My body came to life, acknowledging every part of me in contact with him. My heart thumped painfully against my chest, either from adrenaline or excitement—excitement that moments had passed, and he still hadn’t let me go.
Swallowing hard, I raised my head and looked up into his eyes, watching them darken. “Thank you.”
The arm across my legs slowly lowered them back to the ground, but the arm around my back, kept me close. Could he feel my heart beating against his chest? Or the speed at which my lungs were trying to expand?
Solid ground hit my feet, yet I still floated, my hands holding tight to him.
I licked my lips, and his eyes followed the movement before his own tongue repeated the process against his.
And I acted.
Without thought.
Without a care beyond what my body urged me to do.
Lifting on to my toes, I recklessly pressed my lips to his.
A wave of chills washed over me. Excitement at the feel of his soft lips spread across my skin. His hand on my back contracted, but it was the only part of him that moved. It took me less than a moment to realize he wasn’t kissing me back. He wasn’t shoving me away, but he wasn’t reciprocating either.
I’d made a mistake. I slowly eased back, breaking the connection between our lips, and opened my eyes, realizing that while I’d been lost in a moment I’d probably regret forever, he’d stood frozen, with his eyes wide open.
“I’m. . .” I tried to say the words, but they barely fell out in a whisper. They were hollow anyway, since I still clung to him. Was still pressed solidly against him. “I’m sor—”
I never got to finish before he leaned down and attacked my lips.4For as frozen and inactive as he’d been a second before, he was giving it ten times more. He devoured me, like a desperate man trying to push past all the reasons this was wrong. To drown in the pleasure of feeling our bodies close.
Despite the complete one-eighty, his eyes never closed. He licked at my lips, and I became desperate for more—to lose myself in the moment. Yet, I couldn’t look away. It wasn’t until I parted my lips, meeting his tongue halfway—tasting him, that his eyes slid closed.5,6
I dug my hands in his hair and closed my eyes, focusing solely on the taste of coffee on his tongue, the feel of his hands pressed against my back, holding me tight against the erection I could feel against my stomach.
He trailed his lips across my cheek and down my neck before working their way up again. This was happening. I couldn’t believe it.
His hands dropped to my ass and squeezed the soft flesh, groaning at the feel of me in his palms. Fuck. Had a man ever sounded so satisfied at just grabbing my butt? Confident in his desire for me, I threw everything I had into the kiss. Nipped at his lips, sucked on them the way I wanted to suck on his cock.
One hand continued to grip me and hold me close, moving to the center of my bottom where his long fingers reached around the curve of my ass, barely touching the edges of my core. I wanted to rock my hips back to give him better access, encourage him to go further. But I was distracted by his other hand skimming up my sides to cup my breasts. My nipple hardened even more, almost reaching for his thumb as it circled and flicked across the tip. Each swipe sent shocks to my pussy, and I was desperate to rub against him.
When was the last time I’d been touched from pure desire and not because someone paid me? I’d forgotten how good it felt, how exciting. Adrenaline coursed through my body, making every sensation stronger.
I needed more.
“Dr. Pierce,” I moaned when he made his way down my neck again.
And he froze.7
His lips halted their descent and the hands that had been pushing me to the edge of exploding, pulled back and curled tight into fists.
“Shit,” he whispered, the word brushing against my cheek. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” He stepped back and looked at his hands clenching and unclenching by his side before finally meeting my eyes. “I’m sorry. That was—”
“It’s okay.” I rushed to interrupt.
The guilt and regret in his eyes were too much. I needed this gone. The past few minutes of my fantasies coming to life faded as fast as they’d come. Despite the feeling of my heart closing in on itself, begging me to hold on a little longer, I knew it needed to end. I shouldn’t have kissed him. I’d fucked up, and the struggling indecision in his eyes weighed me down.
I needed to not drag him down in my mistake. I couldn’t listen to his apologies about how much of a mistake it was to have kissed me back, to touch me like he’d die if he didn’t. I didn’t want to hear his regret over something that had filled me with euphoria. “It’s okay. It was nothing. A moment. And all my fault. I’m so sorry. It was dumb.”
My apology was light, brushing what had just happened under the rug like it was no big deal. Like I couldn’t still feel my lips tingling and my stomach dropping. A part of me wanted to demand he continue, to make him not give in to my escape. But the rational part of me knew I had three more months with him. I didn’t want this moment to color everything. I didn’t want it to change everything we’d been.
“Oaklyn, this is not your fault.”
“It is. I kissed you like a silly girl. Like all the other girls that hit on you.”
