Page 38 of Wild Promise

A whimper caught in her throat when I dragged my mouth from her lips, over her chin, and down the side of her neck. Her skin tasted fucking divine, and I groaned against her pulse point as she began rolling her hips over me in a way that promised something wild and untamed. Something fucking amazing.

Something I wasn’t going to survive.

My hands found her lush ass and, using the last bit of self-control I had, stilled her movements. It was pure torture and, despite my recent masochistic tendencies, was more than I could take.

“More,” she panted, her sweet breath washing over me. “I want more.”

Fuck. Those words nearly finished me.

I nuzzled against the side of her neck, inhaling her, reluctant to let go but certain that if I didn’t, she’d hate me tomorrow. “Fuck, firecracker. Me too. So much more.”

What I didn’t say was how much I wanted more than just one night. Those words lodged in my throat like a weapon, making me feel weak.

“I want you so much,” I repeated instead. Words that didn’t convey nearly enough but were easiest to say. Safer to say.

She dipped her head, finding my lips again. “Please,” she begged between kisses. “You make me feel so good.”

God, fuck, she was trying to kill me.

“I like hearing you beg,” I admitted, my voice a low growl that gave away my desperation. “And one day, when my head’s between your legs and I’m feasting on your pussy, I hope to hear a lot more of it.”

Her whole body shuddered against mine.

“But there’s no rush.” I pressed my forehead to hers. “Saying I want you isn’t an invitation for sex. It’s just a truth I needed you to hear. And maybe when I take you home tonight, still aching for it, you’ll understand how hard it was not to take you to my bed right now.”

Her sigh was more like an impatient, strangled groan, and it made me smile that she might be even half as worked up as I was.

“Besides,” I reminded her, placing a light kiss at the corner of her mouth, “we agreed to one date, and if it went well, one kiss at the end of the night. I don’t want you to look back at this and regret it.”

I don’t want you to regret me.

She sat up, putting space between us, and I grieved the loss of her—her heat, her weight, the press of her body against mine. It might be the right thing to do, but it still fucking sucked. Especially when, even at a distance, the lust burning in her eyes was enough to scorch me.

“Yes.” She nodded, reluctance seeping into her tone. “You’re right. That was the agreement.”

“It was.” I ran my hands up her outer thighs, unable to stop touching her. “And as you so nicely complimented me on earlier, I’m good at sticking to my word.”

“Damn you. You really are.”

Laughing, I smacked her lightly on the ass, forgetting about her earlier injury and making her wince. The word sorry sat on the tip of my tongue, but I held it back. It wasn’t what she wanted to hear, and something about the way she bit her lip after made me not so fucking sorry at all.

“Guess this date’s over, then, firecracker. We’ve already had our one kiss.”

“You’re lucky it was a good one.”

“Only good?” I coaxed with a smirk.

I was the luckiest guy alive. No question.

Chapter Thirteen

Melina

Sunday was the one day of the week I reserved for family. No work. No friends. No bill collectors. We’d cook, clean, play games, and spend time together that our busy schedules didn’t allow during the rest of the week. But this Sunday was different.

Not that my plans had changed. Dinner was in the oven. Olivia and Lucy were prepping the board games, arguing over whose turn it was to pick. Dad was lounging by the fire with a magazine in hand, and I’d spent the entire morning scrubbing corners otherwise forgotten. I was physically present and doing my share, but mentally, I was stuck on last night.

Lost in the impossibility of Zane Alexander.