| Straight: Celebrity: Hup, Part II (1/3) |
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Hup is the sound you make when you breathe in sharply Teşekkür ederim = Thank you Didem stepped off the elevator onto the plush indigo carpeting of the hallway. She didn’t even have time for second thoughts: the doorman had alerted him, so Tarkan held the door to his apartment open, waiting for her. The sleeveless tank he wore exposed his muscled arms. Her feet didn’t even make a sound as she came closer, nor did he. His subdued manner surprised her, but as soon she stepped over the threshold he grasped her waist and lifted her high. He buried his face in Didem’s belly. Instinctively, she reached down to hold his head, combing her fingers through his hair. Tarkan breathed in her scent and laughed. Hup. When he set her on her feet, she ran her hands over the planes of his face, rubbing her palms along the stubbly almost-beard on his cheeks. She passed her fingertips over his eyelids which closed under her touch, but he reached up to take one of her hands. Pressing her fingers against his lips, he opened his astonishing green eyes to watch her intently. She wasn’t afraid of his look anymore and wasn’t afraid to reveal herself in her own eyes. “You came.” Didem nodded, unable to speak. Tarkan’s voice was so soft … so incredulous … it was as if he hadn’t been sure she would come. He buried his face in the angle of her neck. She muttered his name and clung to him as he bent her back impossibly far. She held onto more than just his broad shoulders – she also clutched at his need. This could only be a temporary liaison between them, a flash of stinging heat, but she savored the moment. She had to; she needed him right now as much as he needed her. Tarkan broke away from her, but before she could pull him back, he swept her off her feet, grinning madly. His mood was infectious, and she laughed with him. He carried her as if she were as light as a little girl to the sofa, with its rich pattern of red and orange swirls. Complex, just like Tarkan himself, she mused. He sat her there and kneeled on the floor between her legs. She couldn’t help herself; staring at him intently as if she had never seen him before, she slid her hands over his face with wonder. Eyelashes to die for, she thought. They were so thick and long, she knew women who would kill for lashes like his. Didem licked her lips as she brushed her fingertips over his. There was that light moustache … the little tuft of hair on his chin under his mouth … his goatee … He pretended to grab her fingers in his mouth, biting her with his teeth covered with his lips. Of course she yelped, but her laughter died when he started sucking on her finger. Then Tarkan seemed to get serious as he looked into her eyes, and he pulled her hand away. What is he thinking about? When he spoke, the sincerity in his voice made her shiver. “Teşekkür ederim.” “No.” Didem pressed her fingers against his mouth to keep him from saying any more. “No, Tarkan, please don’t thank me. I should be thanking you.” His dimples flashed. “How are you going to thank me?” She smiled at his teasing, |
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Re: oh honestly!
