Page 44 of Adrift

“Why do you want me to forget about it?” He blinks as if he’s just asked me how the weather was outside.

I sputter around a laugh and a cry at the same time. “Darian, what the hell? You have me so mixed up and inside my head that I no longer know if I’m even sane anymore.” I laugh incredulously as my voice rises. “Why do I want you to forget about me asking you to kiss me? Well, for starters, you don’t want to! You might say you feel unhinged around me or that you can’t avoid me even when you try to, but you can’t face me, either! You can’t face whatever it is that I make you feel, so what’s the point? Why disorient me like this? What do you get out of it?”

He pushes off from his perch on the desk as alarm bells blare inside my ears. Oh boy. I’ve either pissed him off or I’m about to get all my answers. He steps forward as my pulse quickens. I’m positive if a nurse were to catalog my heart rate, it’d be well over nine thousand beats a minute, give or take a few. In fact, my pulse is so high that I’m at risk of rocketing into the sky.

With his eyes locked on me, he erases the space between us in just a couple of long strides. I do my best to stay rooted to my spot, but I can’t guarantee my feet haven’t ripped up the carpeting below me. He lowers his head, his lips only a few inches above mine. “Were you going to let him kiss you, Rani?”

I mumble a response in Gaelic . . . or maybe it’s Portuguese? I don’t know either of those languages, so who knows what I’ve just said.

Trying again, I croak, “What?”

“Were you going to let Ginger Boy kiss you?”

I swallow, pretending that my legs aren’t mercilessly clenching, trying to squelch the need forming in between them with the awareness of his closeness. “He did say he was a good kisser.”

Darian’s nostrils flare and his eyes flash with silent warning before he leans in even closer. Goosebumps erupt across my skin as he whispers against my ear, “I’m at the edge of my restraint, Rani. If you don’t want to see me lose it, then I suggest you walk away, right the fuck now.”

Oh gosh.

Oh man, oh man.

This is not good. This is very, very bad.

I move my face only an inch but it’s enough to feel the brush of his delicious scruff across my cheek. It sends a shiver down my spine and I hold back a whimper. The air stands still between us. “And what if I want to see what the king looks like when he falls?”

Before I even finish thinking about what I’ve done, yet again, his lips are on mine with a soft growl. Both of his hands stroll up my bare shoulders, finding their way to the side of my face. He cups my cheeks as his tongue sweeps over my lips, asking–no, demanding–entrance into my mouth.

At first, I’m so bewildered by his scent and the feel of his lips on my mouth that I barely respond. But the more he coaxes me out of my stupor–his tongue teasing against my mouth–the more I feel myself give in.

My eyes finally close as my hands slide up his torso, finding purchase on his chest, and I open my mouth, letting him in. His tongue finds mine as it dances and caresses against it while a pool of want collects shamelessly inside my panties. A low, intense need awakens inside my belly as his arm circles my waist and he pulls me closer. The need only escalates when I feel the heaviness of his desire inside his pants rub against my core.

His tongue swirls inside my mouth as he tilts my head with his other hand, pressing down to find more, to suspend me between a state of consciousness and oblivion. A state I never want to come out of. A state I’m perfectly content finding my new existence inside.

The taste of his mouth, the way he sucks on my tongue, and his hand now sliding into my hair, makes me breathless. But if this is what breathlessness feels like, then I’d rather not breathe again.

There’s nothing sweet and gentle about this kiss; it’s rough and demanding. It orders me to comply as his tongue wars with mine. He pulls my waist in further, plastering my chest against his, and I revel in how he maneuvers my body around, as if I’m pint-sized in his arms. I arch against his chest, rising up on my toes as my arms circle his neck, letting out the smallest of moans.

And just like that, he pulls away from me, making me whimper against the cold air that glides over my swollen lips. I’m panting, as my hands beg to pull him back, as my lips burn for another taste of him. No! my body and mind cry out. This can’t be all I was going to get.

I sway against him, loosely hanging on to his neck as he stares at my glistening lips. His generally impassive face never gives anything away, but I swear a smug smile pulls at his lips. “Still want me to forget about that kiss?”

“I . . . I think I need a refresher, just to be sure.”

His face lights up like I’ve never seen before, his beautiful teeth gleaming against his tanned skin and pillowy lips. He’s breathing almost as hard as I am, though I feel like he has his senses still about him. I, on the other hand, feel senseless.

Helpless.

Endless.

Basically a lot of ‘less’ while feeling a whole lot more.

If that kiss was his way of clarifying himself and setting the record straight, then I’m going to award him with an A-plus. A job very well done, indeed! As of this moment, there’s no confusion in my mind as to what just happened, though it still feels surreal. But, I suppose this moment paves the way for the million other questions that will race through my brain once I step out the door, starting with, what happens now?

Darian’s forehead meets mine while he studies my face. His hands rest around the base of my neck and shoulders as his thumb slowly circles my skin. His lips glide against my forehead softly as we gather ourselves, catching our breaths. My nipples feel tight inside my dress and the dampness between my legs reminds me that I’ll need to change my underwear tonight.

“Rani–” he starts, right as the baby monitor atop his desk signals a waking baby’s cry.

Darian’s smile vanishes and it’s as if he’s been awakened from a spell. As if the snap of a hypnotist has brought him back to reality. His eyes lock with mine, slightly widened, as the entire moment transforms into one washed with guilt and doubt. As if what we just shared was nothing more than a blip in the normalcy of our relationship.

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