Page 63 of Making It Burn
"So," Beau said, his voice rough."What now?"
I looked at his kiss-swollen lips, at the way his pupils were blown wide, at the question in his eyes that wasn't really about what we'd do next.It was about everything.About whether I was really ready to stop running, to take the risk, to let myself have this.
"Now?"I said, my hand sliding down to lace with his."Now we get the fuck out of here."
His smile was blinding."Your room or mine?"
"I don't care.Closest one."
"Mine's closer."
"Then yours."
We barely made it out of the club.
The cab ride back felt like it took seventeen years.We sat on opposite sides of the back seat, not touching, both vibrating with tension.Every time the cab hit a pothole, our knees would bump, and I'd feel that contact like an electric shock.
"Mason," he said, his voice low.
"Yeah?"
"If we do this—"
"We're doing this."
"But if we—"
I reached across the seat and grabbed his hand, lacing our fingers together."No more ifs.No more what-ifs or maybes or complications.Just us.Tonight.Okay?"
Beau squeezed my hand."Okay."
The hotel lobby was a blur.The elevator ride to the seventh floor was torture.And when we finally reached our rooms, Beau's hands were shaking so badly he dropped his keycard twice.
I took it from him, swiped it, and pushed open the door.
"After you," I said.
Beau stepped inside, and I followed, the door clicking shut behind us.
We stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, the air between us crackling with possibility.
"So," Beau said."What happens now?"
I closed the distance between us and kissed him—hard and desperate and full of every ounce of want I'd been holding back.
"Now," I said against his mouth, "we stop talking."
ChapterTwelve
Beau
Mason’s mouth was on mine before the door fully closed, his hands threading through my hair, pulling me closer with a desperation that matched my own.I backed him against the wall, my body pressing into his, and he made a sound—low and needy—that went straight through me.
“Fuck,” I breathed against his lips.“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this?”
“Tell me.”His hands were already working at the buttons of my jeans, his fingers fumbling.
“Since the conference room.That first day.”I kissed along his jaw, down his neck, tasting salt and cologne.“You walked in with that smug expression and your perfectly pressed suit, and all I could think about was messing you up.”
