She stares at my mouth.
My head spins. Everything spins except her. I don’t know if I’m breathing. All I can think about is her skin and what it would feel like to have her body pressed against mine.
Nothing between us.
Raw.
Bare.
Stripped.
She tugs her lip between her teeth. I press up harder against the fridge behind me.
It’s pathetic, really. She’s got me cowering like a cornered animal, and I couldn’t move if I tried.
She steps closer. We’re almost chest to chest. Her fingertips brush the outside of my thigh, up the seam of my jeans.
I shudder.
She drags her hand higher, all the way up to my hip, and then slips her fingers under my blazer to hook around one of my belt loops.
My back arches, pressing my chest to hers.
She gasps.
I moan.
She’s tall enough she has to bend down a little to whisper in my ear. “We shouldn’t do this, should we?”
Her voice is hoarse. I can feel her hand trembling where she’s still clutching my jeans.
I shake my head even as I press my chest harder against hers.
“No,” I rasp.
She tugs on my belt loop. My hips buck against her pelvis.
“Do you want me to stop?”
Her breath is hot on my neck.
“No,” I answer.
That’s all it takes.
We crash together like the moment a storm strikes, like the second when the sky splits apart.
We kiss like we’re angry, all teeth and tongues and furious, bruising lips. She grips my hips in both her hands, her fingertips digging in hard enough to make me gasp into her mouth.
I thread my hands into her hair, tugging her down to me while I slide my tongue past her lips to taste her.
She’s sweet and spicy all at once, like mulled wine on the stove.
She groans before yanking me off the fridge. She stumbles backwards, and I use the moment to my advantage, flipping us around so I’m backing her into the wall now.
I trap her by the shoulders, my palms pressing flat against the lapels of her blazer, and then I slide my knee between her thighs.
She jerks like I’ve shocked her and then mutters a curse against my mouth. I grin, relaxing my hold on her a little.