Page 39 of Illicit

“Yes. I know without a doubt there’s one thing you won’t do for me.” More like one line he won’t cross, but I don’t dare utter that aloud.

“You wound me,” he utters.

The thing is, I think he’s serious. He really will do almost anything for me.

I tell him the truth. “That’s the last thing I’d ever want. You don’t deserve that.”

The little space remaining between us disappears. Just like earlier in the police station, I’m in his arms, but this time it’s not me running to him. It’s him pulling me there.

It’s no different than the countless other times he’s hugged me.

Saying hello…

Saying goodbye…

Or just being playful.

It feels good and hurts all at the same time.

And he has no clue how strong both feelings surge through me.

With one hand pressed to the middle of my back and the other on the side of my head, he drags a hand down my hair. “You’re off. You have been for a while. If you don’t want to talk to your parents, I get it. I don’t even have parents, and I get it. But you have me.”

I shake my head against his chest and wrap my arms around him. If I’m here, I might as well enjoy it. “Trust me, it would be a burden on you.”

His hand on my head moves. I feel a tug on my hair. That little tug shouldn’t excite me, but it does. My heart pounds as I clench my thighs, but it doesn’t keep me from feeling the wetness it causes between my legs. And since I’m commando in Rocco’s boxers, the feeling is more extreme than ever.

Especially since ever only lives out in my wildest dreams. This is very, very real.

He forces my head back, looks down into my eyes, and demands, “Tell me what’s going on with you.”

I fist his T-shirt at his lats as my heart skips a beat.

I lick my dry lips and swallow over the lump in my throat.

His gaze drops to my mouth before his eyes find mine.

A small frown touches his brow.

“Teagan.” My name is a whisper on his lips, exactly the way I’ve fantasized.

This is too much.

I may never have this opportunity again.

Maybe it’s the exhaustion or the drama of what happened at the bar or almost being arrested. I don’t have time to think or contemplate the ramifications.

I don’t think about anything other than what I’ve wanted since I was seventeen. Hell, maybe sixteen.

I’m sure it’s never crossed Rocco’s mind.

I surge to my toes and barely catch his shocked expression before my lips touch his.

Every muscle in his body tenses.

My kiss isn’t epic or romantic or sexy. It involves no tongue or roaming hands. I’m nervous and awkward. It doesn’t help that I don’t have a willing participant.

But I did it.

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