Page 44 of Say You Will

He indicates the next with a sweep of his arm. “Closet.”

Finally, he points to the last one. “My room. If you need anything at all, feel free to come find me. My door is always open.”

Oh. Oh, this is . . . A jolt of excitement goes through me before I talk myself down from it. I’m sure he means if I need fresh towels or an extra blanket or something that I shouldn’t bother Bronwyn about—

I don’t even see him cross the floor back to me, but suddenly Henry is inches away, lifting my hand to his chest.

“Whatever you need, Franki. Come to me.”

I blink up at him like an owl, my breath catching as his meaning becomes inescapable. Henry is flirting with me. Heart thundering wildly, I lift my free hand and lightly touch my fingertips to his lower lip. “You’re saying . . . if I need towels . . .?”

He quirks a casual eyebrow, but his chest lifts as he sucks in air like fireplace bellows as he speaks against my fingers. “Come to me.”

“I see. And, if my pillow is lumpy?”

He leans closer, his voice so much hoarser than usual. “Come to me.”

“What if . . . I’m cold?”

“I’ll be devastated,” he says quietly, his breath warming my skin, “if you don’t come to me.”

His head dips closer. I close my eyes as the clean scent of him floods my senses. His lips are soft against my fingertips, andhis heart pounds beneath the palm of my other hand, the crisp cotton of his shirt warm where we’re touching.

If he were taking my pulse, he’d know my own heart is pounding, too, with a beat so loud that it thunders in my ears.

As if he senses the direction of my thoughts, he circles my throat, his thumb on one side and the calloused pads of fingertips on the other, gently skating over my carotid. He doesn’t exert the slightest pressure, but the world halts its rotation in response, throwing me headlong into something I can’t brace for. I was going seventy miles an hour on the highway, and someone slammed on the brakes. I’m in the passenger seat without so much as a seatbelt to halt my trajectory.

I open my eyes, and his blue gaze arrests mine, searching. Searching.

He reaches up a hand and removes his glasses, tossing them onto my suitcase. Then he runs his left hand through my hair until he’s cradling my head. He’s anchoring me. One hand collaring me, the other moving my head where he wants it.

He must feel me swallow beneath his palm because he frowns in response. “Am I making you nervous?”

“Yes. Am I makingyounervous?”

“Fuck yes,” he says fervently.

Then I kiss Henry McRae.

fourteen

Henry

Wild Things | Alessia Cara

This wasn’t on myschedule yet, but I’m in it now, and I’m not sorry.

The physicality. The instinctive reactions. The back and forth. The way I’ve lost conscious awareness of everything in the world, just the two of us and what we’re doing right now, feels like fighting. But so much better. It’s my body and hers. The two of us coming together. Pulling apart and coming back again. The way we anticipate each other feels like we’re circling a target,but rather than colliding for maximum damage, we’re all about feeling good.

So. Damn. Good.

Franki’s lips are soft. Her skin beneath my palm, pure warm silk. Her tongue tangling with mine shoots electric arousal straight to my cock.

I hadn’t expected kissing Franki to be like this. Sex, maybe.

I explore Franki’s mouth with mine. Clutch her head and move it one way, then the other. The silky strands of her hair spill through my fingers and over my forearm, and I slide my other hand from her neck across her collarbone, her shoulder, and the long, elegant line of her arm, finally coming to rest at her waist and tugging her closer.

Adrenaline floods through me, my veins alight with it, but, unlike combat, I don’t have the slightest desire to hurt or defend. I want to turn this heightened awareness into pure, decadent, pleasure for her, the way it is for me.

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