Page 71 of Cross the Line
She leans against it willingly, like she’s grateful for the reprieve from dancing and the crush of bodies. Her posture may be relaxed, but her gaze is expectant and hopeful.
‘So?’ she prompts, squeezing my hand. ‘What’s the news?’
I take a breath to centre myself. Am I really about to say this? ‘I just got off the phone with Howard. He thinks I have a shot of going to Mascort next year.’
There’s a beat of silence as Willow processes the information. Her eyes widen when it registers, and she claps a hand to her mouth to cover a quiet scream before dropping it to my chest instead. ‘Dev, oh my god! That’s amazing!’
I bring my hand up to cover hers, to keep it pressed to my wildly beating heart. ‘Nothing’s for sure.’ I try to temper her reaction as well as my own, but I can’t stop the grin that splits my face. ‘I think it looks good for me, though.’
‘I’m so happy for you.’ She slips her fingers from mine and throws her arms around my neck. ‘You’re going to get what you want. I know it.’
Her hold on me forces me down to her level, so I wrap my own arms around her narrow waist and tug her to me. Willow’s embrace is fierce, as if she’s pouring every ounce of love and strength and belief she possesses into me, like she knows I’ll need it for the journey I’m about to go on. And I do. I need it more than anything. Because as excited as I am at the possibility that I’ll soon have the race seat I’ve always wanted, the challenge of getting there is still daunting.
Willow knows that, yet she already thinks I’m more than capable of getting it.
Her grip on me loosens a little, and we shift so that we’re eye to eye. Like always, there’s an undercurrent of energy between us, but it crackles now, threatening to ignite into something bigger. Brighter. An inferno that can no longer be ignored.
‘This is familiar,’ she whispers.
It is. We’ve found ourselves in yet another club hallway, another place I can add to our list of unfortunate spots for unplanned confessions, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.
‘Don’t tell me your brother’s going to burst out of the bathroom,’ I tease.
Her gaze drops to my mouth, and her fingers curl around the back of my neck, making her intentions perfectly clear. ‘I don’t want to think about him right now.’
‘Neither do I.’
This time when we lean toward one another, there are no interruptions.
Her warm, soft mouth meets mine, and everything else in the world falls away. All the bullshit. All the drama. All the worry. It’s gone, and all I know is her. My sunshine. My moon guiding me in the darkness. My Willow.
I hold her tight as I deepen the kiss, coaxing entry past her lips until our tongues are brushing. There’s nothing tentative about it, no hesitation from her like there was earlier. That split second of waiting for her to kiss me back took years off my life, but this has returned them all to me. It’s given me a whole new existence.
A low moan escapes the back of my throat when she rakes her nails against my scalp. My hands find the generous curve of her ass in return and haul her closer, my knee slipping between her thighs and hiking the already high hem of her dress even higher. The gasp she lets out tells me she can feel every inch of me straining behind my zipper, but she stays where she is.
‘Dev,’ she pants between kisses, fingers still tangled in my hair. ‘What are we doing?’
‘Celebrating,’ I mumble against her mouth. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’
Her laugh is breathy and sweet. I inhale it like the purest oxygen before diving in for another taste of her.
She lets me take it, body moulded to mine, hips grinding against me, but she quickly backs off. And good thing she does, because after months without sex, there’s a strong chance I’d come right here, right now, with the way she moves against me. Crazy thing is, I’d probably still thank her for it.
‘We need to talk about this,’ she gasps.
I flick my tongue across her lower lip, needing more. ‘I know.’
‘We should do that now.’
‘We should.’ I kiss her again.
‘You have to stop kissing me.’
‘I don’t want to.’
She exhales in relief, sinking further into me. ‘Good. Neither do I.’
The way our lips meet is nothing short of reckless this time. It’s like lightning during a summer storm – hot and bright, threatening to burn us down. This is not the appropriate venue to let this carry on, but I don’t want to stop.
