Page 93 of Broken Trails
That voice in my head, the one that’s been warring with the urge to keep my distance from her, finally says—
Fuck it.
My no-kissing rule? Out the fucking window. My hand closes around her jaw while the other slides into the back of her hair, twisting just enough to angle her face toward mine before I crash my mouth to hers. Hard. Hungry. Exactly the way I’ve wanted since the moment she rolled into town and flipped my world on its head. Her lips part on a gasp, but I don’t give her a second to think. I take. And she lets me.
Zoe’s mouth opens beneath mine, and the sound that slips out punches through me like a live wire. Her moan spills into the space between us.
My response is instinct. Primal.
A growl starts in my chest and vibrates between us as I crush her closer, one arm locking tight around her waist. The other slides down, my palms finding the curve of her ass. I grip both round cheeks and drag her against me, lifting her just enough that her heels barely kiss the floor.
She gasps into my mouth but doesn’t pull away. She only kisses me harder.
Our tongues clash. It’s not gentle. It’s a fight. A challenge. A desperate tangle of months of tension, snide remarks, and stolen glances, all boiling over into this one moment.
She tastes like peppermint and defiance. My cock throbs against the press of her body, the friction maddening through too many fucking layers. I want more. I want everything.
But right now, I want her to know I’m not going anywhere.
That I see her.
That I want her.
That she’s mine to handle. If she lets me.
And judging by the way her fingers twist into my shirt, dragging me impossibly closer, she just might. I bite her lip. Not hard, but just enough to pull a gasp from her mouth and make her jolt in my grip. Still holding her ass, fingers digging into those perfect curves, I feel it again—that moan.
This one spills straight into my mouth as Zoe presses against me, tongue brushing mine once more before she suddenly pulls away, breath stuttering. The second she puts space between us, my body revolts. A sudden chill hits the place where she was pressed up against me. She’s panting. Hard. Eyes wide. Then she lifts a hand to her mouth, brushing her bottom lip that was just between my teeth.
Did I go too far? Was I too rough? Fuck. She doesn’t say anything right away. Just stares. Red lips parted, pupils blown.
“I should… take a shower,” she mutters and grabs her bag, disappearing into the bathroom without waiting for a response.
I just stand there, hard as fucking steel, not moving. The room’s quiet again, except for the sound of the water starting behind the door. I press the heel of my palm against my cock, which doesn’t help.
I haven’t even seen Zoe naked, and I already know she’s phenomenal. I picture it all—wet hair stuck to her shoulders, skin flushed from the heat, water sliding between those perfect tits I’ve stared at through sheer fabric all goddamn day.
I scrub a hand down my face and turn toward the bed. My hoodie’s mostly dry now, so I strip it off and yank my jeans down too, just needing some relief from how tight they’ve gotten. I grab the edge of the duvet and peel it back, needing something to do with my hands. Air the bed out, just in case. Who fucking knows how long it’s been sitting here. Untouched, or worse, not.
Leaning down, I check the pillows. The sheets smell clean. The faint hint of detergent and softener. Someone’s been through. I’ll take that as a win.
I roll my shoulders out, still half-hard and uncomfortable as hell, and try to breathe through it.
The bathroom door clicks open behind me, and I instantly straighten. Zoe steps out, now barefoot, towel in one hand, her clothes in the other. She’s wearing an oversized white T-shirt, hanging off one shoulder, and black shorts that barely qualify as clothing.
Of course, no bra, and I can’t fucking stop staring. I drag my gaze down to her legs—to those thighs that have been in my head since the first time she walked into the shop—and somehow, she looks just as fuckable as she did in those stockings and sexy red-bottom heels.
My cock, which had started to settle, twitches back to life. Her eyes drop, and I catch it. Because she’s now noticing the situation in my briefs . Her gaze lands on my semi, pressing against the fabric, and she doesn’t look away fast enough. Doesn’t even try to hide it. She turns, but fuck, it lingers. I notice. Fuck, do I notice. The tension between us could choke the air. It’s thick. Electric.
I nod toward the bed. “Sheets smell clean, at least.”
Her brow lifts. “I’m not so worried about the sheets anymore.”
My throat tightens. “No?”
A flicker plays on her mouth. “You look… comfortable.”
“I am now,” I murmur.
