Page 67 of I Choose You

I dragged my gaze to meet his. In his words, I heard the same honesty and sincerity that he’d spoken with before. When he told me that he hoped to see me again after that good-bye kiss at the bar, I’d heard it then. He wasn’t playing a joke or talking out of his ass.

He meant it. And that mattered—a lot.

His pinkie shifted. It was the slightest movement, a mere press of his finger against my leg. But it jolted me. The feel of his skin against my bare flesh.

“Everyone at the party tonight will remember you,” he promised.

Everyone? Right now, alone and locked in his intense gaze, I didn’t give a shit. This wasn’t high school anymore. Popularity contests hardly counted. Adulthood was brutal like that—or forgiving.

As I dropped my stare to his lips, I relished the kindness in his words. He spoke them like he believed them.

And I only cared that he would remember me.

I broke.

Before I could think or try to pick at my motivation, I turned toward him. His hand slid higher up my thigh as I shifted, and it goaded me further. I reached up to cup his face and pulled him close.

I kissed him.

I covered my lips over his. He stilled but didn’t retreat. Still so patient. Still so accommodating and letting me do as I wanted.

I pulled back, stunned at the zing of lust that claimed me at the first press of his warm, soft lips. Panting, I stared at him. Inches parted us, but I needed to know. I couldn’t lunge at him without knowing if he wanted this or if he was merely appeasing me after such an emotional outburst. He was that sweet, that kind.

Darting my gaze from his eyes to his lips, I tried to read him. I looked for any indication that he felt this attraction the same way I did. When I looked back into his eyes, that dark, heated stare didn’t abate. His breaths came out as choppy as mine did. Locked in this stare-down, I hesitated.

Until his fingers dug into my leg. Higher than they were before, his fingertips pressed into my bare skin. A grip of desperation.

It was all the answer I needed. He wasn’t kissing me out of pity. He wanted this. He wanted me.

I brought my face to his and closed the distance. His hot breaths mingled with mine until I stole them completely. I wasn’t concerned about finesse. I obeyed the pull between us. I sealed my lips to his and fell head-first into the desire that lit me up.

Hot. Hard. Fast.

I couldn’t get enough of his lips brushing back against mine. Then his tongue, warm and insistent at the seam of my lips. He slid it in and dueled with mine, and I moaned at his taste.

Every inch of me felt on fire. Thrilling want coursed through me, and I gave in, eager to take all that I wanted.

A kiss was all it took. We didn’t break apart as we grabbed for each other. I reached for him, gripping the back of his neck to lock him in place. His fingers dug in deeper on my thigh, and the idea of his big hand so close to more of my bare skin electrified me.

I rose up on my feet only to pivot my knee on the bench. Facing him, on my knees on the bench, I straddled him. He tipped his head back, craning his neck to keep his demanding mouth on mine, his wicked tongue thrusting in to explore. Above him, I framed his face. My hair fell to the side as I leaned into him.

Pulling back, I gentled my kisses to slow down. I didn’t want to stop. I couldn’t. Stopping wasn’t possible. But I didn’t want to rush and miss a single second of savoring this combustion of lust.

He groaned as I sucked his lip into my mouth, and I smiled as I covered them again, wet and warm from our kisses. His hands spread up my thighs, shoving the dress toward my hips. As the fabric bunched, he moved again, taking each of my ass cheeks into his hands and gripping hard.

He groaned, chasing my mouth to kiss me hard.

I grinned, lowering my aching pussy to grind against him.

“I thought you were wearing the plaid,” he rasped against my mouth.

I kissed him, holding on as I rubbed against the erection straining beneath his pants.

I could have laughed, but feeling the friction of his big hard dick sobered me. As I teased myself with the hardness of that long bulge pushing against me, I was in no mood for humor.

I wanted him. And I wanted him now.

“You’re not wearing anything under this, are you?” He dragged his hot hands back to my thighs. Taking advantage of the liberal slit, he shoved his hands back to my ass and gripped my bare flesh hard.