Page 30 of Misery
His mouth crashes into mine with none of last night's gentleness.
I gasp against his lips.
He takes advantage, deepening the kiss.
His tongue against mine.
His teeth are nipping my bottom lip.
One hand releases my wrist to tangle in my wet hair, angling my head where he wants it.
I'm drowning, burning.
Every nerve ending firing at once.
I press closer, needing more, not sure what more is but knowing he can give it to me.
His other hand drops to my waist.
Slides under the shirt to find bare skin.
I shiver at the contact, and he groans into my mouth.
"Fuck," he mutters against my lips. "Elfe, we need to stop."
"Why?"
"Because you're not ready for where this goes."
"What if I am?"
He pulls back enough to look at me.
His pupils are blown wide, breathing harsh. "You're not wearing anything under my clothes."
It's not a question. Heat floods my face. "My underwear was wet, remember? You hung them out to dry."
"Fuck," he repeats. His hand tightens on my waist. "You can't say things like that."
"Why?"
"Because my control has limits." But his thumb strokes bare skin under the shirt. Small circles that make me want things I can't name. "And you push every one of them."
"Good."
"Elfe—"
My phone rings and I tune it out for a second until I realize it’s my mom.
We break apart. I'm shaking. He looks wrecked.
"Answer it," he says roughly.
I do, trying to steady my voice. "Hey, Mom."
"Are you coming home? Your father's about to send a search party. You know how impatient he can be."
"We're leaving soon."
