Page 44 of Hearts at War

With a jerk, he reacted. It was a knee-jerk impulse, and it kicked me into snapping fully awake.

What the—

I reared back slightly, wrenching my eyelids open. Finding him looking at me, with just as wide-open eyes full of surprise and confusion, he breathed hard.

What in the fuck?

My stunned shock didn’t last long. Embarrassment should’ve come kicking me into a blush. But it didn’t. It couldn’t.

The second he dropped his stare to my lips, the ones I’d just crushed against his, I was done for.

Too sleepy to be quicker, too hungry to care about what was right or wrong, I fell back to the lulling, drugging comfort I’d felt in my dream.

I crushed my mouth back against his. He’d moved in the same, synchronized effort, lowering his head toward mine. Again, I was treated to the shock of kissing him. Heat spiraled through me, not only from the arousal overtaking me but also the pure thrill of taking a risk like this, with him. Desire controlled me, and it was without thought, without conscious plans, that I lifted my hand to frame his face.

A deep growl ripped from his lips, but I didn’t stop. I swallowed his needy, guttural sound down as I parted my lips. I couldn’t break apart from him. A separation felt wrong. Clinging to him and desperate for more of his bold taste, I moaned and gave him access to slide his tongue into my mouth and explore.

Once more, he made that sexy sound. Of need. Of unbridled lust and want.

I kept my hand on his head, securing him right where I wanted him. The bristle of his beard was different. The dominating push of his mouth over mine was hot. And the urgency that he showed me rivaled how badly I needed him.

Rolling me to the right, encouraging me onto my back, he shoved his body against and over mine. Not once did our lips leave the other’s. Not for a second did we pause in kissing like there was no tomorrow, like oxygen mattered at all.

Underneath him, as he braced himself with his forearms pushing on the mattress, he kept me close and hovered over me. I was pinned. Sandwiched between the bulk of his body and the softness of the bed, and I couldn’t imagine giving up a moment of this pleasure. Of this security and comfort.

He lowered his left hand, down my side and over my ass. Every inch of his touch burned me. All his movements fueled me to letting go of all the common sense hidden in the back of my mind. As he cupped the top of my thigh, he hooked my leg higher to wrap it around his waist.

Oh.

Fuck yeah.

This.

I felt him everywhere. In my tingling lips he brushed his over with demanding pressure. In my aching breasts where my nipples beaded harder against his naked chest. My cami was so thin, and my sweater was gone, likely shoved off as I tossed and turned in sleep. Between my legs, parted wider now with him holding my leg up, I enjoyed that growing tension and pressure. He ground down, rubbing against me. And I reacted in kind, trying to dry hump him the best I could with the bulk of his body over mine.

We weren’t supposed to do this.

A dream was a dream. Not a prompt to reenact it in reality.

It was on me to analyze the sexy scenes I’d been waking up to, not project them on him.

But it was impossible not to.

We’d declared this “arrangement” to be simple and chaste. No touching. We’d agreed to that last night. When I got into bed with him, we’d started on that path, sticking to opposite sides of the bed with generous inches of a buffer between us.

Somehow, through the night, I’d gravitated toward him. Or perhaps he’d eased closer to me and I hadn’t woken. Regardless of how we’d come to the middle, we were entwined with each other. Arms hugging, legs wedged together, bodies flush, and now...

Our tongues dueling for a longer taste. Our mouths sealed together to prolong this kiss.

No.

You’re not dreaming.

This was me, letting my desire control my actions.

This was us, both lapsing in our mutual loathing for each other.

He growled, squeezing so his fingers dug into the flesh of my ass. The tip of his digits put that much more pressure on me, that much slower to my pussy where I felt the smear of my juices, so aroused that I was dripping.