Page 78 of Cross the Line
I nod, pressing my fingers closer to his. ‘You can absolutely take me on a date. In fact, I insist on it.’
At that, he blows out a relieved breath. ‘Thank fucking god. Don’t know what I would have done if you’d said no.’ He grabs my hand, then lifts it to his lips and places a few rapid kisses to my knuckles. ‘That’s where we’ll start. I promise, this is going to be the best date of your life.’
‘It better be,’ I say, laughing with a lightness that only he brings out in me. ‘Good luck trying to impress me.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ve already googledcool date ideas in San Diegofor inspiration.’ He tugs me to my feet, backing toward the door. ‘Next time we see each other, I’ll have the magnum opus of dates planned.’
My stomach drops at thenext time. ‘You’re leaving?’
He comes to a stop in the small entryway, his expression softening as he squeezes my hand. ‘It’s been a long day,’ he says gently. ‘I’m sure you’re exhausted.’
‘I’m not that tired.’ My reply is quick, no hesitation. I lace my fingers with his, gazing up at him as I steel myself to ask for what I want. There’s no sense in backing down now. ‘Don’t go, Dev.’
His breaths are slow and measured as he quietly watches me. ‘You sure?’ he finally asks, his voice a little gravelly.
‘Absolutely.’
‘To be clear: are you asking me to sleep over?’
I squeeze his hand a little tighter. ‘I am.’
‘All right,’ he agrees, glancing away for a second, then turning back and studying my face. ‘Yeah. Maybe we could watch another movie. How aboutDilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge? It’s a classic.’
‘You and your SRK obsession.’ I playfully roll my eyes but sober again quickly. ‘But no. I don’t want to watch a movie.’
Judging by the way the humour in his dark eyes is replaced with heat, he’s starting to catch my drift. ‘Would you rather eat snacks and gossip about our crushes?’ he offers, taking a step closer.
‘I’m thinking something a little less wholesome.’
He gives a soft but dramatic gasp. ‘Don’t tell me you want to play Spin the Bottle.’
‘Maybe more Seven Minutes in Heaven,’ I suggest. ‘Preferably longer than seven minutes, though.’
He stills, all amusement gone now. ‘Careful, Willow,’ he warns.
He can caution me all he wants. I know how I want the night to go.
‘I’m done being careful.’ It’s time to shed this label of innocence that’s been shoved upon me. Being the baby sister, the fragile one, the girl left broken-hearted, doesn’t equate to being naive. I don’t want anyone, least of all him, thinking it’s true. ‘Do you understand what I mean?’
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. ‘I think I’m beginning to.’
To prove my point, I run my hands up his solid chest, over his pecs. Then I journey downward over his abs, slowing but not stopping when I reach the waistband of his jeans. I’m not a virgin. If my ex deserves credit for anything, it’s showing me the highs my body can reach.
But I have an inkling that Dev can get me higher than anyone else ever could.
When my fingers brush the button of his jeans, he seizes my wrists in his grasp. His expression is tense, and I’m briefly terrified I’ve done something wrong.
The worry disappears when he tugs me flush against him. He then drops his hands to my thighs and curls them around the backs, lifting me in one smooth motion. On instinct, I wrap my legs around his waist as he takes on my weight. It’s reminiscent of the encounter we had in his driver room, but no one’s going to interrupt us tonight. I won’t allow it.
We’re back across the room in no time. He lowers himself into the armchair in the corner and pulls me down to straddle his lap. My pyjama shorts might as well be non-existent they’re so thin, and he’s growing hard beneath me. There’s no doubt we want the same thing.
He stares up at me, hands resting where my thighs meet my hips, his chest heaving with every breath. His voice is reverential as he says, ‘You’re all I want. Are you really going to let me have you?’
I brush my lips across his and answer, ‘I’m already yours.’
Our kiss turns scorching with my admission. He slides both hands to my ass and squeezes, hauling me closer. I roll my hips against his in response, and he drops his head back, breaking the connection long enough for him to groan, ‘Fuck, Willow.’
His mouth finds mine again a moment later, consuming me. I grasp at the soft cotton of his Argonaut T-shirt as his teeth scrape my bottom lip. There’s nothing gentle about it, and the roughness has me arching against him even more.
