Page 51 of Bad at Love
“I need a little help with the veil,” he says, his tone a little too innocent.
I narrow my eyes, staring through the mesh. “I don’t trust you.”
“Please,” he says.
“Oh, fine,” I say and reach up, unzipping it from the front of his jacket and then lifting it up off his head and tossing the hat to the grass.
“Thanks,” he says but he doesn’t get off me. He bites his lip and brings one of his hands to my face, fingers pressed against my cheekbone, his dark eyes searching mine. Thatsame intense gaze that he had earlier has come over him again, a look that makes me sink back into the grass, for my heart to start beating harder against my ribs.
“Remember,” he says, his voice hoarse, his thumb brushing down my cheek, along the side of my lips. I don’t even think I’m breathing. “When I said it was the perfect time to kiss you? Well, I lied. I think now is the perfect time.”
“Because I can’t run away?” I try to joke but my words come out all garbled. Oh my god, I’m losing my mind here.
He smiles softly but the carnal gaze in his eyes never leaves me. It strips me bare. “Second date, sweet girl.”
But…but…but…
There are so many things to protest. So many things to say to stop this from happening.
But I don’t want to say any of them.
I try and swallow, my chest feeling tight, like there’s a vice around my heart.
If he kisses me, I might actually die.
He closes his eyes and leans in and I’m suddenly so aware that we’re both in bee suits and he’s lying on top of me in the middle of the backyard.
And then I’m aware of nothing at all.
Nothing but his lips as they gently press against mine.
Soft, warm and firm all at once.
It’s so sudden and shocking despite his warning.
But then his lips part gently, opening up against my mouth and my eyes flutter closed as I give into him.
His tongue slides into my mouth, slow, almost painfully slow, this teasing drag along the edge of my tongue that makes my skin run hot and tight. A desperate urge rises up from inside me, the steel of his tongue ring cool and sleek.
Fuck.
This is happening.
And it’s still happening.
Like any new dance, it starts off tentative, wary, and then morphs, his mouth growing hungrier, our tongues sliding in and out with building urgency. Laz presses his hips into mine and I can feel how hard he is.
For me. All for me.
He lets out a low groan into my mouth and it rumbles through me, all the way to my toes, my thighs squeezing together to quell the throbbing. His hands are in my hair, on my jaw, holding my head down against the grass and my fingers are drifting over his shoulders, feeling his strength, as our kiss deepens and deepens and deepens.
It feels so good.
So.
Fucking.
Good.
