Page 69 of Until Then

It would be so easy to tug it away. I’d drop to my knees,wrap my hand around his cock and take the tip into my mouth.

I wet my lips, wishing I already had the taste of him there, and take him in from head to toe and back again.

When I meet his eye, finding a heat there that matches what’s burning inside me, my core clenches.

Aching.

Desperate.

If he doesn’t say something, I might die.

He puts me out of my misery. “What are you doing here?” Lust-dark eyes skim me, assess me the way I assessed him. “You left.”

I flatten my hands on the countertop, then curl my fingers over the lip. “I came back for a jacket, and I… I heard you and…”

He raises a single dark brow in challenge, though I can’t tell whether there’s anger there, too, or desire. “And you thought what?”

Voice shaky, I say, “You said my name.”

Water drips from his hair, down his forehead. God, he’s gorgeous. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I did.”

The breath I didn’t know I was holding whooshes from me. At least he doesn’t deny it.

“I thought you didn’t like me… like that.” I force myself to meet his eye, a silent dare. Will he give me honesty, or will he lie, play it off?

“I like youwaytoo muchlike that.” He takes a step closer. That single move closes far too much space in this small room. I could count every one of his eyelashes if I wanted.

“Why haven’t you done something about it?” I fire back, but my bravado loses all credibility when the words are nothing but breath.

He shakes his head, causing droplets from his wet hair to sprinkle around him. A drop lands on my cheek, and his warm thumb whisks it away a second after the sensation registers.

“I think the answer to that is pretty obvious.”

I shake my head. “It’s really not.”

His attention drops to my lips, and I realize I’m licking them, like I’m anticipating the taste of him.

“You’re too young for me,” he says, zeroing in on my throat, where he can surely see evidence of my quickly beating pulse.

“I’m a consenting adult,” I argue, making his lips twitch with an almost smile. “One who’s wanted you for far longer than you’ve wanted me.” I reach out and tentatively place my hand on his damp shoulder. I slide it up the back of his neck, gently tugging on his hair. “I want this. I want you.”

With a curse, he angles in and presses his forehead to mine. His eyes are closed, breaths unsteady. “Don’t say shit like that.”

My heart lurches, and a shaky exhale stutters past my lips. “Why not?”

“Because I’ve only got so much self-control.” His warm eyes meet mine, lusty and soulful all at the same time.

Fuck self-control.

With a breath in, I garner all my nerve and press my mouth to his. I stay like that, with my lips resting against him, not really kissing him. I’m giving him the choice. Letting him decide whether we go any further.

He groans low in his throat. The sound vibrates through him to me, and it takes everything I have not to push. Not to lick into his mouth. Not to drag my hands down his chest. But he has to meet me halfway, so I wait.

I feel it, the moment the wall he’s been holding upcrumbles. The sound he makes as he gives in is a cross between a cry and a moan. He cups my cheeks, his big hands hot and rough, and kisses me with a force that steals the breath from my lungs. I release his hair and slide my hands around his neck to his chest. His heart beats impossibly fast beneath my palm.

He kisses me like if he stops, I might disappear into thin air. It’s intense, almost a little forceful, like he wants to sink into me until we become one. I’ve never been kissed like this—in a way that makes me feel wanted and treasured, desired and revered.

I grab the hem of my top and lift, tipping back so I can tug it over my head. Before it’s even hit the ground, we’re kissing again, like we can’t get enough.

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