Page 45 of Pucked Up Plans
Only when the body next to me moves do I realize I fell asleep on the couch lying on top of Walsh.
“I should probably get going. It’s kinda late.”
His groggy voice makes me wonder if he wasn’t asleep too. Or is his from nonuse in the past however long I’ve been asleep? A glimpse at my watch reveals it’s a little after midnight. Wracking my brain, I have no clue what time we started the movie or how long I lasted before conking out.
“Probably best,” I agree, but make no action to move from my comfortable position. “How was the movie?”
“The first ten minutes were pretty good. Can I get back to you about the rest when I finish it?” His entire upper body shakes with his chuckle, my body along for the ride.
Sitting up, I brush the hair off my face, pulling it back up into a messy bun. “Or maybe it was boring enough to put us both to sleep.”
“We could go with that. Or,” he draws out, his arms stretching above his head, “the fact I was exhausted, and having you cuddled up next to me was too damn comfortable.” He continues, a smug grin on his face. “And sleep seemed like the better choice over doing all the things my mind wanted to do.”
“More than kissing?” I whisper, afraid to voice the question. But I need the answer.
“So much more, Tate. So. Much. More.” He slides his thumb along my jaw, the softest caress evoking so many emotions inside me. At the forefront, lust.
“Sleep was the smarter choice,” I concur. A cloud of anguish washes over his face, vanishing only when I add, “But I want all the other things too. Another time, another place?”
The reality is, “other things” won’t come to fruition. Not in the near future.
“Rain check for now, but I’m holding you to them. Tasting your lips doesn’t suffice.”
With his comment, he leans in, his lips slanting over mine. His thumb moves from my jaw, and with his entire hand, he cradles the back of my neck, tilting my head exactly where he wants it.
His lips are drier than earlier, so I drag my tongue over them to moisten them. He mimics my actions, then delves his tongue into my mouth. My lips have a mind of their own, opening up with abandon, welcoming the intrusion.
The top of my tongue becomes a target for him. He wastes no time licking every inch before moving to the underside, lavishing it with the same affection.
With little coherent thought left in my brain, I focus on how possessive he is. How much control he wields, but not dominantly. Or maybe it’s because I’m succumbing to his will so easily. Because Walsh can kiss. I may lack experience in the bedroom, but I’ve kissed more than my share of guys.
Correction,boys.Yet, I don’t think that makes a difference in this situation. Or maybe it does because he sure as heck knows what he’s doing.
The way his tongue explores every inch of my mouth.
The way he pulls it back, only to suck my bottom lip between his teeth.
The way he drags me on top of his lap without so much as breaking our connection.
I’m not consciously paying attention to what I’m doing and only hope I’m kissing him back. I must be because he hasn’t moved away or had any complaints.
Oh!
He wasn’t lying about wanting to do more. The evidence presses against the apex of my thighs.
Gaining my wits back, I unenthusiastically rip my mouth away. Because this kiss can’t lead to more. Not tonight. Not here.
Hopefully not never.
“We can’t,” I breathe out restlessly, feeling every ounce of the adrenaline coursing through me. I didn’t appreciate how much I missed this, nor the feeling of being connected to a member of the opposite sex. Especially one who wants me as badly as I want him.
“Not tonight.” So much eagerness in his tone and expression.
“Not tonight,” I confirm.
“But we can. Eventually?”
Laying my forehead against his, I meet his gaze. “It would be a sin if we didn’t.”
