Page 66 of Bones

But Deke wouldn’t let me.

Like he knew I was overthinking, he speared his fingers into my hair and tugged gently until my lips separated from his just enough for him to order, “Tell me you don’t feel it. This connection between us. Tell me you don’t want it.”

I didn’t say it.

Couldn’t.

Because it was true. I felt it all.

And Deke knew it. “Then open your mouth, baby. Gimme what I’ve searched centuries for.”

I wanted to ask about that again. I should’ve asked about that again. But my body obeyed his demand instantly, and my lips parted.

His tongue plunged in to take and taste with a desperation I never knew existed. Not in books. Not in my wildest fantasies. Certainly not in real life. I whimpered into the kiss, and quickly realized that Deke had been holding back. Because at that soft, involuntary noise, his grip on my hair tightened and his already bruising kiss became painful.

A beautiful, aching pain that I wanted more of.

No.

Ineededmore.

My hands went to his soft, overgrown hair just as his dropped from the couch to grip my ass. He easily lifted me with one arm, and my legs instinctively wrapped around his torso.

I thought he was making good on his promise to finally take me to his bed. The table. Or maybe the door.

Like him, I was also surprisingly game for any of it.

But he just turned and sat with me straddling his lap.

Oh.

My.

Wow.

I’d felt his hardness against my stomach in the entryway, but I’d been so wrapped up in my jealousy and our confusing argument that I’d convinced myself that what I’d felt was mostly jeans or his belt buckle. That there was no way it was actually his arousal. No way that I’d caused it. But with it pushed against my needy sex, there was no denying it.

Deke’s staggering height and fit muscles weren’t the only massive things about him.

I was intimidated and far out of my element.

But that didn’t stop me from wanting to touch him more.

Touch himeverywhere.

Staying over my sweater, he moved his hand from my ass to span my side, traveling up before pausing with his thumb stretched just under the curve of my breast. It moved back down as he grabbed my hip and tugged me closer. Holding me against his hardness.

That time when it drifted up, he pushed under my shirt so it was skin against skin.

He stopped at the same spot and stroked back down, repeating the infuriating pattern until I nearly wept with frustration.

Frustration that spiked when he removed his hand from beneath my top to clasp my jaw while his other stayed firmly on the back of my head. Holding me in place.

Forcing my mouth open as he took what he wanted.

A muffled groan rumbled up his chest, and his fingers trembled when he violently tore his mouth away. His breaths came in heavy pants as he rested his forehead against mine. “You have no idea how much it kills me to do this, but we have more to talk about.”

“Can it wait?” I whispered without thought, my fingers running through his hair before dropping to clutch his flannel.

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