Nope. It was the hum before something life-changing.
His lips were soft.
Vulnerable almost.
Tentative for a moment.
His hand held me still. I brought my other hand up to frame his face. His soft beard tickled my fingertips and lips then a simple flick of his tongue changed everything.
As if my taste unleashed something else inside of him.
He slanted his mouth over mine and I groaned as my body came alive. The hum spun into an electrical storm as my fingers raked through his beard into his hair.
He straightened, dragging me off the coffee table onto his lap. One arm banded around my lower back and his fingers tunneled under my sweater to grip my shoulder until I was plastered against him.
I was going nowhere.
Safe and wild at the same time.
I gripped the back of the couch as the kiss got more heated.
I wrapped my arm around his neck, swept away into his scent and his taste. The wine, sharp on his tongue and as drugging as if I’d downed the whole bottle.
His fingers moved around to cup my jaw, his thumb stroking under my chin until I opened even more for him. His silvery eyes slitted and met mine as the kiss went syrupy slow. His nose stroked along mine. “Phoebe.”
His voice was dark and ragged.
“Yeah?”
Was that my voice? It was little more than a needy whisper.
“I’m six kinds of fucked-up.”
I frowned, lifting a hand to his face. My fingertips trailed the lines beside his mouth then over to his lower lip. “Okay. Are you trying to warn me?”
He nodded and bit the tip of my finger.
“Drugs?”
He shook his head.
Relief kicked my heart back into gear.“Alcohol?”
“It’s happened before.” His dark lashes hid his eyes as he stared at my mouth before meeting my gaze again. “But mostly just my own mind.”
“Okay,” I said with a shuddering sigh.
“I want you.”
I rocked against his lap where I was very aware of just how true that statement was. “Handily we seem to be on the samepage.” I grinned, but it fell away when his face stayed serious. “That was a joke, Dutch. Should I still call you Dutch?”
His eyes burned. “Everyone calls me Dutch.”
I lightly grazed my nails through his beard and up to his overlong hair. “I do enjoy being an individual.” I scraped my nails along his scalp until I got a handful of the thick chestnut curls. I tugged a little and his silvery eyes went molten.
His hold on my shoulders intensified and I hissed out a surprised breath as he drew his fingers down my back and found my bra, flicking it open.
“Atticus.”
