Page 71 of Protecting Love

“I’m not afraid.”

“Good.” Paris moved into his space. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t step back. Didn’t take his eyes off of hers. She leaned up, loving that he was tall enough she got to do that, then puckered her lips and waited for him to plant one on her.

He did. Too quick. Too brief.

Not sexy in the least.

Bummer.

“Don’t pout,” he said, then wrapped his hand behind her neck, his fingers threading into her hair, his mouth landing on hers.

This was what she was talking about. This was what she’d meant.

His mouth wasn’t careful now. It wasn’t rushed either. It was slow and intent, like he was taking his time learning her.

Learning how she responded, how she softened, how her breath caught the second his thumb slid under her jaw.

The kiss deepened, the heat blooming fast and sharp, and flickered low in her stomach. Her hands fisted in his T-shirt, not pulling him closer because he was already there, but just not letting him move back. He was solid, unyielding, and... everywhere.

His grip at the back of her neck was firm but steady, anchoring her, holding her exactly where he wanted her.

God.

Her knees went weak. She barely noticed until he shifted, bracing her with his body, like he’d felt it too. Like he knew. And that sent another heady and disorienting rush through her.

She tasted mint, heat, and him.

And beneath it all, something dangerous, like his control was barely restrained, as if she gave him one more second, one more inch, he’d take it.

That scared her. That thrilled her.

And told her everything she needed to know about him and how he really felt.

She dragged in a breath against his mouth and broke the kiss, pressing her forehead to his chest as she sucked in air. Her lungs burned. Her pulse was everywhere.

“Okay,” she said breathlessly. “Okay—wow.”

His hand didn’t leave her neck right away. When it finally did, it slid down slowly, deliberately, like he was reminding both of them he could touch her… and was choosing not to.

He was letting her take the lead.

Or maybe he was hinting at what he really wanted.

The funny part, she was right there with him when she’d never been that way with another man this early on before.

But she’d told herself she wasn’t going to fight anything.

Not now. Not with him.

Not when she admitted she was stepping out of her carefully crafted world and they could do that together.

She laughed softly, her limbs shaky. “That,” she said, lifting her head to look at him, “was definitely not a polite good-morning kiss.”

His eyes were dark and unreadable, his breathing just as uneven as hers. “No,” he said. “It wasn’t.”

Her lips still tingled. Her body felt too warm, too aware, like everything had shifted slightly off balance and she knew he’d steady her if she just asked.

She stepped back, needing space even as she hated losing the contact. “Breakfast,” she said, gesturing vaguely toward the kitchen. “Before one of us does something reckless.”