I don't think. I can't think. My brain, the one that never shuts up, that analyzes everything, that always has a plan, goes completely silent.
There's just him. His lips. His hands on me. The heat of his body against mine.
For one frozen second, I don't move or give in to the carnal demands of my body.
Then something inside me cracks open and my brain finally lets go of all the reasons why this is such a bad idea.
I grab the front of his t-shirt and pull him closer. I kiss him back with everything I've been pretending not to feel. He makes a sound, a low growl that has my toes curling in my sneakers. Then his other arm wraps around my waist and we're pressed together.
Good Lord, I'm drowning. And it’s so much more incredible than I’d have allowed myself to believe it could be.
He kisses like he does everything else. Focused. Intense. Like I'm the only thing in the world that matters.
And I kiss him back like I'm done lying to myself.
Because I am.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathless — and not from our run. He leans forward, towering over me. His forehead rests against mine, his hand still firmly gripping my hip.
“I shouldn't have done that,” he says. “I told myself I wouldn't push. That I'd let you?—”
“Your turn to shut up,” I rasp before pulling him back in.
This time it's slower. Deeper. Our hands are frenzied, unable to grip each other tight enough or pull each other close enough. My pulse hammers wildly against my throat, my insides igniting under the heat of his touch. His muscles tense and tighten under the palms of my hands. I melt into his embrace, my knees morphing into Jell-O as he continues his delicious oral assault.
Holy crap, I’ve kissed guys before but this man? He’s like an Olympic gold medalist make-out champion.
When we finally stop, I don't let go.
“That was—” I start to say.
“A mistake?” There’s vulnerability in his voice, like he's bracing for me to pull away. To run and hide behind my walls.
“I was going to say unexpected.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Was it? Really?”
“You kissing me? Not really.” I pause, a smile toying with my lips. “I meant the part about me kissing you back.”
His thumb traces my cheekbone, so gentle like I’m something to be treasured. “I've been trying not to do that for days.”
“I know. I could tell.”
“Could you?”
I shrug and flash him a coy smile. “You're not as subtle as you think.”
“Newsflash.” He laughs again. “Neither are you.”
We stand there in the fading light, foreheads touching, neither of us willing to break away from the other.
“What now?” I ask.
“Now we walk back. We’ll figure out the rest later.”
“That simple?” I lift an eyebrow.
“Yep. That simple.”
