Page 278 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
His eyes take me in as if memorizing every line of my face. I do the same to him, learning all the new lines, dips, and dark dusting stubble from age.
“I never want to let you go.” His lips find the curve of my shoulder, pressing a kiss there.
I tilt my head to the side, giving him better access, and he takes it, his mouth trailing up the side of my neck, his teeth grazing my earlobe just enough to make me shiver.
“Then don’t.” I press my flat palms against his chest.
His arousal presses against my stomach, a silent acknowledgment of the desire that simmers just beneath the surface.
But we don’t rush it.
There’s something sacred about this slow build, this quiet exploration of each other.
He spins me away, ripping the cord out of me ear. We laugh, replacing it and he pulls me back tighter.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
He smiles a small, private smile that’s just for me. “I’m thinking about how lucky I am to have this. To have you.”
His words send a wave of emotion through me, and I feel my eyes well up with unshed tears.
Tears.
Just the thought of it makes me cringe inside. But I take a breath and don’t let my fears invade. It’s okay to let my feelings out, as much as my first instinct is to keep them hidden inside so I never get hurt again.
I press my hand against his cheek, my thumb brushing his jawline. “I feel the same.”
The next kiss is hungry, yet still tender, a perfect balance of passion and restraint. His tongue brushes against mine, and a jolt of desire starts low in my belly and spreads through my entire body.
We do this long after our song ends. Long after the song that follows. Kissing and touching over the robe, while swaying to the melody. Like we’re those two teenagers unsure how far to go but completely satisfied where we are right now.
Kissing.
Caressing.
Dancing.
When his teeth graze my bottom lip, I can’t hold back anymore. I gasp, silently demanding more. He swallows thesound, his tongue plunging in with a hunger that makes my knees weak.
But then he spins me away, managing to take the earbud out first. I don’t know how I don’t collapse. When he pulls me to him, his front presses my back and he replaces the earbud. He’s damn determined not to let this go further than making out. It’s a bit of a thrill.
“Please,” I’m not even sure what I’m asking for.
His hand slides up from my stomach, his fingers brushing the underside of my breast.
Not grabbing.
Not squeezing.
Just teasing.
The pad of his thumb traces maddeningly slow circles that tighten my nipples.
I arch into his touch, my breath coming faster. “Hart—”
“Shh.” His lips press to the spot just below my ear.
His free hand tilts my chin, turning my face just enough to kiss me again. Slower, deeper, his tongue sliding against mine.
