaching and practicing Neurosurgery god. Or whatever Jamie calls him. Phillip decided to stay close to home at UCL even though he got an offer to Oxford just like Jamie and Richard did three years ago. He doesn’t want to leave his new girlfriend, Jamie’s sister and one of my best friends, behind. I think I’m a little bit jealous of them, even if am happy for them. Jamie is just coming round to the idea, and I know that the only reason why he came to find me is probably because he still doesn’t know how to handle them being so touchy and lovey dovey with one another.
“You’re not?” He shuffles closer until the side of his thigh touches mine.
His legs are different too. They have a light smattering of hair that kind of matches his chest and the trail down from his navel. I can’t help but run my eyes down his slightly defined torso and down the light trail of fuzz that leads down to the top of his shorts, all the way down his shorts to his thighs and knees.
I’m so distracted by all his golden skin that I don’t even realise how fast my heart is beating until I feel the hammering in my chest pulsing up my neck to the back of my throat.
My skin heats as he wraps his arm around my bare shoulders. His thumbs lightly strumming the string holding my bikini top up around my neck. It’s like the sun shines brighter in that moment and the UV rays become laser strong and solely focused on me.
“Then why did you throw the Uni hamper we gave you in the bin?”
“Because it’s stupid. I don’t need wine and condoms and…”
“You say that now, but when you get there you’ll be thankful. You don’t want to be caught short, the dial-a-condom service isn’t as discreet or anonymous as you think.”
“Guys don’t even look at me like that.” I shrug.
He goes super still next to me. His arm becomes slightly heavier on my shoulders and his thumb tucks under the halter neck string of my red bikini top. He clears his throat and I can hear his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.
“Quincy, that’s not true. Believe me, my sisters have made it a point to tell me every chance they get.”
He pulls me closer to him so that I have no other option but to rest my head on his shoulder.
“Why would they do that?” I mumble into the soft skin of his shoulder.
It’s shiny and taught. It wraps flawlessly around his lean muscled arms with the odd sun freckle here and there. He smells briny and citrusy. A combination of his cologne, sweat and the lake water.
I inhale deeply as his shoulders shake with humour.
Wait, why is he laughing at me?
“Why are you laughing at me?”
He clears his throat again before he sighs, “You have no idea.”
“No idea of what?”
Our eyes lock as I look up at him. His bright blue eyes are like ocean blue sparkling glass as the sun lights them up. They have these silvery grey flecks that bleed to the edges of his irises and form these thin dark rings that are only marginally lighter than his pupil.
“You’re so pretty…so beautiful…”
It’s like he can read my mind and steal the words on the tip of my tongue as he reaches for my hair with his hand and wraps it with my long tresses.
And if my heart wasn’t already hammering into my ribcage it’s now batter ramming its way out like it’s trying to break free or get closer to his heart.
I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t actually say anything. I can’t verbalise with the way that he’s looking at me. The way his eyes are eating up every inch of my face and the way they flitter down to my chest and then up to my lips.
His wet and shiny pink tongue darts out and moistens his lower lip before he draws said lip in with his teeth and bites down so hard that the blood and colour drain around the trenches his teeth have made.
I can’t help but mimic him with my own tongue and lips and teeth. He gasps lightly and as my eyes meet his again the pupils are so big that there is only a perfectly slim ring of silver speckled cerulean surrounding them. And I can’t breathe. The air feels too hot and dry. And thick? Why does the air feel so thick? It feels like I’m filling my lungs with invisible oil. My lungs feel so full that they have to push the air back out in deep and long unsteady breaths.
The arm around my shoulders falls and he brings his hand up to cup my cheek. And I know what’s happening because I’ve seen it in films and I’ve seen other people around us kiss. I can even kind of picture it in my mind—what we must look like right now. But I still can’t quite comprehend why he’s coming closer to me. Why his breathing is just as manic as mine. I can’t understand why he’s about to kiss me with wide eyes and desperate breaths. The hand in my hair tugs slightly and my face tilts marginally so that our lips touch.
His warm lips are so soft and so tender as they brush over mine and I want to throw my arms around his neck, straddle his lap and just fucking devour him.
Fuck, I’m like some lust crazed person.
I don’t even know how I manage to stay so still with all those thoughts and all the electricity zapping through me.
I don’t know what to do next. If I should open my mouth or lick his lips. Whether I should touch him. I want to touch. I am touching him.
He’s groaning as he licks my lips and as my hands hold on to his waist so tight that my nails bite into his flesh. But then it’s not just my nails biting into his skin, it’s his teeth sinking into my lower lip. It’s his hand cupping my face so hard that I know it should hurt, I know that it’ll leave a mark, but I don’t care because it feels so fucking good. It’s his fingers weaving so tightly into my hair that the sting makes me want to pull on his hair too.
I can’t help the strangled moan that escapes my mouth as he slips his tongue inside and licks my own.
I’ve never kissed or been kissed like this before and even though I’m unpractised and new to this, my hands seem to be in the know as they travel brazenly down his sides to the top of his swimming shorts and as unsure as I am, I know that I want to slip my hands under the elastic and become acquainted with every last inch of his sexy skin.
Shit, I don’t think I’ve ever used that word to describe another person, let alone a boy…a man. Jamie.
He grumbles a shallow growl right at the back of his throat as my fingertips skim around the navy elastic of his shorts. His tongue licks deeper and twirls around mine.
I want more. I want to tell him that I want it too, but I don’t want to stop kissing him back and I have this unsure tightness in chest that makes me bashful and fearful that he’d reject me anyway.
I want him to touch me in ways that I’ve only heard other girls boast and brag that they’d been touched. I want his mouth and his tongue to taste a lot more than just my own.
Before I even realise it we’re both standing in the middle of the warm, soft rolling water and his hands are squeezing my bum cheeks to the point that I think they’ll leave bruises. And it makes me feel excited in ways that I’ve never felt before and it makes me feel like a livewire.
All this and he never stops our kiss. His tongue tastes mine with a ferocity that feels like years of need all at once. I rove my hands up his sides and his back, relishing the feel of his muscles pulling and tightening under his hot skin. By the time my hands round to his chest and travel up to his hair our bodies are completely flush and my boobs feel even bigger and heavier than they already are. My nipples feel sore like they’re being pinched and pulled and there’s this familiar, yet new ache that’s building between my legs and the bubbling water is only making that ache stronger whilst making it feel better at the same time.
I’ve never felt the arousal of a man, but I can feel his and it’s pressing deliciously to my lower belly. I feel the heat creep up my neck and flush my cheeks and all I want to do is find a way of getting closer. My fingers tighten their grip in his sun bleached brown hair and I can’t help but pull him down to me, even as I feel him softly pull away.
No. Please don’t stop.
Alexandra Silva is a lover of words and romance. She blames the classics and a nutty English teacher for her obsession with books and fiction. Come rain or shine with either coffee or wine in hand you can find her with her nose stuck in a book and her head in the clouds. She lives in London outnumbered by her very loud boys, with her very own hero and their two wild cats—Jack and Jill.
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