She nods once, her gaze fixed on mine. “Kiss me, Reed,” she whispers, her fingers slipping up to the back of my neck, drawing me closer. “I dare you.”
Fuck it.
I close the distance.
The first press of our lips starts slow, but the pace quickens instantly in the way she exhales against me, her fingers tightening in my hair. The kiss deepens before either of us can stop it.
I angle her closer, my palm spanning the small of her back as she leans fully into me, her lips parting just slightly, inviting more.
She gasps into the kiss, and every bit of my restraint shatters.
My hand moves up the contours of her back, holding her tightly, ensuring she feels how much this moment I’ve longed forwrecksme.
She pulls back a fraction, her lips brushing mine as shespeaks through unsteady breaths. “Tell me you don’t feel the same way,” she challenges quietly, her blue eyes searching my face for a lie she knows I can’t give.
I shake my head, our noses touching again. “I wish I didn’t,” I exhale. “God, Layla, I really wish I didn’t feel this pull. But I fucking feel everything.” I reply as my forehead rests against hers.
Her thumb traces the corner of my mouth. “Then kiss me again.”
I lift her fully into my arms, gently settling her onto my lap with the utmost care I’ve ever felt.
Her hands cradle my jaw as I kiss her deeper, pouring every unspoken truth into the movement of our tongues. Her heartbeat pounds against my chest, in sync with mine, as we hold on to this moment we’ve been moving toward since the second we met.
She isn’t thinking about tomorrow, nor am I.
We pull away again, our lips nearly touch, breaths tangled, hearts pounding.
“Reed,” she whispers, her voice trembling with fear and longing, “please don’t stop.”
I close my eyes just once, not to pull away, but to stay steady, and when I open them again, all the restraint I had is gone.
“I can’t stop,” I tell her.
She presses her forehead to mine, our breaths mingling in the tiny space neither of us dares to widen. The taste of her still lingers on my lips, and it takes every shred of sense I have to keep my hands from roaming where they shouldn’t go.
She’s still straddling my lap. Still holding my face as if I’m something worth touching, still gazing at me with a hunger to swallow every fear I’ve ever had.
Her fingertips drift slowly across my scarred cheek, down my neck, tracing the lines of burned skin.
The lightest touch, but my entire body reacts; I feel my dick hardening beneath my sweats. It’s been years since a woman has touched me.
“I’m not scared of your scars,” she says softly, voice trembling with emotion.
My throat tightens. I grab her hips instinctively, steadying myself, because if I let myself fall into that line too quickly, I won’t find my way back up for air.
“Layla…”
She leans in again, brushing her lips against my map of scarred skin, slow enough that my eyes flutter shut. “You’re more than them, I want you to know that,” she whispers against my skin.
Her mouth lifts upward, reconnecting with mine; a gentle kiss that quickly turns ravenous, her hands threading into my hair, pulling just hard enough to draw a growl from deep within my chest.
I kiss her back with everything I’ve been trying not to feel; her lips parting for me, our bodies pressed tightly, a slow grind of her center on the thick line of my cock that’s driving me wild.
She breathes against my mouth, “Don’t stop.”
And God help me, stopping is the last thing I want.
But I force myself to, barely holding back, though every cell in my body screams to keep going. My forehead rests against hers again, chests heaving, trying to catch my breath and regain sanity.
