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Cain

Page 49

by Jessica Gadziala

But I forced my hands to stay where they were until she wasn’t just melting, but gooey, in my arms.

Only then did I grab the back of her neck and angle her head up.

Her eyes opened—heavy-lidded and hazy.

She glanced from my eyes to my lips, then back, her own lips parting like an invitation.

I wasn’t about to turn that down.

I lowered down, but paused just a whisper from her lips, leaving just enough space for her to close the distance.

There was only the barest of seconds before her lips pressed to mine, all soft and sweet, maybe the slightest bit hesitant.

I let her lead, but tightened my hold on her, giving her a squeeze of encouragement.

A soft whimper escaped her mouth, muffled by my lips. Then she was taking control. Angling, pressing harder and deeper.

Only then did I take over—my lips slanting over hers, using a more hard, deliberate pressure, keeping the kiss from becoming too hungry, letting it stay deep and intimate instead.

It was a car door slamming close somewhere in the parking lot behind us that had us breaking apart.

Georgie’s breath huffed white smoke into the air.

“Let’s get back to the bike,” I said, hearing the thickness of need in my voice just as well as I saw it in her face. “It’s getting cold fast. The ride is going to be chilly.”

With that, we headed back. The night air and the long walk helped tamp down my desire. But it ratcheted back up as I got on the bike and felt her slide up behind me—her legs wrapped around the backs of mine, her breasts pressed to my back.

I was right about the ride.

By the time we got back to the club, I was cold, so I knew she must have been freezing.

“Do you want to come in for a coffee, or is it getting late for you?”

I saw the answer on her face: the mix of desire and hesitation.

“We can do coffee another time,” I told her. “I know a good place.”

“You know all the good places,” she said, shooting me a sweet smile as I walked her to her car. “I’d like that,” she added after manually unlocking her door.

I reached to pull it open.

“How about I give you my number, and when you’re in the mood, you just shoot me the coffee emoji?” I suggested, wanting to take the pressure off her, to remove the chance that she would overthink it to death.

She handed me her phone.

She had a burner.

Lord knew the club used them often enough for me to spot one.

It was probably all she could afford.

I plugged in my number and handed it back to her.

“This was really nice.”

“Yeah, it was. Now go home and get warm.”

I leaned in, pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, then waited for her to slide in the seat before closing the door.