And right now, I want to be fucked.
“Kiss me, Gavin,” I plead.
I watch in real time as his resolve crumbles. As his brows tighten even more. As the green in his eyes slips even closer to black and his nostrils flare at my request.
And as he mutters a quiet, “What are you doing to me?”
Then he kisses me.
Gavin kisses me.
This stranger. This man I’ve known for less than two hours. The one who held me as I cried over my ex and bandaged my wound. The man who listened to me ramble about my failed marriage, showed compassion and said I owed no apologies, and made me feel something for the first time in over a year.
And he kisses megood.
His lips are soft yet hard, his scruff scratching against me in the most delicious way. His fingers tighten on my lower back, pulling me closer to him, as if that were possible. His thigh sinks deeper between my own, and I love the weight of it—ofhim—as he coaxes my mouth open.
His tongue touches mine, and I was right. He does taste like cinnamon. Scotch too, peaty, and damn is it a good combination. One I could get far too used to. I get so lost in his kiss that I don’t even register my hips moving until he grunts against me painfully. He wrenches his mouth away, peering down at me with hazy eyes.
“We’re playing a dangerous game,” he warns.
I shrug. “I’m fine with that.”
“Christ,” he mutters, dropping his head into the crook of my neck, his lips brushing against me there. He alternates between soft and hard kisses, sucking at my skin just enough to leave a mark before moving on.
It’s torture. Pure torture. I want more. No, Ineedmore. I roll my hips against him again, and he groans again.
“Fuck,” he says against my neck as he drags his kisses back to that spot under my ear. “You’re undoing me, you know that?”
I nod, sliding against him once more.
“What do you want, Nessa?” he asks softly, his tongue darting out to taste me. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”
I want to be kissed again. I want to be touched. I want to be looked at like I’m the only girl in the world. I want to be ravaged. I want to be fucked. I want to be taken slowly and softly. I want to erase the pain of the last year and a half. I want to get lost in this moment and forget everything else exists.
I want to feel like I matter.
I slip my hand over the back of his head, tugging at his hair until he hovers over me once more with his cloudy eyes and kiss-swollen lips.
“You, Gavin. I want you.”
CHAPTER 7
LOCKE
“Earth to Whitlocke.”
Fingers snap in front of my face, and I pull my attention from the woman behind the bar for the first time since we sat down.
“Sorry,” I say to Lawson. “What was that?”
“I asked if your grandparents still have that black-and-white TV.”
“Uh, I have no idea. Why?”
“Wanted to use it for our slumber party.” He juts his chin out toward Fox, who looks like he regrets agreeing to this but is far too polite to say so.
“You were serious about that?” Keller asks.
