Page 53 of Welded Defender
My thumb finds the curve where her jaw meets her ear. Her skin burns against mine, fever-warm and electric. She leans into my palm like a cat seeking warmth, but her shoulders stay squared, chin lifted in defiance. Her eyes lock with mine—pupils wide in the dim light, unblinking, daring.
"Kiss me," she whispers, the words barely audible but cutting through the silence like a blade.
CHAPTER 28
Marcy
“Kiss me,” I whisper.
He hesitates. “Marcy?—”
I don’t wait. I press my mouth to his. His lips part against mine, and the light from the kitchen dims behind my closed eyelids. My fingers find the collar of his shirt, the fabric warm from his skin. The scent of him—soap and something like cedar—fills my lungs. His thumb traces a circle at the small of my back, and I arch toward him, eliminating the space between us. A shiver runs from the base of my spine to my shoulders. When he pulls back just enough to catch his breath, his eyes are dark, pupils wide, and I feel the tremor in his hands as they steady me. I haven’t felt this in so long—this flutter beneath my ribs, this dizzy rush that makes me forget the shadow from just minutes ago.
“Marcy—” Landon cups my cheek. “We don’t have to?—”
“Yes.” I get to my feet. I turn away, taking a few steps to steady the pounding in my chest. I stop in the middle of the kitchen and turn. “Yes. We do. At—at least I want to. I want this. I want you. I don’t want to think about anything but what you make me feel.”
His eyes search mine as he stands. He cups my cheek, thumb brushing over my lower lip. The kitchen light catches the gold flecks in his irises. He swallows hard, then leans down until his breath warms my skin. My heartbeat stutters as his mouth finds mine again. His fingers trail fire down my arms, settling at my hips with a grip that makes my knees weak. He presses against me and I take a stumbling step back, the counter edge digging into my back. Landon pulls me against him, his tongue traces the seam of my lips, and I taste mint and coffee. A sound escapes me—half gasp, half plea—as my hands find his shoulders.
Suddenly I’m weightless, lifted against him, my thighs instinctively wrapping around his waist. The kitchen counter is cold beneath me as he sets me down, a jar of utensils toppling with a soft clatter. His palms slide up my sides, callused fingertips catching on the cotton of my shirt.
I break the kiss with a gasp that echoes in the quiet kitchen. My lungs can’t seem to fill. The room spins slightly, like I’ve stood up too fast. Landon’s pupils have swallowed the green of his irises, and a muscle in his jaw twitches. My fingers find the edge of the counter, knuckles whitening as they grip the smooth granite.
The refrigerator hums in the background. A drop of sweat traces down my spine despite the chill in the air. A shiver races through me, fear and exhilaration coursing together. Landon’s hands press flat against my waist, grounding me, but it’s the heat in his gaze that sends fire pooling between my thighs. I can barely think straight, my body humming with need as he leans closer, his lips barely brushing mine again, teasing, before they slide down my neck.
“Is this really what you want?” The words vibrate against my throat where his mouth hovers, each syllable burning into my skin.
My fingers dig into his shoulders as electricity shoots through every nerve ending. “God, yes,” I gasp, the confession torn from somewhere primal and desperate inside me, my hips pressing forward of their own accord.
He groans, a sound that vibrates through his chest against mine. His fingers find the hem of my sweater, trembling slightly against my skin. I lift my arms in silent permission, feeling goosebumps rise as the fabric slides over my ribs, my shoulders, my wrists. The air hits my exposed skin, and I resist the urge to cross my arms. His breath catches audibly. His gaze drops, lingers, then rises to meet mine again, pupils so dilated his eyes appear almost black.
“Fuck,” he whispers, the word hanging between us like a prayer.
My fingers tremble against the cool plastic buttons of his flannel, missing the first hole twice before Landon makes a sound low in his throat. He grabs the shirt by the collar, yanking it upward in a single motion. The fabric hits the floor. Under my palm, his heartbeat hammers like something wild caught beneath his skin. I trace the ridge where his chest muscles meet, goosebumps rising in the wake of my touch. Dark hair, coarse beneath my fingertips, narrows into a thin line disappearing beneath his belt buckle.
My fingers continue exploring the terrain of his body, tracing the hard lines of muscle that ripple beneath my touch. Each shift of his chest sends heat coursing through me, igniting a fire that leaves no room for hesitation.
"Marcy," he breathes against my collarbone, the syllables vibrating through my skin like a tuning fork. My name in his mouth draws me forward until our chests press flush together. The kitchen air thickens with the scent of his skin—salt and cedar—as I catch his bottom lip between mine. His fingers trace my ribs, each one a piano key playing notes that travel straightto my core before gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. When they slide up my bare back, his calluses catch on my skin like tiny sparks.
"Landon," I whisper, my voice breaking on his name as his teeth graze the hollow of my throat. My fingers twist into his hair, tugging him closer.
His breath hitches. The careful restraint in his eyes shatters. His hands find the hem of my skirt, bunching the fabric in his fists until cool air hits my thighs. His gaze drops, darkens. The muscle in his jaw twitches once, twice.
"Christ," he breathes, the word half-prayer, half-curse. The pad of his thumb traces the edge of lace, and a breath rushes from me.
My hips rise involuntarily. A whimper escapes me as his fingertips brush where I'm aching, the thin fabric between us suddenly unbearable.
His lips brush my earlobe, his voice rough. "Tell me what you need."
"You," I gasp, the word barely audible over the thundering pulse in my ears. My fingers dig into his shoulders hard enough to leave half-moons in his skin.
His teeth graze the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder, sending lightning down my spine. "Show me where," he whispers, his breath hot against my collarbone.
I capture his wrist, guiding his palm up my inner thigh. The counter edge digs into my lower back as I arch toward him.
His eyes lock with mine, pupils blown wide. The corner of his mouth lifts in that way that makes my stomach flip. "Let me see all of you."
My fingers fumble with the clasp of my bra, trembling. The straps slide down my arms, cool air pebbling my skin. Landon's breath catches, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard.
