Page 15 of September's Bad Boy: Cooper
He leans in slowly, his hand lifting to cradle my cheek. Our lips meet, soft at first, tentative. Then I shift toward him, and the kiss deepens. His hands grip my hips, grounding me, pulling me closer.
He breaks the kiss with a groan, pressing his forehead to mine. “Are you sure?”
I answer by kissing him again.
In one swift motion, he lifts me, setting me on the counter like I weigh nothing. His mouth trails down my neck, and his hands roam my sides. I cling to him, drowning in the heat, in the feeling of finally being where I’m supposed to be.
But then he stops, his breath ragged against my collarbone. I feel him pull back just enough to look at me, his dark eyes searching my face.
"We should slow down," he says, though his hands remain firmly planted on either side of my hips.
The counter is cold against my legs, but everywhere Cooper touches burns. I can smell his soap, something clean and masculine, mixed with the faint scent of his cologne.
"Should we?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
His thumb traces along my jawline. "I don't want you to regret this tomorrow."
The tenderness in his voice makes my heart ache. I reach up to touch his face, feeling the slight roughness of stubble beneath my palm.
"The only thing I'd regret is stopping," I tell him.
Something shifts in his expression—surprise, maybe relief. He leans down to kiss me again, slower this time, deeper.
His hands slip under my shirt, warm against my skin, and I shiver at the contact. The flash drive sits forgotten on the counter beside us, our mission temporarily eclipsed by something more urgent, more primal.
"We could take this somewhere more comfortable," Cooper suggests, his voice rough with want.
“I don’t know, I had this fantasy of you taking me on the kitchen counter while Jason was absorbed in his video games downstairs…”
Cooper's eyes widen, and for a moment he looks genuinely shocked before a slow smile curves his lips.
"Jesus, Riley," he says, his voice dropping to that gravelly tone that makes my stomach flip. "You can't say things like that."
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Why not? It's the truth."
His hands tighten on my hips. "Because it makes me want to do very bad things to you right here."
"I'm counting on it," I whisper against his mouth.
Cooper's pupils dilate, and I watch his control slip another notch. His grip on my hips becomes possessive, fingers digging in just enough to make me gasp.
"You're going to be the death of me," he murmurs, capturing my mouth again.
This kiss is different—hungrier, more desperate. I lose myself in the heat of his mouth, the way his tongue traces my bottom lip before delving deeper. My hands fist in his t-shirt, pulling him impossibly closer until there's no space left between us.
He breaks away to trail kisses down my throat, finding that spot where my pulse hammers wildly. I arch into him, a soft moan escaping before I can stop it.
"I've wanted this for so long," he says against my skin, his voice rough with confession. "Wanted you."
The admission sends heat spiraling through me. I tilt his face up so I can look into his eyes—those dark, intense eyes that have haunted my dreams for months.
"How long?" I ask, needing to know.
His eyes search mine, vulnerable in a way I've never seen before. "Since you were eighteen," he admits quietly. "That summer before you went away to college. You practically lived in my backyard by the pool, in a different bikini almost every day. My favorite was the blue one that matched your eyes... God, Riley, I tried not to notice. You were Jason's girl, and you were young, and I was?—"
"A mess," I finish softly.
He nods, shame flickering across his features. "I was a mess. And you deserved better than what I could give you then."
