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Just the idea of his reaction put the fear of God in me. And considering that all Michael had right now was this breakroom and Nonno’s good graces, he had a lot more to lose if we were caught.
“You don’t need to say it,” I whispered into his chest, my voice barely audible. “I get it. We both know that we’re playing with fire.”
He pulled me closer until our lips were almost touching. “You have no idea,” he growled, his eyes burning into mine. “No fuckin’ clue.”
We stared at each other for a long time. Past the point where my tears had dried. The hand in my hair tightened so that a bite of pain threaded through his deft touch. I didn’t hate it. I didn’t hate it at all.
Especially when Michael’s gaze dropped to my lips and stayed there.
“Fuck, Lea…” he drifted off. “If we start again…I don’t think I can stop myself.”
Which meant I should stop him. His meaning was clear—he was losing his self-control, but he would follow mine.
Unfortunately, that had skipped out the door with the rest of my self-respect.
“Then don’t,” I said as I pulled him close. “Please, don’t stop.”
One moment, Michael’s hands were threaded in my hair, his body a wall against mine, and the next, our lips were locked in another searing kiss. It was as if all the tension and unspoken emotions from the evening had been distilled into this one perfect moment.
His mouth was rough, his kiss fierce and passionate, as if everything he’d been holding back inside him had finally found an escape. The walls of the room seemed to dissolve, and the air around us grew thick with emotion. His hands slid down my back, pulling me closer, deeper into the embrace, sliding down to take solid handfuls of my ass in a way that told me that this time he wasn’t letting go for anything.
Michael hadn’t been kidding when he said he wanted me too much to stop. It was as if every ounce of desire he contained had been unleashed. His hands explored me, pulling my shirt out of my hands, tugging at my pants, and then pulling them and my boots off until I stood before him in nothing but my bra and panties.
It was the most naked I’d ever been with a boy. With anyone, really.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked, as his fingertips played up and down my spine, quivering with anticipation. I could hear the tremor in his voice, the uncertainty that, despite his rock-solid exterior, he felt too.
But this wasn’t laced with guilt. It was more like awe. That, like me, he couldn’t quite believe this was really happening. That it could ever feel so good.
I took a deep breath, then another, before I finally nodded. “Yes,” I whispered. “I’m sure.”
He smiled a little, his eyes dark and hungry. Then he pulled me back against him, his lips meeting mine again.
A wave of anticipation raced through me. With one swift movement, his hands moved to my waist, pulling me flush against his solid form. His unmistakable hardness pressed into my belly through his jeans, teasing a heart-wrenching gasp. Those talented fingers began at the curve of my hipbone, gliding across my panties, then tracing the contour of my body with a familiarity that spoke volumes of his desires. Each touch was lighter than a feather but turned my insides molten.
“Are you wet?” he whispered huskily against my earlobe, nipping it softly before trailing kisses down my neck.
The question made me whimper; it was so raw and primal. Neither polite nor gentle. Open desire expressed in words.
“Yes,” I barely managed to exhale.
“Let’s see, then.”
Two skilled fingers slipped under the delicate fabric of my underwear and brushed over that most sensitive place. I bit back a moan.
Deftly, he began to explore. Finding the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, toying with the elastic edges of my underwear, stroking underneath every so often. I arched against him, shaking from nerves and desire alike.
I didn’t know how to tell him the truth. That despite my talk, this was the farthest I’d ever gone. That Victor had slipped a hand under my skirt while we were watching Top Gun, but I’d jumped up from the couch as soon as I heard Nonna’s keys in the front door. Two weeks later, he was in Gina Reyes’s arms. And since then, there had been no one. Stolen kisses at school dances and catcalls on the street did not experience make.
I wanted more, but I was barely aware of what more was. It was basically all theory at this point.
Michael’s touch, however, was extremely real.
“This all right?” Michael asked as I writhed against his exploring fingers.
“I–I don’t—oh!”
His thumb dipped lower circled around the slick bundle of nerves I only touched in the shower or on the few occasions I had my bedroom to myself. It was so much—almost too much.
