Page 60 of There's Pumpkin About You
I become nervous as he leans forward, and seeing his eyes darken in such a dangerous way sends my smile running.
His gaze flicks down to my lips again, but this time they stay there as he licks his own as if he’s imagining the taste and thoroughly enjoying it.
He looks mesmerized as he mumbles, “They make you mine.”
And then his lips find mine, and I’m lost to him completely.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
WREN
The way he kisses moves past possessive. Gus isn’t just kissing me, he’sclaimingme, owning every part of me with the movement of his lips against mine.
A low moan leaves his mouth and it snaps me out of my surprise and spurs me on. My arms loop themselves around his neck, my hand running through what I now know to be incredibly soft waves.
I feel his hand grip my waist tightly as his thumb skates across and even under layers of clothes; it has its intended reaction. Electricity vibrates through me, undeniable and unavoidable. For so long I’ve been trying to ignore the tension between Gus and I, always trying to convince myself that it’s nothing when this kiss shows that it’s obviously been somewhat more than “something”. Anger and attraction have always come hand in hand when I think of August Finch, and now the two have blended together until it’s become a bundle of want and desire that is fueled by annoyance and frustration.
No one has ever kissed me with so much fervor, so much passion. When his tongue skates across my lip, I happily grant him access, excited to see what else he seems to be effortlessly amazing at. He tastes of beer and carnal desire and I allow myself to get lost in the taste of him, the feel of him against me and the sound of him as he growls possessively.
“August.” I breathe out his name like a secret shared between us.
“You make me actually like the sound of my name, sweetheart. Be careful, otherwise I might feel obliged to see how it sounds during other activities.”
I lean in for another kiss. “You mean like whilst I’m begging you to shut up?”
He chuckles lowly. “Among other things.”
“Are ‘other things’ not what you had in mind when you asked me to come back with you?”
“Begged is more like it, but again, my answer is that I don’t know.” His hand temporarily leaves my waist to push a curl away from my face before returning. “I never seem to be sure of anything where you’re concerned. I think one thing and then it ends up being something completely different.”
I smile softly. “I could say the same for you.”
He smiles back so softly, a softness that you wouldn’t expect to be on someone who comes across so hard and prickly, and yet it suits him perfectly, almost as if for the first time I’m looking at the real August Finch.
I find myself tracing the harsh lines of his face, the jaggedness of his jawline and the sharpness of his cheekbones. I watch those dark brown eyes as they shine with a hundred different emotions, none of which I’m able to decipher. I like it that way, though. I admire that August Finch will forever remain an enigma to me and everyone around him.
“Stay with me tonight,” he says, his thumb rubbing circles on my hip. When he sees my hesitation, he adds, “There will be no pressure on you to do anything, Wren. I just want to spend the night with you beside me.”
I huff out a laugh. “This is so surreal.”
He rubs his eyes as he chuckles. “You’re telling me.”
He stands to his full height, holding out a hand for me to take. I do and he leads me down the hallway to the room which I woke up in just the other week.
Which reminds me…
“What was I doing in your bedroom the other week? So much happened that day I forgot to ask.”
He glances back at me over his shoulder. “You mean when you made me burn myself?”
“No idea what you’re talking about, but yeah.”
“Is that a joke?” he asks, genuinely confused.
“Yes, it’s a joke.”
“Right,” he mumbles. We enter his bedroom and I watch him as he slumps down onto the bed. “The storm was too strong for you to drive home. It was the only option.”
