I want to kiss Kayla. Badly. But the idea of kissing her, of touching her at all, also makes me a little nervous. And I’m never nervous when it comes to women.
Goddammit. Everything about this girl is unexpected.
“You’re so obsessed with us not being strangers,” she says, and her eyes shine. “That can’t be healthy.”
I probably shouldn’t kiss her. We have an inheritance to claim tomorrow. We have shit to follow through with. Kissing her is a bad idea. A very bad idea.
“No. Probably not.” I step closer so we’re only inches apart. “But I can’t seem to let it go.”
She doesn’t move away. She doesn’t break eye contact.
Yes. She’d definitely let me kiss her. I’m sure of it.
My heart pounds and it’s all I can do to keep my nonchalant demeanor in place.
“Is that what we are, Kayla?” I lower my voice with a crooked grin. “Strangers?”
She meets my crooked grin and raises me a tipped chin. Her eyes are steel and sure, not giving anything away, and I suddenly feel unsure.
I lean in.
She doesn’t react. But she also doesn’t back away.
Kissing her is a bad idea.
Her lips part, ever so slightly, a thin seam of wet flesh forming between the soft skin of her pretty lips, and all my reservations vanish.
9 Kayla
I jolt in surprise when Daren’s mouth meets mine. I was flirting—shamelessly flirting—with him, but only because I didn’t think he’d act on it.
Clearly, I underestimated his audacity.
I’m not even sure what possessed me to tease him in the first place. I’m never like this. I don’t flirt. I don’t lure. I’m quiet and careful, and usually shut off from all males unless they go out of their way for my attention. Not because I’m a snob, but because most of the time guys just want to get me naked and I don’t have the time—or the patience—to entertain random guys for the sake of getting them off.
So everything I’ve done tonight leading up to this moment with Daren is completely out of character for me. Yet here I am, with his lips pressed against mine in this little courtyard and all I can think about is how good his mouth feels up against me.
His hands skim up my arms and cradle my face, drawing a shiver out of me as his lips softly swipe over mine. My eyes flutter closed and I gasp, unsure.
Sensing my hesitation, he pulls back slightly. His lips set before my mouth, a featherlight touch as he loosens the cradle of his hands. The pad of one thumb brushes my jaw as he waits.
I know I should pull back and walk away. But the careful stroke of his thumb moving up my cheek and to my ear, the hot breath of his exhales warming the tender skin beneath my jaw…
It’s all so good, so fulfilling, sending pleasures of warmth through my body and awakening a hunger in the depths of my being. A hunger that only grows when he runs his thumb over my lower lip and gently pulls it down so my lips are partly opened.
“Tell me to stop and I will,” he whispers. His words drift between my lips and tickle my waiting tongue.
Fighting between my better judgment and the lust sprawling through my lower belly, I sink against him and whisper, “Don’t stop.”
Instantly, he crushes his lips against mine, more fully than before, and I eagerly kiss him back. He grips my jaw, not roughly but not gently either, as he runs his tongue down the seam of my lips and I open for him, softly moaning as his tongue slips inside my mouth and rolls over my own.
Our mouths meet in a hungry collision, kissing and pulling and licking at each other. My breaths come out in shallow pants as my body becomes alight with need. He tips my chin up, exposing the sensitive skin of my throat, and moves his mouth to my windpipe where he lightly suckles.
I exhale into the night, my eyes fluttering once again in the hazy glow of the twinkle lights above us, as I arch my back and push my chest into him. My nipples tighten with need, brushing against the hard muscles of his chest as his hot mouth moves against my throat, up to my jaw, and then to my ear.
Letting out a little whimper, I grab at his shoulders as he trails his hands down my spine and to my hips. Our kissing becomes rough and heavy, hot tongues gliding over each other and licking furiously at lips and teeth and skin as I roll my hips into his. I feel his hard erection against my belly and wetness pools between my legs.
He nips my bottom lip and I sink my nails into the back of his shirt with another quiet moan. Grabbing my hips, he yanks me against his body and I rub against his hardness feverishly, wanting him with an unfamiliar desperation. He groans and pulls back for air. My pupils widen at the sight of his swollen lips, wet from our kissing, and the heaviness in his eyes.
Seeing him want me just as badly as I want him has me licking my own swollen lips, and his eyes follow the slow movement of my tongue. Then suddenly, I’m no longer standing. He lifts me into his arms and presses my back against the painted wall behind us. Opening my thighs to wrap around his waist, I shiver again as the new closeness brings friction to my most needy area.
As the softness between my legs grows hot and wet, I let out a succession of whimpers, jerking my hips a little when he rubs against me just right, and my eyes roll back into my head.
Sliding my hands down to his pants, I rub my open palm over the bulge in his pants. He feels so long and thick, and so very hard. The aching tightness in my core melts with need as I rub against him more fervently.
Groaning, he grabs my ass and squeezes firmly. He grabs my chin and takes my mouth captive again. He runs his hand under my shirt and up my bare belly, taking my breast in his large palm and roving his thumb over my painfully tight nipple through my bra.
God, this feels good. Good in a way I’ve never experienced before. Good because I want it. I want Daren and his mouth. I want Daren and his hands. I want Daren and his…
Then reality hits me.
What am I doing? Making out with Daren Ackwood against the back wall of a bar? No. I’m not this person. I’m careful. Cautious. I don’t get swept away like a horny teenager and give in to my every whim—even if that whim is telling me that I like Daren’s fingers inching my bra cup down to reach my naked nipple. This is the opposite of what I do.
“Wait,” I say, panting as Daren’s soft lips brush against my throat. Again.
I instinctually tip my head back and groan. Why does this have to feel so good?
He pulls back slightly, just as out of breath as I am, and slowly slips his hand out of my bra. My nipple aches in protest, wanting to be plucked and prodded again, as my core continues to pulse and ache.
Clutching me against the wall in his strong arms, he searches my face with his deep brown eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Yeah… I’m good.” I swallow, tasting him on my tongue. “I’m really good. I just… I have to stop.”
I wait for him to argue like most guys would do. Or nuzzle my neck and say something sweet to try and get me to reconsider. But instead, he nods and gently sets me back on my feet.
“Yeah. Sorry,” he says. His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as he rubs a hand over his mouth. “I sort of got carried away there.”
I blink, surprised by his conceding response. “No, you’re fine. Sorry. It’s—it’s just…” I reach for the right words. “I… I just can’t…”
He waves me off with a small smile. “No, I get it. We’re good.”
“Are we?” I squint at him, still out of breath and quivering between my thighs. “Because we agreed to be handcuffed together tomorrow and I don’t want things between us to be weird.”
He raises a brow. “Weirder than being handcuffed while we track down a letter?”