Page 47 of His Hot Mess

“For what I'm about to do," he said, his voice plucking a note deep inside of me. Then he lunged forward and swept me up into his arms, bringing his mouth onto mine with a fire that made everything lose all meaning. Everything except the feeling ofthis.

His searched my mouth with his tongue, flickering it across the edges of my lips, the corners, my teeth, and when he pulled away, I drew in a hard, ragged breath. My heart was crashing against my ribs, my whole body aching with need unmet from the last time we’d been together.

I leaned against him, not trusting my feet to hold me. “Chris,” I said.

He looked at me expectantly. He was waiting for me to say stop. To tell him what a stupid thing this was.

And I should have. This was exactly what I said I wouldn’t do.

But blood was rushing in my ears, my whole-body throbbing with my thundering heartbeat. The words didn’t come, because this was where I wanted to be. Maybe I’d known that there was no hope of staying away from him all along.

This was what had always needed to happen.

“Do that again,” I said.

And he did. The kiss was heady, deep, frantic, desperate. Like we needed it as much as breathing.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against my mouth. “I’m sorry…” He kissed me again.

“Don’t be sorry,” I whispered back. “Not for this.”

As if that was the permission he needed, Chris’s hands slipped under my ass and he lifted me up, carrying me to the pile of wood at the side of the store. The stack was only about three feet wide, and a few feet off the ground, so he had to kneel to get me down. Anyone else would have stumbled, but Chris's arms flexed, the hardness of his biceps against my sides sending flames through me as he kneeled and lowered me smoothly onto the wood. Pulling the hem of my shirt out of my jeans, he yanked it over my head in one smooth movement, then kissed me again as he reached behind me to unhook my bra.

"Sadie," he said as he pulled away, "I couldn't stop thinking about you all weekend."

Still looking in my eyes, he slipped the bra straps off my shoulders and dropped it to the floor.

“Tell me it wasn’t just me.” He looked down at my exposed breasts with an almost pained expression on his face, drawing his rough fingers down the curve of their sides. Though he hadn’t touched them yet, my nipples hardened to tight nubs from his gaze, and the proximity of his hands.

“Of course it wasn’t just you, Chris,” I breathed, running my hands through his hair. It was soft between my fingers, mussed as I drew my hands down his face.

He brushed my pebbled nipples with his thumbs. I gasped at the roughness of his fingers on their sensitive surface.

Still I could feel him hesitating. Holding back. Even as I could see the bulge between his legs grow heavier, the need in his eyes deepen.

"Chris," I said. "If you want to stop, I—”

"Do you want to stop?" he said, looking into my eyes. He withdrew his hands from my breasts, sitting back on his heels. He lowered his hands to his sides;he looked like a runner on a track.

Or an animal about to pounce.

I should say yes. My rational brain told me to say stop.

Not stopping was exactly what Lucy expected I would do.

Fuck Lucy.

"No,” I said. "I don't want to stop. I want everything. And I want it now."

Like a lion, Chris leapt up, grabbing my shoulders, his mouth hitting mine in a bruising kiss. This time he didn't stop. He kept his tongue on mine as he slid his hands down my back, the softness of his lips against mine a sharp contrast to his rough skin on my back. He kept his lips on mine as he pressed me against him, only stopping when I pushed him back to reach for the buttons of his shirt.

I moved with a calmness that surprised me. I should be overcome with the level of need I felt. But something kept me steady, like I was gliding on top of an ocean of need. Like it was my choice when to dive into the water.

I wanted to prolong this moment. If this was a bad idea, I wanted to make it last.

Chris seemed to sense that I needed to control how this went, and after unbuckling his tool belt and letting it clank to the concrete floor, he reached forward, but only to tuck my hair behind my ears on both sides.

“Have I told you how fucking beautiful you are?" he asked.

---