Through the Lens (Click Duet #1) (Bay Area Duet Series) Persephone Autumn (black authors fiction TXT) 📖

After walking for five minutes, we locate a spot where no one obstructs the view in front of us. Plopping down on the sand, Cora leans into me as we watch the sunset. We had timed dinner perfectly so we wouldn’t miss this moment. If you have never watched the sunset along the water’s horizon, you have been deprived.

The sunset was a favorite of mine. Sharing it with my girl made it more special.

Right now, the sun radiates a hot orange glow like the sphere of fire it is. The sky surrounding it shifts from a soft blue to a light yellow. And the lower the sun drops on the horizon, the more brilliant the colors. Yellow morphs into faint and then bold oranges. A mixture of orange and pink spark next, filtering between the clouds. Shadows and hints of purple edge the stratocumulus clouds floating above as the sun slowly descends.

When the sun dips below the horizon, the sky still dances with colors and clouds. The visual is magical and I am so lucky I get to share it with someone I love.

I shift and turn to face Cora more, her head lifting from my shoulder. One arm still wrapped around her waist, I bring the other to her face and cup her jaw, brushing my thumb over her lips. “I love you,” I whisper.

Just now, it is the first time those words have been said in our relationship, but I mean them with every fiber in my soul. Whether or not she reciprocates doesn’t matter. Something inside me yearned to release the sentiment. Like a ticking timebomb would detonate inside me if I held it in any longer.

Her eyes hold mine—unmoving, welling. She kisses my thumb that continues to stroke her lips. “I love you, too.” The second those words leave her lips, every single molecule inside me radiates warmth. My soul is complete, whole.

Under the brilliance of the setting sun, I lean in and kiss the hell out of the only person in this world that matters to me. The only girl I will ever say those three miraculous words to. My Cora. My love.

We stumble into Cora’s house, giddy as school girls. After our proclamations, we left the beach and headed back to her house to watch a movie since I have a few hours until curfew. No doubt it would be Lord of the Rings again. But I don’t care, as long as she is beside me. In my arms.

When I notice all the lights are off, I prompt, “Where are your parents?”

“At some charity function in Tampa. They probably won’t be home till close to midnight, if it’s anything like last year.”

A sudden rush of anxiety trickles up my spine, spreads through my limbs, and explodes beneath my sternum. Today is our anniversary. We are alone. After professing our love for each other. And she is looking at me like she has no desire to watch a movie, but perhaps do something else. Something more.

She stalks closer, locks eyes with me and stops when her chest brushes mine. Her fingers reach out and draw lines down my bicep, my forearm, interlocking our fingers. Heat expands and contracts like a breathing organism in my chest. My breath comes in quick, short bursts as she inches closer and closer. And when she pushes up on her toes and kisses me, I forget how to breathe altogether.

The kiss starts off tender and gentle. She slides her hands back up my arms and laces them behind my neck, toying with the edges of my hair. Her tongue darts out and swipes a slow and sinful line over my lower lip, and I moan at the sensation as I part my lips and invite her in. My arms snake around her waist and draw her impossibly closer. Within seconds, the kiss elevates into more. More heated. More passionate. And I can’t get enough of her. Her lips, her warmth, her taste.

We start moving, but I don’t open my eyes as she slowly guides us. It seems as if we have been walking for hours when her body weight shifts and we settle in place. Our lips break for a moment, which is exactly when I realize we are in her bedroom. Next to her bed. Dim moonlight illuminates the space between the slats of her blinds. And the sudden proximity to her—in the darkness, in her bedroom—amplifies everything I feel for her.

Standing tall, I gaze down at her as she lies back on the bed, elbows propping her up. I want this—want her—but I need to know she feels the same. That she doesn’t feel a sense of obligation to take us to the next level. That she wants to do this of her own volition. I would never pressure her into doing something she isn’t ready for. Never.

“Cora…” I rasp, my voice thick with emotion as I draw out her name.

She reaches out her hand, her eyes telling me to take it. Wrapping her fingers with mine, she drags me closer. My knees bump the edge of the bed and sweat breaks out across my skin. “Yes, Gavin.”

Yes? As in she is responding to me. Or yes, she wants to do this? Wants to take the next step. Sex. What exactly is she saying yes to?

“Are you sure?” I ask, reluctance in my tone. I don’t want her saying yes because she thinks it’s what I want her to say. “Because we don’t have to if you’re not ready.”

Her brilliant green eyes pierce mine, her voice steady and firm when she speaks. “I am sure. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more ready in my life.” She gives my hand a gentle tug, signaling me to join her on the bed.

This exact moment has infiltrated my dreams for months. I never knew when it would happen, but the fantasy of it was a regular occurrence. Now that it is happening, I am not