Page 104 of Faking the Pass
It also made me feel just the tiniest bit sad, but in a good way, like the perfect ending of a book you’d loved and didn’t want to leave.
So fitting for this day.
Just as I drew in another deep breath to savor it, Presley spoke, his voice rumbling beneath my cheek on his chest.
“That’s my favorite smell in the world. As a kid when I’d see it starting to rain, I’d always run outside.”
He chuckled. “My mom would fuss at me for getting all wet and tracking water into the house.”
Though I stayed quiet and still, my heart had taken off like a sprinter. Now it was running laps around my chest so fast I was almost dizzy.
I’dneverknown anyone else who shared that particular scent preference.
Most people, if asked, would say their favorite smell was something like baking bread or flowers or name some cologne or perfume.
Presley had just described the exact same scenario that had occurred countless times throughout my own childhood. What were the odds?
It scared me a little.
“I like it too,” I said softly.
And I like you.Too much.
It was a good thing we were leaving tomorrow. Any more of this, and I’d have been falling for him.
Hard.
That was the last thing I needed to do.
There was no way this thing with Presley—whatever it had become during our stay on the island—was going to last.
No matter how good it felt right now.
No matter how loudly my instincts were screaming that this was something special.
I’d already seen where trusting my gut got me. It had led me into the screwed up situation with Randy.
Before that, my instincts had told me that Presley had liked me as much in high school as I’d liked him. Wrong there, too.
Clearly, my internal compass was broken. From now on, I would be following a trusty roadmap.
And it didnotlead to Presley Lowe, no matter what kind of “high school fantasies” he might have had about sex with me. Clearly they’d expired pretty quickly and he’d moved on to another subject to fantasize about.
As if trying to prove me wrong, he ran a hand down my back, tracing lazy patterns on my bare skin with his fingers.
“Your skin is so soft,” he whispered, and just like that, I was turned on again. I wanted him on top of me, inside of me. I wanted to hold him with every part of my body.
His other hand stroked the arm I had slung over his waist then coasted over my shoulder, down my side, and moved to cup my breast.
His thumb prodded the nipple gently, and the fire he’d kindled in me an astounding number of times in the past few days, sparked and came to new life.
That map of mine? It was in serious jeopardy of being incinerated. But right now, I didn’t care.
While we were alone here together, I had no chance of resisting him, so I didn’t even try.
I lifted my face, so our mouths could meet and begin the dance that always led to ecstasy.
As our tongues tangled, Presley let out a sensual groan that reached down inside me and poured gasoline on that fire. I pulled him on top of me with a desperation that would be embarrassing if I couldn’t tell he was just as desperate for me.
