Page 48 of From Air

I unbuckle my seat belt and lean over the console to cover his mouth with my hand. “Enough with the mocking.”

He pulls my hand away, exposing a massive grin on his face that’s mere inches from mine.

I know it’s going to happen.

He knows it’s going to happen.

The only unanswered question is who’s going to cave first.

I think it’s me because I lean in closer, but he leans toward me simultaneously, and we meet in the middle.

The kiss is unhurried.

His hand skates along my neck. I grip a fistful of his hoodie while my mouth opens wide for his tongue to tease mine. It’s a heady mix of forbidden desire and utter weakness.

“No one’s getting evicted,” I murmur when he breaks the kiss to suck the sensitive skin below my ear.

“No one,” he whispers, gently tugging my hair so I’ll give him more access to my neck.

I have a painful need to rub up against him. I’d give anything to feel any part of his body brush along my breast or slide between my legs. My breaths fall from my lips in tiny puffs. I’m panting.

Showing zero control, I start to crawl over the console.

“Jaymes,” he mumbles, grabbing my hips to stop me.

“I’ll move out,” I say, without an ounce of blood circulating to my brain.

He chuckles. “You don’t mean that.”

I win. Wedging myself between him and the steering wheel, I thread my fingers through his hair and kiss him. Whatever’s been going on between us has been the slowest torture of my life.

I break the kiss and rest my forehead on his. “You can’t go to Miami with me.”

“Why?” His hand slides up my side under my jacket, stopping at my breast. His thumb brushes over my shirt, teasing my nipple.

“Fuck you, Fitz.” I breathe heavily, rocking my pelvis, longing to feel himeverywhere. “You know why.”

“You don’t trust me?” His other hand does the same thing, making my breath hitch. He’s hard between my legs, thumbs slowly circling my nipples.

I’m ready to snap.

“I ...” Again, I rock my hips.

And again.

And again.

“I hate you,” I whisper over his lips.

He kisses me.

I moan. Not groan. It’s embarrassing but unavoidable, like the way I grind against him. Every cell in my body feels heavy and hyperresponsive to his touch. Though I’m not going to let him win.

Why would my orgasm be a win for him? I can’t explain it, but that’s what it would be.

Fitz grins against my lips. “Jaymes, are you about to—”

“No.” I grab his hands, removing them from my breasts while my heart thrashes around in my chest. I’m a hundred degrees and out of breath.

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