Right up until he pulled back.
Her pulse throbbed in her temples, and throat, and beat wildly against her ribcage. It was an effort to open her eyes; catching her breath wasn’t possible.
She saw the guilt flash across his face. Saw him gather a breath to speak.
“Why’d you stop?”
She watched hesitation war with want on his face, open, and raw, and the most unguarded she’d ever seen him. Doubt, and worry, and hunger – the kind of hunger you wouldn’t think to see in a self-professed sex fiend. He’d gotten up to some wild shit, the particulars of which she didn’t ever want to know, but it hadn’t satisfied him, she saw now. He was a boy with two appetites, and only one had been served.
“Is it too much?”
Her insides were already liquid, and they rippled and shivered in response to his earnest question, hushed and almost frightened. He didn’t want to scare her; didn’t want to push her too hard.
Any ideas she’d held about going slow promptly evaporated.
“No, you dummy,” she said, and pulled him back in.
He breathed a low, ardent groan against her mouth, and his hands tightened in her hair as he kissed her again. She started it, but he took over, that same relentless slide of lips and tongue, totally overwhelming.
She lost time, in the heated middle of that kiss. Her neck grew weak and she let her head fall back; let him hold her, and ease her back against the arm of the couch. Felt the cushions dip beneath his weight; felt the heat and strength of him caging her in, and his mouth was as worshipful as it was aggressive.
Her whole body throbbed like a pressed-on bruise, alive and thrumming andready; his hunger was contagious. She gripped the front of his shirt and tried to pull him closer; let her thighs fall open, and he settled between them. He was already half-hard; she could feel him stirring against her belly, plumping behind his fly.
His tongue stroked behind her teeth, and his hips hitched forward, an involuntary roll that pressed his hardening cock more firmly against her; his breath hitched, a sharp little inhale through his nose.
It was – so much, so fast.
It hit her suddenly, a little bolt of apprehension.
He felt it, too, because he drew back, braced above her, panting, flushed, his hair tousled – and, oh, when had she threaded her fingers through it? When had she slipped down to lie flat? His hand braced on the couch arm overhead.
He angled his hips back, away from her, so they no longer touched below the waist – save where her thighs bracketed his lean hips. They were halfway to dry-humping, and his eyes blazed, the blue shrunk down to a thin ring around his blown pupils.
Leah felt swoony, shocked at her own ardor.
She wet lips that were swollen beneath the stroke of her tongue; watched his gaze track the movement. “Maybe…”
“Yeah.” He sat back, and swung his legs around so he sat flat-footed, upright. No longer touching her anywhere.
Leah pushed up more slowly, and mirrored his pose, elbows on knees, feet braced apart. It wasn’t exactly ladylike on her part, but then, neither was what had just happened between them. So.
“That was…” she started.
“Too much?”
“I was going to sayamazing.” She glanced over, and watched his head turn; watched his brows go up in quiet, beautiful surprise. She dredged up a smirk. “Were you aware you were that fantastic of a kisser?”
After a second, he smirked back. “Well. Maybe.”
She chuckled, and it eased the unnecessary tension in her chest. “Damn.” She knocked her shoulder into his. “Kudos.”
He chuckled, too – and then full-on laughed, face creasing with it, eyes scrunching up. “Kudos?”
“Take the compliment. Trust me.”
He laughed again, then it died away, slowly, his gaze still fixed on her. “I don’t…”
“You don’t what?”
