Page 87 of Lighting the Lamp
“You weren’t supposed to react like that.”
“You weren’t supposed to look like you liked it.”
“I have to go.” She swallows, her cheeks a delicious shade of pink.
“Then go.”
But she doesn’t move. She stands frozen, lips parted, pulse fluttering at her throat. I reach for her slowly, my hand brushing her waist, and that’s all it takes.
She surges first, grabbing the front of my shirt and pulling me in. Then her mouth crashes into mine like we’re already halfway to breaking.
It’s not soft.
It’s not slow.
It’s pure need.
Every second we’ve spent pretending is buried in that kiss. Every time I caught her looking at me and had to look away. Every second I wanted to touch her and didn’t. Every almost-touch. Every night I’ve lain awake wondering how her mouth would taste when it wasn’t fighting me.
She gasps into my mouth as her back hits the wall with a soft thud. Fuck, that sound is like gasoline being thrown on a fire I’ve tried so hard not to light. Her hand dives into my hair, tugging hard, drunk on everything we’ve never let ourselves have.
“I’ve wanted this,” I breathe against her jaw, mouth trailing heat down the column of her neck, where her pulse stutters wildly against my lips. “Since that night you took care of me and saw me at my worst but didn’t turn away.”
Her head tilts back, lips parted, eyes blown wide. “Never.”
My hands find her waist, her hips, the hem of her shirt, and I pause. Not because I want to stop, but because this can’t be just sex. Not with her… with us. If I touch her, it changes everything.
Alise leans into me like she’s praying for this and whispers my name like it’s a promise and a plea wrapped into one. “Beau…”
That’s all it takes for the last bit of my restraint to crumble. I lift her, and she wraps her legs around me like she’s always fit there. We make it to the couch in a tangle of limbs and heat, my body already strung tight with want. Her breath hitches when I press her down, her eyes searching mine like she needs reassurance I’m still here.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” I whisper, lips brushing her collarbone.
“I don’t,” she says, voice shaking. “I don’t want you to stop.”
I kiss her like she’s already mine because I can’t keep pretending she’s not, and then…
“Hey, Uncle Beau, someone left the door cracked. Uncle Coop and Uncle Cole are on their way down. What do you want?—”
Not fucking again.Darius comes strolling into the living room, eyes wide in horror. We freeze, her hand splayed across my chest. My mouth hovers just above hers. We’re both breathing like we’ve run a marathon and fallen off a cliff at the same time.
“Jesus Christ.” Darius stumbles back with a strangled noise. “I saw nothing!”
Alise scrambles upright, tugging her shirt down, hair wild and cheeks flaming. She looks like chaos incarnate, and she’s never looked more beautiful.
“You left the door unlocked?” she hisses.
“I was distracted!”
“Clearly!” Darius calls from down the hall. “I’m texting them that you’re unavailable due to… mysterious reasons. You’ve got five minutes. Max.”
“Darius, wait!” Alise bolts for the hallway; one of her hands braces against the wall as if her knees are made of Jell-O. “Don’t text them.”
He pops his head back around the corner, eyebrows arched, already smug.
She scurries toward her bag in the kitchen, digs through it, and pulls out a crumpled ten and a chocolate bar. “I will Venmo you fifty dollars and give you my last peanut butter sea salt caramel.”
“The good one?”
