Page 30 of Midnight Mate
Bayne stood, tugging gently on their joined hands. “Come here.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to kiss you and reaching across the table is uncomfortable.”
“You want to kiss me, but I have to come to you?”
Bayne was out of his chair in seconds, pulling Clint to his feet. They stood close enough to share breath. Then Clint smelled something incredible—soap from the morning shower, the faint musk of wolf underneath, and something wild Clint never wanted tamed.
“Still pissed at me?” Bayne’s free hand came up, fingers threading through Clint’s hair.
“Yes.” But it came out more breathless than unconvincing.
“Good. I deserve it.” Bayne’s mouth brushed against his jaw. “But I’m going to kiss you anyway.”
“Arrogant.”
“Definitely.” Another almost-kiss, this time just below his ear. “Tell me to stop.”
Clint’s hands found Bayne’s chest instead, fingers curling into his shirt. “Stop talking.”
Bayne’s mouth claimed his with intent, tongue sliding past his lips with a confidence that made Clint’s knees weak. The hand in his hair tightened, angling his head for better access, while the other arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him flush against that solid frame.
Heat flared through Clint’s body, every nerve greedy for more. His hands fisted in the thick fabric of Bayne’s shirt. Soft lips pressed to his, not just once, but over and over, mouth moving in lush pursuit. At first, slow, savoring Clint, then hungrier.
“Now are you still pissed at me?” Bayne murmured, breath warm against his lips.
“Starting to reconsider my position.” Clint’s fingers found skin where Bayne’s shirt had ridden up, tracing the muscle there. “Multiple positions, actually.”
Bayne made a sound that was pure wolf—hungry and approving. His mouth moved to Clint’s throat, teeth scraping against sensitive skin before his tongue soothed the sting. “Want to take you apart. Want to learn every sound you make.”
“Are you going to tell me about any other life-altering supernatural bonds first?”
A quiet laugh rumbled out Bayne, a sound that tugged at something low and needy inside Clint. “Just the one.”
Moving required coordination neither of them really had. They kept stopping to kiss against walls, Bayne’s hands sliding under Clint’s shirt, mapping skin with calloused fingers that left trails of fire. By the time they made it upstairs, Clint’s shirt was gone and his scrub pants hung low on his hips.
Bayne pressed him against another wall, mouth dropping to Clint’s neck, biting, sucking, making him whimper.
“You make such beautiful noises,” Bayne said, voice jagged, already breathless. “Keep going.”
Lips dragged down Clint’s jaw, nipping at his throat. He gasped and clawed at Bayne’s torso.
They made it to the bedroom, though Clint couldn’t say how. One minute they were making out in the hallway, the next, clothes hit the floor. Bayne’s skin was golden under the warm lights, muscles flexing as he moved. Clint couldn’t stop touching him. The ridge of Bayne’s shoulder. His biceps. The small freckle just beneath his collarbone.
Every inch was distraction and invitation, and he needed more.
He leaned in, grazing his teeth over Bayne’s ear, then down to his throat, tasting him right back. Bayne arched against him. Clint felt the tremor in the man’s body, the way Bayne pulsed under his tongue.
“Damn, Clint,” he groaned, “if you keep that up, I’m not gonna last.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to last,” he teased
Growling, Bayne’s hands slid lower, fingers gripping Clint’s ass. “You’re trouble.”
“You love it.”
Bayne smiled wickedly, gaze hungry. “Damn right I do.”
