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I squeak as he pulls me onto his lap. My hips sink down onto him, a soft moan parting my lips at the feel of him pressed to my center.
“Dani,” he croons.
His hands fist in my hair.
I roll my hips, eliciting another moan from my throat.
“Dani,” a purr this time.
Finally, blissfully, his lips are on mine.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
This is what a kiss should be. Something you feel through your whole body. My skin feels hypersensitive to every touch. My palms land on his solid chest, scrunching the fabric of his shirt between my hands. He kisses me with a desperation I mirror with my movements. I’m eager to get closer to him, to feel every part of him.
Our tongues tangle together with a passion we’ve kept chained for months. This is the kind of kiss I’ve seen in movies and read in the books he’s let me borrow. It’s a kiss that changes things. There’s no coming back from this. It doesn’t in any way compare to our first kiss. That was a hesitant, fragile thing, while this is a claiming.
I know for a fact, no one will ever be able to kiss me like Lachlan does.
It’s not like I have many kisses in my past to compare it to, but I know this is special.
Our lips move together, creating a melody of our own creation. My knees press against his side, and if my weight against him is a bother, he doesn’t show it.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, my breasts push into his chest. His hands skim up my sides, his thumbs resting beneath their swells.
I want him to go higher. I want him to strip me bare. I’ve never felt this aching kind of need before. My center pulses and I rub myself against him needing some kind of relief. I whimper, but he stifles the sound with a kiss.
My thoughts are a constant loop of Lachlan over and over again, his name echoing through my brain like a prayer.
I wonder if his thoughts are similar because he moans my name before diving in for another kiss.
In the back of my mind, my conscience whispers at me that I should stop this. Not because it’s wrong, but because he could get in trouble. That’s the last thing I want. I wouldn’t forgive myself if he ever got in trouble because of me.
Morally, the only thing separating us is his position.
Other than that, the way I see it, we’re both adults. I’m eighteen, I’ll be nineteen in a few months on April twenty-second. I know what I’m doing. I’m not being coerced, but my being a student and his being a school counselor puts us in a precarious situation.
But for right now, I want to forget all that.
I dive into the kiss voraciously, giving him my all. I live every stolen moment like it’s the last, and that means leaving no room for regrets. I have to give and take while I can.
Lachlan hardens beneath me, and the feel of him so long and firm against such an intimate place steals my breath, heating my skin. I wonder what it would feel like to reach between us, skim my hand beneath the band of his sweatpants, and wrap my hand around him.
“Fuck,” he growls, roughly yanking down the side of my shirt.
He peppers kisses over my bare shoulder and up my neck. My back arches, causing me to rock deeper into him.
“Lachlan.” I pull his hair, keeping him close to me. I’m terrified if I loosen my hold he’ll come to his senses and stop.
Biting down on my lip, I continue to rock against him, dangerously close to an orgasm. I’ve never had one like this before, with a guy—a man—only on my own. I’m chasing the feeling, even though I’m slightly embarrassed I could come so easily this way.
Lachlan wraps my hair around his fingers, tugging my lips back to his. He’s wild, unhinged. It’s building a craving inside me for so much more.
Lachlan is a gasoline cocktail and I’m more than willing to go up in flames.
“Why you?” he whispers between kisses. “Why. You.”
I don’t have an answer for him, not when I keep asking myself the same thing about him. Some things don’t have to make sense, I guess, not when they feel so right.
