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He was more tempted than ever to kiss her. Like some fairy tale, he wanted to wake the princess with a kiss.
Except he was no prince, and he had many more carnal desires than a simple kiss. He hadn’t given in, though, keeping his word of letting her say when, and somehow fell asleep with the stiffest wood known to man.
When he woke, tangled up with Bronte, a pang reverberated in his chest. He’d always been selfish when it came to his sexual partners, never really caring much about what he could give them besides a few minutes of his attention, yet he’d spent the night holding Bronte while she slept because that was what she needed. And it felt good to give it to her.
That was when it hit him. He thought he was being the good guy, doing the chivalrous thing, being totally selfless. But he wasn’t. He was still hiding himself from her, keeping his true identity a secret when he knew it’d hurt both of them when she found out.
With his coffee mug full, he took it into the living room, although he stopped short at the sight outside his window. Bronte was sprinting across the lawn toward his door. He placed his drink down as she frantically knocked and rang the doorbell.
He panicked and swung the door open. “What’s wrong? Is it your dad?”
She shook her head and brushed her messy hair away from her face before fixing her glasses higher on her nose.
He tugged on her hand to get her inside. “What is it?”
“I, um…” Her eyes skirted around the room for a moment before meeting his. “You were there for me yesterday when I needed you, and I was just thinking it’d be a shame to waste any more time being afraid to make a mistake,” she said all in one breath.
He waited as she stared at him. As her eyes bounced between his, then moved down his nose to his mouth. He waited as she considered him, as if maybe her next words were hard to say. “The only mistake is not kissing you earlier.”
She reached for him then, wrapping her arms around his neck, her mouth finally, finally, meeting his. Her kiss was soft and welcoming, but not nearly enough as her lips brushed back and forth across his. He banded his arms around her middle, lifting her feet off the floor, urging her to wrap her legs around his waist as he traced the opening of her mouth with his tongue, coaxing it open.
“You taste like coffee,” she murmured, but he didn’t let her get another word out.
He sat down on the couch, guiding Bronte onto his lap. Her hands roamed over his chest and back before resting on his shoulders, fingers pulling him closer, and he wasn’t about to refuse her anything. He positioned her knees on either side of his hips, putting her solely in charge. She tugged at his hair, angling his head back as her lips moved to his throat. Her tongue lashed out against his earlobe, and his hands slid under her shirt, fingertips teasing the skin along her spine and down her rib cage.
Fuck, she was perfect in every way.
The pulsing of her hips when she ground down onto him. The soft noises she probably didn’t even realize she was making. The nimbleness of her fingers as they unbuttoned his shirt. It was all absolutely perfect.
She had his button-down off in no time, and he bent to kiss and nuzzle her neck, pleasantly surprised when he found she kind of smelled like him from last night.
“I think I could kiss you forever,” he said into the spot where her neck and shoulder met. She let out a hum of agreement and pulled him back to her mouth, her kisses alternating between wild licks and slow rolls of her tongue over his lips.
Chris had waited so long for this, he had trouble taking his time with her and gave in to the need to have her under him. He gently pushed her back against the cushion, stretching her body out beneath him so he could skim one hand down her side, pressing his fingertips into her thigh as she bent her knee toward his hip.
“Oh god,” she moaned, her head tilting back so he could nibble on her throat. “I don’t want you to stop.”
“I won’t,” he said, moving to push the edge of her shirt up so he could kiss her stomach.
“But we have to,” she told him, halting his mouth halfway to the tiny bow in the middle of her bra.
“What?”
“I have to go back to the hospital.”
The mention of the hospital immediately cooled his ardor, and he shifted to run his hand over his face. “Yeah.” Undoubtedly, she had a lot of things to do today, and having sex on his couch was probably not one of them. “Okay.”
“I was supposed to meet Shelley—” she checked her phone “—twenty minutes ago.”
“It’s not like you to be late,” Chris said, tugging her to stand up with him. He didn’t miss the opportunity to plant a few kisses on her neck until he was eye to eye with her. She was slightly out of breath, her glasses crooked, and her ponytail hung half off her head. Gorgeous.
She walked to the kitchen, and he heard her get a glass of water as he slowly put himself back together, agonizing over each button. When she reappeared in the living room, she looked different…relaxed and unworried, as if he had completely taken away all of her anxiety. If he could put that look in her eyes after fooling around on his couch for a few minutes, he wondered what he could do if he had her for hours in bed.
He couldn’t wait to find out.
