Page 33

I waffled for too long, and as I came to a decision, prepared to act, Mordecai turned and peered out the windshield, destroying my momentary confidence.

“Where would a final boss hide?” he asked. “The big guy at the end. It would have to be somewhere tucked away. Somewhere people don’t normally go, or they forget exists. Either that, or somewhere protected. Restricted. Perhaps if—”

“Mordecai.”

He stopped talking, his gaze falling to his hands. Was he nervous? Did he think I wouldn’t like him if he didn’t find the same joy in gaming? Was the module idea simply to get my attention?

“Fuck it,” I said under my breath.

Life was too short not to take risks.

Mordecai glanced up at my exclamation. Before he could ask what I meant, I leaned across the console, cupped his jaw, and drew him against my mouth.

He squeaked in surprise but didn’t protest or pull away. The noise dissolved in the intensity of the kiss. Mordecai wasn’t shy. All my worries and uncertainties about returned interest went out the window, the instant we connected.

The first thing I noticed was the temperature of his skin. His lips were as cold as his hands, reminding me of long winter nights, skating on a frozen pond, icicles, and snowflakes. The wind against my cheeks as I raced Dad down the ski slopes.

The observation was fleeting, erased by a raging fire of lust that quickly burned between us. Mordecai kissed with equal fervor, half crawling over the console to be closer while scrambling for purchase on the dash. He snagged my hip and pressed a palm to my abdomen before gliding it higher. My shirt bunched under the assault, revealing a bare patch of skin.

He snaked his hand under my shirt, and I shivered at the icy touch. When he tried to pull away, I whispered against his lips, “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. Moving his hand higher, he brushed a thumb over one pec, then glided it toward the other when, in the center of my sternum, he gasped in pain or surprise and withdrew like he’d been burned.

“What happened?”

He stared at his fingers for a moment, brow furrowed as he rubbed their tips together. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” As if to make his point, he secured hold of my hair and tugged me against his mouth once again.

I wanted to tell him I wasn’t going anywhere. That I wanted this desperately.

When I traced my tongue along his lips, he opened, and we explored deeper. The silky entanglement thrummed in my low belly, bleeding heat through my veins and pooling in my groin.

Mordecai tangled his fingers in the knotted bun at my nape and raked his nails over my scalp, making me shiver with lust. I touched him back, wanting to feel every part of him. The confines of the Jeep worked against us. I fought to untuck his shirt, losing the battle against coats and belt buckles, until we dissolved into laughter.

Giving up, I focused on kissing him. When he scraped his teeth along my bottom lip, the sharp point of that sneaky eyetooth snagged the skin. He applied faint pressure, and I groaned.

But as things were heating up, as I finally snuck a hand under his shirt and his mouth moved to suck on my neck, Mordecai jolted again with a pained gasp and broke free.

Burgundy eyes ablaze, he stared at me in confusion.

My heart raced out of control. My cock ached.

He was a deliciously rumpled mess.

“Why did you stop? What’s wrong?” I didn’t want to break the delicate bubble surrounding us, but something had thrown him off.

Forehead creased, he ran his tongue along his lips. “I’m… I’m afraid I can’t control myself.”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

With a ghost of a laugh, Mordecai drew back and returned to his side of the vehicle. My skin was on fire, and I still tasted him on my lips, a rich fusion of flavors I couldn’t describe or identify. All I knew was that I wanted more.

The following few minutes passed in awkward silence. Mordecai seemed off-kilter, but not in the same way as me. He stole a few glances in my direction, scanning my person like he was looking for something. For a time, he studied his fingers, rubbing their tips together in the same fashion as earlier.

“Is something the matter?”