Page 3 of Wilder at Heart
‘Montague.’
Now I do snigger. ‘Seriously? Of course that’s your name. Well, if I’m Belle, you’re definitely Romeo.’
He has the grace to look abashed. ‘That may have been my nickname at school.’
‘Something tells me it had nothing to do with your surname,’ I mutter.
‘You’re a feisty one, aren’t you? Belle and Romeo.’ He lowers his head to mine, and I tilt my chin up expectantly as he mutters against my lips. ‘A match made in heaven.’
I’m expecting him to start with a subtle brush of his mouth against mine. Smooth, like everything else he does.
But that’s not what I get.
Nope. Theo Montague curls one hand around my neck, his other hand sliding down my back, pulling me in against him.
Hard.
And as he does that, his mouth clamps down on mine. His lips press firmly. Demanding. I open so he can take more. He wastes no time, his tongue searching for mine. And there’s something so primal, so grown-up, about this kiss that I can’t help but respond to him. I drag my thumb along the gorgeous ridge of his jaw and grope wildly at the muscles of his shoulders, straining under his t-shirt as he holds me as close against him as he can.
This kiss is kind of how I imagine actual sex to be.
Heated.
Desperate.
Out of control.
I tilt my face and he bites lightly down on my tongue as I move, just enough to twist it between his teeth.
Holy crap.
This guy knows what he’s doing.
I haveneverbeen kissed like this.
As we devour each other with lips, teeth and tongues, Theo’s hand smooths over my bum and gives it a squeeze before dragging up the bare small of my back, up under my t-shirt, his fingers sliding between my bra clasp and my skin. And then those fingers drag back down withnails. He digs in just enough to feel seriously good. Seriously primal. I arch into him in what’s basically sheer bloody ecstasy, and as I do, his hardness against my lower stomach is unmistakable.
We continue like this for a few minutes. Tongues tangling. Lips gliding. Skin sliding. Nails scraping. Because let’s say I took my cue from him and burrowed under his t-shirt, letting rip on the gorgeous bare musculature of his back. This guy isripped. As I scratch him gently, he emits a low groan into my mouth and if I didn’t have better things to do with my hands right now I’d punch the air.
Theo comes up for air and I let my head drop back against the stone wall, catching my breath as I survey the sight in front of me in deepest appreciation: Theo Montague, hair mussed and mouth swollen and chest heaving and eyes glazed.
Yesss.
I did that.
I sneak a peek at his crotch.
I did that, too.
This Cambridge place is, like,seriouslybrilliant.
‘Fucking hell, Belle.’ His voice is low. Rough. He cups his hand around my waist and it turns into a pincer grip. He’s staring at me. ‘You little fucking beauty. You kiss like a wild cat.’
I don’t say anything, mainly because I’ve lost the power of speech. And because I had no idea I was capable of kissing like a wildanythinguntil he came along and showed me what to do. I stand there and survey him in a smug, lustful haze.
He releases my waist and takes my hand.
‘Come on. Let’s get out of here.’ He smirks. ‘I have an excellent room this year. I can have you naked in my bed in under two minutes.’
