I want to erase that look. I want to devour it.
“What?” she asks, feigning innocence. Her head tilts, lips parting like she’s daring me to say it.
“I might strangle you,” I mutter. My voice is low. My cheeks are hot. My entire body is hot, ready to combust at just the thought of her.
She steps in, her chest pushing into mine. Those damn smile lines sink into her cheeks as she grins.
“I might be into that,” she murmurs.
And then, she kisses me.
Twenty Eight
Peyton
Note to self: misconduct=kissing a pretty girl.
I’m unclear if that’s a universal rule or just a me-and-Darcy-specific clause. Either way, I’m not complaining. Because her lips are still attached to mine, and my hand is still feathered through her soft, shiny hair, and we are walking—no,stumbling—backwards, staggered breaths and roaming hands.
Her fingers grip the front of my hoodie, pulling me impossibly closer. I think I bump into the wall. Or the door. Or the desk, I don’t know. Because when her mouth breaks away, and those freckled lips attach to my neck, everything around me glows.
Still, I manage a breath. “Should we—” Her teeth sink into my neck. “Mmm—should we talk about this?”
Goosebumps flood my skin as she speaks against me. “Do you want this?” she murmurs. Something clenches deep inside me. I press my thighs together, tilting my head back as her lipsreturn to that sweet spot beneath my jaw, her nose tracing the curve of my chin.
“Y—Yes,” I answer, weaker than I care to admit. “Yes. I just—you said never again so I just want to make sure.”
A soft hot breeze blows across my neck as Darcy chuckles. “Peyton,” she says, and the moment it leaves her mouth, I’m suddenly reminded I have a name. I had forgotten that I exist outside of this. “Why do you have to make things so difficult?”Kiss.“It doesn’t have to mean anything.”Kiss.
My stomach sinks, but the pulse thrumming between my thighs amplifies.
“Right,” I breathe out. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
So I kiss her like an agreement.
Even if my heart is already traitoring its way toward more.
A soft sound escapes her lips, vibrating against mine. But she pulls back once more, her palms pressing softly against my chest.
“Unless you don’t want to—”
“I want to,” I say, cupping her cheek. I lean in and kiss her softer this time. Slower, tracing my thumb against her cheek as my lips memorize every inch of hers. “I want to.”
And suddenly, we’re on the bed. Darcy’s straddling me, lights on, thigh grinding against my hot center as her tongue traces circles around mine. When she shifts her weight onto her knees, she sucks a sharp breath through her teeth. Immediately, I pull back.
“Are you okay?” I ask, a concerned crease popping between my brows. Darcy, of course, rolls her eyes.
“I’m fine. You don’t have to baby me, Peyton,” she says, leaning back in to suck on my neck. An unbridled moan escapes me, a slick heat emanating between my thighs, but when a tense jolt runs through her muscles, I pull back again.
“You’re in pain,” I say, searching her eyes. She just rolls them again.
“I’m always in pain,” she breathes. She leans back in, but I don’t let her kiss me this time. I pull myself up slightly, leaning my back against the headboard. She huffs, collapsing back against my shins, and even that makes her wince.
I look at her earnestly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Her brows furrow. “I knew this would happen,” she exasperates, running a disappointed hand through her hair. “It’s okay. I understand.” She starts to slide off me, but my hands grip her waist keeping her in place.
“I said I don’t want to hurt you,” I vow. “I didn’t say I don’t want to fuck you.”
