Page 15 of Spring Fling

When he reaches me, he raises his hand—slow, careful—and cups the side of my cheek. His work-callused thumb brushes my cheekbone with unbelievable tenderness.

I lean into the touch instinctively.

His heated gaze searches mine, something almost vulnerable flickering there.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, his voice husky with need.

I nod. “Make me yours.”

The heat in his eyes ignites into fire. He pulls me closer, an arm wrapped around my waist, as his lips crash against mine. I grip his shoulder, angling my hips to press more intimately against him.

The tentativeness of before is gone.

We’re both so tightly coiled, so aroused, we’re both close to bursting.

Especially now that we’ve lit this match.

The kiss grows deeper, hungrier, as I melt against him. My hands find the hem of his shirt and pull it loose from his pants. I slide them under, tracing the warm, taut muscles on his back.

He groans into my mouth, setting every nerve in my body on fire.

We shuffle backward, blindly, until my knees hit the edge of the bed. Wade catches me before I can fall, laughing softly against my mouth.

His arms wrap around me, lifting me effortlessly onto the mattress.

He hovers over me, his hands braced on either side of my hips, his body heat searing through the thin fabric of our clothes.

Our chests are raising up and down as we catch our breaths. Our gazes are locked on each other.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs. He brushes a strand of hair back from my forehead. “You’re so beautiful, it almost hurts to look at you.”

A giggle bubbles out of me, nearly choking me in my still labored breaths. “Well, you’re so handsome I can’t breathe.”

He lowers himself more fully on me. His weight pleasantly crushes me against the bed. His hard length presses at the apex of my thighs, intimately teasing me.

He nuzzles the side of my neck, sending fresh shivers through me. “It sounds like we’re well matched then.”

He ducks his head to trail kisses down the curve of my throat, across my collarbone, over the tops of my breasts. Each brush of his mouth leaves sparks in its wake.

My hands roam his body freely now — over broad shoulders, the hard planes of his chest, the faint scar along his ribs that makes me want to know the story behind it.

He pulls back enough to peel off his still-damp shirt and toss it aside. I sit up and do the same with my dress, shimmying it over my head and dropping it to the floor.

The moment stretches out between us.

Both of us bare now but for his boxers and my bra. Both of us breathing so hard, our hearts hammering in unison.

God, he’s like a statue. Chiseled from stone. All muscle and strength, but with a softness in his eyes that undoes me more than anything else.

He reaches out, trailing his fingertips lightly down my arm. I shiver at the featherlight touch. He lowers his head again, trailing his lips over my now-bared skin.

I clench my eyes shut against the intensity of feelings he’s churning inside of me.

“Tell me something,” I whisper.

“Anything.”

“What did you expect was going to happen tonight?”

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