Page 172 of Playing the Pucking Game
“Parker,” I whisper, both terrified to do something to stop her, but also needing to give her the option.
Her lips part, and I swear the quietest, softest, “please,” I’ve ever heard in my life slips past them.
Fuck it.
In a heartbeat, my lips are on hers and my grip on her body has tightened again, pinning her up against mine.
I kiss her sweetly, once, twice, testing to make sure she’s really into this before I begin to deepen it.
The second she feels my tongue sneak out and trace her bottom lip, she groans.
Her mouth opens, giving me the access I crave, and that’s it. I’m done for.
One hand lifts to cup the back of her head, my fingers twisting in her hair as the other drops to her ass. Her ass that’s been taunting me in these fucking leggings every day for weeks now.
Her own arms tighten around my neck, and she stretches up on her toes to meet my height.
Our tongues slide against each other, and I swear it’s the best thing I’ve felt in years.
Kissing has never really been my thing. A means to an end.
Unless it’s Parker.
But then, everything is different with Parker.
I lose myself in her taste, sweet but slightly salty from her tears, the soft yet desperate way she kisses, the soothing yet slightly painful way her fingers twist in the hair at the nape of my neck.
I swear the fire that rages through my body is far hotter than the one that ripped through this building not so long ago.
Everything surrounding us falls away; the only thing that is important is her.
I don’t know how long it goes on for. It could be just a few minutes, or we could be standing there an hour. Time no longer exists.
But I do know that when she pulls back, it’s nowhere near long enough.
“I’m sorry, I?—”
“Never apologize for that,” I rasp, my voice thick with desire.
Parker shakes her head. “That wasn’t…”
Predicting what she’s trying to say, I make the decision for her.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say, taking a step back and giving her little choice but to come with me.
She hesitates, but only for a second.
“My things,” she whispers.
“I’ll sort it,” I promise.
“But tonight is my last chance to get in here.”
“I’ll sort it,” I repeat.
There’s no way on Earth I’m letting this place be cleared out before she has a chance to go through it and see what she can save.
“Linc,” she warns.
