Page 87 of Ominous: Part 1
“Shh,” he says, his breath on my mouth, the scent of cotton candy sweet as I inhale. His eyes search mine and he leans in closer, just an inch, but it’s enough, his lips on my own, my heart beating so hard it aches in my chest.
“Shh,” he says again, even though I haven’t said another word. I think I’ve forgotten how to speak. “I’ll tell you everything, just… let me.”
I want to.I want to.He’s so fucking hot, and charming, and he’s so close I can’t breathe, but first I want to know. Ineedto know. “No. You tell menow.What happened with the cops, Eli? I’ve been waiting here for hours for you.Tell me now.”
He’s staring at me, his chest heaving, and mine reflects the movement. “Eden.” My name sounds like a plea on his lips. “Just shut up and let me fucking kiss you.”
Shut up.
His eyes spark. I know he said it on purpose. For some reason… he wants this.
Before I can back down, I lift my hand, and I…slap him.I’m shocked at my own actions, a small gasp leaving my lips, my palm tingling. But in some way, it felt easier than what we’re about to do. Things I’ve never done before.
He smiles at me, turning his head back my way as I drop my hand, his face flushed where I hit him. A second passes. A pause.
He’s asking for permission, in a very Eli way, and I hope he understands I can’t give it.I just want him to take it.
And a heartbeat later,he does.
His tongue flicks against the seam of my mouth, my lips part for him, and he’s kissing me so hard I can’t breathe. I’m frozen, my mind spinning, some distant part of my brain reminding me I need to kiss him back, I need to move, I just slapped him, shit,fuck,and… and…
His hand comes to my hip.
I jump, but I step forward all the same, and my palms are on his chest, and I’m standing on my tiptoes and finally kissing him back, and I feel clumsy and I’m not sure I’m doing this right, but I don’t stop, and he doesn’t stop me.
Not like an explosion. Not a bomb. No fireworks.
Instead, I’m waking up from a dreamless sleep, and reality is better than anything I could’ve fantasized about. I’ve watched people fucking on my phone screen for years. I learned how to orgasm when I was much younger. But this…this is all new to me.
My fingers dig into his shirt, and I feel the flex of hard muscle underneath as his other hand comes to my ass and squeezes, and I moan into his mouth, a light, breathless sound as I buck my hips.
He smiles but he doesn’t pull away, our teeth clashing, tongues circling one another, my face wet with my saliva, his. It’s messy, like we’re fighting for dominance, but I secretly want him to win. I push him, almost like I’m pushing him away. I’m not sure why I do it, it’s like my brain is short-circuiting, and my movements are nervous and erratic. His body jolts from surprise, and he concedes a step, toward the bookshelves.
There’s a pause in his mouth over mine, even as I keep kissing him, keep digging my nails into his shirt. Then he smiles, the shape on my lips.
“Careful, baby girl.”
It’s the only warning he gives before he shoves me forcefully against the wall with his hand gripping onto my hip. I move willingly, his body pressed up against mine, our height difference stupid, but it makes me feel safe, like I’m something he wants to protect even as he devours me. His fingers knead my ass, his other hand sliding up my hip, my waist, his palm pressing against my breast before he rests his hand over my throat, his fingers curling softly, and—
My phone vibrates in my pocket, causing me to jump and pull back, his teeth digging into my bottom lip hard enough to hurt, to sting, trying to keep me with him. But I knock my head against the wall, and he lets go as I run my tongue over my lip, tasting the faintest hint of iron, feeling how swollen my mouth is from our kiss.
I’m breathing hard, and he still has one hand on my ass, the other around my throat. When I lift my eyes to his, my phone continuing to vibrate in my pocket, I see he looks a little off balance, which surprises me. His eyes are glassy, his lips parted as he draws in ragged breaths, and when I sink down to the soles of my feet, he presses into me, like he needs me to hold him up.
I feel how hard he is against my stomach, and all rational thought leaves my head, but at the same time, my phone keeps ringing, and I blink, trying to focus.
I intend to grab my phone, but instead, I bring my fingers up to my mouth, my wrist grazing the back of his hand, still around my neck.
I can feel the lingering touch of him on me, how soft his lips were, the sweet taste of him still on my tongue.
He tightens his fingers on my throat, just enough to get my attention. “You should get that,” he says, recovering from his lust-filled haze. It’s like he snaps back into place, his eyes focused, the cocky smirk again on his swollen mouth as he drops his hands both from my throat and my ass, and steps back, letting me breathe.
I miss his heat instantly, but as he watches me, my eyes dropping to his sweats, seeing the outline of his erection, enough to make me crave him all over again, I reach with shaky fingers for my phone.
It’s Mom.
He must read the name on my screen, too, because he says, “You’re riding with me.”
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