Page 25 of Fourteen Years

He quirked a brow, his eyebrow ring catching my eye momentarily. Even that was hot. Piercing and tattoos. I was a sucker for both.

“You saying you think I’m hot?” he laughed, obviously joking.

“Basically. And way outa my league at this point in our lives.” I joked.

“Whoa,” he said, pulling me to a gentle stop. “You are anywhere but out of my league, Monica.” he looked down at me, the stars in the sky twinkling overhead.

I blushed.

“What I see is a young girl I fell in love with in high school, that has matured into a fucking gorgeous woman. Who has an amazing body, that has grown and brought life to two beautiful little girls. That body has nurtured them and sustained them. If you don’t think that turns me on, you’re crazy.” he said, his voice deeper now, resting his hands on my hips.

They felt like scorching heat through my lightweight dress. I was hyper aware of how close he was to me, towering over me. If I took a deep enough breath, my chest would brush against his. I found myself swaying closer to him, hands resting softly against his chest.God, these muscles. I felt like a sixteen-year-old again. I wanted him to kiss me, but didn’t know how to ask for it. The feel of his mouth on mine a week ago had awoken something in me I thought had died with Paul.

His finger trailed down my jawline, sliding under my chin and tilting my head up more. His green eyes were darker, more mossy, heated, and made my entire body warm.

“Ask for it.” he spoke, his voice low and practically a growl.

I shivered in response, playing coy.

“For what?” I said, my voice unintentionally husky. I blinked up at him, shocked at the reaction my body had to him.

Two of his fingers clasped my chin.

“For what your eyes are fucking begging me for, Monica.” he brought his face down low, nose barely brushing against mine. His breath was hot against my face, and I was gasping, breathing back into him.

“Kiss me.” I stated, more breathy than I’d intended.

He growled and it rumbled low in his chest, his hand moving up, threading through the hair at the nape of my neck and clenching to tilt my head back more. His other muscled arm banded around my waist, drawing me tight against him, creating sparks everywhere our bodies touched.

Then his lips were on mine.

He commanded the kiss and my body. Nothing had changed there. He was just a man instead of a boy now. Mouth slanting over mine, my lips parted on a soft moan as his tongue took possession of my mouth. Stroking my own against his, he groaned and clenched his hand tighter in my hair. I felt like my body was coming awake at that bite of pain mixed with the pleasure he was giving me in this kiss. My hands gripped his shirt, pulling him further against me and arching into him.

I didn’t care we were in the middle of the city park and anyone could walk up on us. I wanted this. The feeling of being out of control. Not having to worry about or fix anything. Losing myself in someone stronger made me feel safe. I moved my hands up around his neck, kissing him back just as hungrily. I drug my nails along the sides of his neck gently, remembering even all these years later that it drove him nuts.

“Fuck,” he muttered, against my lips. We were both panting, breathless, breathing in each other’s oxygen.

“Fuck it.” he said, pushing me back against the light pole on the path we were on. He wasn’t one to push us into the shadows. He didn’t care who saw us. He was daring someone to walk up on us. It just drove me higher, knowing he didn’t care. He wanted to be seen with me.

“You taste amazing.” he growled against my ear, still gripping my head, holding it motionless. He rocked his hips against me, his denim covered hips coming to rest in the softer cradle of mine. It brought a friction against the cleft of my thighs that made me moan softly.

He nipped at my ear lobe with his teeth, sucking the hurt away gently.

“How wet are you for me?” he asked, his breath hot and moist against my ear.

I blushed. I’d forgotten how vocal he’d always been, and closed my eyes, embarrassed suddenly at my body’s response to him.

He pulled my hair gently.

“Look at me. Now.” he commanded, pulling back.

I opened my eyes, staring into his, lost.

“How wet are you for me?” he repeated.

“Soaked.” I whispered, breathless.

He growled again, ducking his head and kissing along my neck, before releasing me and pulling back. I took pleasure in the fact he had to adjust himself in his pants with a groan. I stayed, leaning against the pole, gathering my wits. Panting, watching as he brushed both hands through his hair, before he looked at me. His eyes raked over my body taking me in, at how he’d caused me to come apart so quickly disheveled.

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