Page 94 of Masked Sins
I want to tell her everything from the time we were apart. I want to confess my sins, drop to my knees,begher to look at me with something other than hatred. I’d do fucking anything to be in her life again—even if just as her stepbrother.
My heart broke that day, and life hasn’t been the same since.
I miss her, sure.
But I alsoneedher.
And that scares me so fucking much.
She’s watching me with careful concern—a crease between her brows as she studies my face. I’ve never really been able to hide my emotions, so maybe she can see exactly what I’m thinking. Maybe she can feel the torture it causes me to stand so close to her.
“How drunk are you?” I ask, my voice low.
“Very,” she answers, eyes piercing into mine.
“I should get you inside,” I tell her, stepping closer so that I back her up against the back wall of the restaurant.
“You should,” she agrees.
I place a hand on the wall above her head, and she sucks in a sharp breath. My heart is pounding inside my chest, and my nerves are frazzled and electric with every second that passes between us.
I’m entranced by the silent sadness of her face, and being near her makes me want to hold her and never let go.
I’m sorry,I think.
Reaching up, I place my other hand against the side of her face. “Layla,” I say, eyes tracking down to her lips.
“Orion,” she breathes, chest rising and falling. She smells like a mixture of strawberries, tequila, and smoke—our scents combining and reforming into something that compels me to dip my head lower.
“Tell me not to kiss you,” I say, breathing her in.
“Don’t kiss me,” she whispers, her pupils dark as she scans my face.
I don’t listen.
Instead, I gently press my lips against hers. Layla immediately opens her mouth and wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer.
I am so fucked.
My tongue traces the soft fullness of her lips, though I want to lick and devour every inch of her.
One time, in college, I did ecstasy. It felt like my whole body was on fucking fire—like just touching someone would make me come.
This is a hundred times better.
She moves against me with a hunger that contradicts everything I thought I knew about her, about how she felt about me. It’s hungry, crazed… demanding.
I move my hands behind her head, fisting her long, wavy hair with one hand as the other skims down her back. Gripping her waist, I pull her into me, and she gasps into my mouth when she feels how fucking hard I am.
This is how much I want you,I want to whisper against her neck.
But I don’t say anything—too dazed by the fact that I’m finally kissing her to do anything other than to savor it completely.
Savorhercompletely.
This might be my only chance.
She quivers in my arms as I kiss her jaw, her neck, her collarbone… I want her. I’ve always wanted her. There has never been anyone elsebuther, and it’s very fucking evident by the way my heart is beating a thousand beats per second, as my hands shake as I touch her, as my hips rut against her. I plant kisses on her bare shoulders, letting my jacket fall to the ground. She moans and runs a hand through my hair as I come back up to her face, recapturing her lips with mine.
