Page 78 of Breaking Hollywood

No cuddling. And definitely no attachments.

Speedy is the first woman I’ve actually slept with without screwing first.

I glance down at her face.

Her eyes are closed, lashes brushing her cheekbones.

Fuck, she’s pretty. Perfect. Beautiful.

I can’t stop looking at her.

And, right now, I don’t have to. I can freely stare at her without fear of being caught.

Her rosy lips are full and plump, like she’s just been kissed. And she should be kissed, all the time, by me.

Freckles that I’ve never noticed before dust the bridge of her pert little nose. A tiny mole is near the corner of her right eye. A small scar on her chin looks like a chicken pox mark.

My fingers itch to touch her. To see if her skin is as soft as it looks.

But I can’t. I shouldn’t.

But just one little touch can’t hurt, right?

I lift a hand to her face and brush the tips of my fingers over her cheek and to her forehead. I brush the stray strands of hair off her face. Then, I move the backs of my fingers down her other cheek to her jaw where I trace my fingertips along it, stopping near her mouth. My thumb hovers dangerously close.

I can feel her warm breath on my skin.

I wonder how she tastes.

Fuck, I want to know so badly.

My mouth is dry with longing. Constant longing. And wanting her.

It’s driving me insane.

Look how bad it’s gotten. Like a total creeper, I’m touching up her face while she sleeps.

I withdraw my hand and force myself to look away. I take a deep breath.

“Gabe.”

The word is so quietly spoken, I think I imagined it.

Until I look back to her and see her eyes are open.

And filled with need. They mirror my own.

God, I want her.

Her hand comes up and caresses my cheek.

“Ava.” Her name comes out like a warning. A warning I don’t mean.

She traces her fingertip across my lips, leaving a path of fire in her touch.

I cup her cheek and press my forehead to hers as I try to control my feelings.

“Kiss me,” she whispers.