Page 37 of My Lucky Star
Chapter 14
Aria
IBLINKED AT CEM, TRYINGto process his words.
“You mean, it’s not good for the Instagram photo?” I had to ask. If there was a way to misunderstand him, I probably would.
Cem’s eyes held mine for a long time, his heavy breath on my face making me dizzy. “I don’t care about Instagram. I just want to kiss you, and I know I shouldn’t. We can’t.”
My mouth went dry, and I forced myself to close it. “Okay.”
Cem lowered his hands to my waist and his forehead against mine. He trapped me between his muscled torso and the gnarled wood of the tree, my hands flattened against his chest. His hot breath made my lips tingle. I’d never wanted to kiss anyone so badly.
I’d also never been so certain that I shouldn’t. He was famous and gorgeous and lived on the other side of the world. Even if he was attracted to me, we didn’t have a future. We had an unwritten business agreement and fooling around would risk everyone involved. My brain knew this. Even my body knew this, but it didn’t obey. I couldn’t take my hands off his hard chest or make any move to save myself.
Cem’s hand slid lower on my waist and my back arched. “You probably shouldn’t touch me like that.” I couldn’t hide the huskiness of my voice, or the way my breath seized. His eyes glazed over and darkened, eyelids dipping as he cast a hungry look at my lips.
I’d seen this move on TV, literally. I’d seen Cem doing this and even then, he’d held me captive. I’d considered it a bit exaggerated, played up for the cameras, slowed down for the sake of milking that moment right before the ad break. I’d imagined myself on the receiving end, of course, but I thought I might find it funny. I wouldn’t succumb to his charm. I’d laugh.
Now, not so much. His brown eyes had captured every molecule in my body, including brain cells. I couldn’t think, let alone laugh.
I watched my hands climb his chest like alien creatures, like they belonged to someone else, someone wild and hungry. Acting on their own, my fingers travelled up and dove into his curls. Thick. Rough. How could hair feel so satisfying?
He felt nothing like I’d thought he would when watching him on TV. Close up, I saw the faint scars of teenage acne on his cheeks and spotted two grey hairs in his beard.
I looked for further flaws. Maybe, if my brain got the message that he was only human, I could stop reacting like this and remove myself from this situation.
His lips parted and he leaned closer. Some deep, primal part of my brain argued with itself. If you have a chance to kiss a movie star, take it. Take it for all the insignificant women everywhere. Or don’t. Show them they aren’t gods. Show them—
The moment our lips touched, my reasoning evaporated. There was only his hot, unyielding mouth on mine. The back of my head made contact with the tree, sending a shock wave all the way to my toes. This was not a gentle, exploring kiss. This was savage.
I felt him testing me, like a wild beast let loose from its cage, searching for boundaries. Where were they? Did I have any? My body responded with fervor. My fists clawed for handfuls of his T-shirt and every zone ever earmarked for pleasure lit up, demanding more. His tongue met mine as if challenged to a duel. His hands roamed up and down my body, grazing my breasts as he shifted even closer, pushing his hardness against my swelling softness.
A gasp fought its way out of my throat. Cem reacted by diving for my neck, sucking so hard I both feared and hoped he would leave a mark. Nothing like this would ever happen to me again. I needed evidence.
This felt nothing like the kisses I’d seen on his TV show. It probably wouldn’t have made it past the censorship, even if we were filmed as silhouettes, fifty feet away.
I wondered if anyone could see us from the house, or anywhere else, if he were to take me against this tree trunk. Of course he couldn’t. None of this could happen. He’d told me it couldn’t happen. Maybe that’s what fueled the fire in me. I couldn’t back down. I felt reckless, hot, charged. His thumb brushed over my nipple, and I moaned, letting my hands trace down his chest, feeling the waistband of his slacks under the T-shirt hem.
As I slid my hand under the shirt, Cem pulled away, panting, his eyebrows knitted. “God, Aria. You can’t do this to me.”
I blinked, trying to focus my gaze on him and the weird expression on his face. “Do what?”
He threw out his arms in a dramatic gesture. “This! You can’t... let me. I told you we can’t. It’s too risky.”
