“Scared?”
She glares. “Daring me again?”
I grin. “Every time.”
She grabs the pole. “Fine.”
Then she lets go.
She lands against my chest with a thud, her body plastered against mine. My hands grip her hips on instinct. Her chest heaves against me. Our faces aretoo close.
“Good form,” I say, voice hoarse.
She sways. “I think I broke something.”
“My sanity?” I murmur.
She tries to push off me, but I hold her there. Just a second longer.
“Let go, Clay.”
“No.”
Her hands flatten on my chest. “People—could come back?—”
“They won’t.”
Her eyes blaze. “This is a bad idea.”
I dip my head. “Say stop.”
She doesn’t.
Instead, her fingers fist in my shirt and she drags my mouth down to hers.
The kiss is chaos. Teeth, tongue, years of tension exploding in a collision of mouths. She tastes like strawberries and regret. Her moan ignites something in me, something reckless and deep. I back her against the wall, bracing my forearms beside her head.
She gasps. “Clay?—”
“I’ve waited too long to do this,” I growl.
“You should’ve said something.”
“You should’ve run.”
She exhales, trembling. “You should stop daring me to.”
I press my forehead to hers. “Then stop answering the dare.”
She leans up and kisses me again—harder this time. A slap of lips and desperation, like she’s trying to burn every thought from her head.
I lift her onto the wall-mounted hose rack, her thighs parting instinctively around my waist. I press my body into hers, groaning into her mouth. My hands roam, greedy, selfish.
She arches into me. “Clay…”
“I’m not sorry,” I whisper, dragging my mouth along her jaw. “For this. For wanting you.”
Her nails scrape my scalp. “This is insane.”
