Page 56 of This Life and All the Rest
“No,” she stresses. “Never. That ship has sailed. Get over yourself.”
I close the distance between us in two steps. She inhales sharply and her eyes flare, but she doesn’t move away. The longer I hold eye contact, the more her face changes.
Anger morphs to anguish, then to longing. The closeness is enough to drive me mad, and I know she feels it, too.
She pulls her lower lip between her teeth, and on instinct I reach out, and tug it free. The feeling of my skin on hers, even the smallest amount, sets my body on fire.
“You’re saying, if I kiss you right now,” I say, caressing her lower lip softly with my thumb, “you wouldn’t kiss me back?”
She shakes her head, the tiniest little jerk of movement. Not enough to shake off my thumb.
“No,” she whispers.
I drag my thumb from her lip to her jaw slowly, and her eyes flutter shut as I wrap my hand around her neck, settling my thumb on her pulse point. Her heart is beating so fast. Just like mine.
I lean closer and dip my head lower, so my lips are hovering just out of reach. Our breaths mingle, and I swear I can feel her body vibrating, a taut rubber band threatening to snap.
“Are you sure?” I whisper, and she shakes her head again.
“No,” she says, her voice no more than a hushed breath, and my restraint snaps.
We collide.
Lips and teeth and tongues.
The moment our mouths connect, I groan. Goosebumps erupt over my body. I bring my other hand to her neck, sliding my fingers into her hair and holding her to me.
Her whimper encourages me, our tongues tangling and massaging. Her breath is my breath. I can’t get close enough. I can’t touch enough of her.
Fuck, she feels so good. Sinfully good. Addictively good.
She sucks my bottom lip into her mouth and bites, making me groan again. I squeeze her neck, then grab her hair and tug her head back, so I can kiss the sensitive skin just below her jaw.
My dick is throbbing, and I know she can feel it with how we’re pressed together. There is no room for breathing between us, no room for thinking, and that’s exactly how I like it.
Her moans. The way she presses her lower body into me. The way she’s kissing me in such a frenzy.
It’s every fucking thing I’ve dreamt about for the last four years. I’ve missed her taste. I’ve missed the way she feels under my palms. Soft and warm and wholly mine.
I recognize this feeling.
It’s like a dormant part of me has been shaken awake. My craving insatiable. My need for her stronger than ever. I want my mouth and hands and tongue on every inch of her body. I want to keep her here, against me, forever.
The way she fists her hands in my t-shirt kicks up my heartbeat, until it’s beating so fast that it feels like it’s going to pound out of my chest. Then she brings her fingers to my hair and her nails scrape against my scalp. I groan in pleasure, but she growls, frustrated, and I smirk against her lips.
Maybe I shouldn’t get it cut.
“Fuck, Lennon,” I say against her, dragging my hands down her back and gripping her ass. Her hands go for the waist band of my sweats, and she shoves them inside, wrapping her fingers around my hard dick and squeezing.
“Fuck,” I grunt out, then walk her backward until her back hits the kitchen island.
I spin her around and drop to my knees, pulling her shorts down and rubbing her pussy with my fingers.
“Lennon, you’re so fucking wet. You’re so fucking wet for me.”
She moans, and I spring to my feet. I need her. It’s my only thought as I grab her hair, tug her back against my chest and shove my sweats down. I palm my cock with my other hand and swipe the head of my dick between her pussy lips. She releases the sweetest whimper.
“You want this?” I grind out, pulsing my tip at her opening. “If you don’t want me to fuck you right here, stop me now. Otherwise, I’m going to shove my cock into this wet fucking cunt and fuck you until your cum is dripping down your thighs.”
