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My eyes close on their own but I can hear the hitch in her breath.
“I think I’d like that,” she whispers.
My lungs stutter.
I fucking can’t.
Keeping the pressure, her hand burns a line down the center of my chest.
Her palm reaches the middle of my stomach before I force my eyes back open.
I really fucking can’t.
My hand closes over hers, halting her progress. “We can’t, Baby Doll.”
“Even if I want to?”
I squeeze her fingers, “Even then.”
Her hand tries to pull away, but I keep it trapped under mine, not ready to lose her touch.
She chews on her bottom lip for a moment, wide, unsure eyes staring at me. “Is it because I’m not your type?”
Anger rumbles in my chest that she’d even think that, and I’m tempted to push her hand lower so she could see just how much of my type she is.
Keeping her hand where it is, I slide my other hand – palm up –between us until it’s cradling her neck. My thumb strokes the front of her neck, stopping over her pulse point. “You couldn’t be more my type if you fucking tried.” My thumb presses into her flesh and her lips part, “Don’t ever doubt yourself like that again.”
“But-”
I cut her off, “But nothing, Sweet Girl. If you were sober…” I let up on the pressure but keep my thumb where it is.
“If I were sober?”
My eyes trail down, over her lips, down over the rapidly beating pulse in her neck- down the expanse of bare skin, lower to the thin,thinmaterial straining against her pebbled nipples.
“It’d be different,” I finally get out.
If I start to tell her all the things I want to do to her soft, welcoming body there’s no way I won’t act them out.
“Can we kiss again?” I start to shake my head, but she keeps going. “We kissed before, so I don’t see why we couldn’t do it again now. I mean, if anything I’m more sober now than I was then.”
I drag my gaze back up to meet hers.
The angel on my shoulder shrugs, telling meshe has a point.
The hand I have under the side of her neck flexes and I pull her closer. “Just a kiss.”
We both surge forward, our lips meeting in an almost violent collision.
Maddie whimpers and I start to pull back, but her whiney little “no” pulls me back in.
She tastes like mint toothpaste and sweetness and heat. Her tongue greeting mine the moment our lips part.
Her mouth is so soft – a wicked combination of fragile and demanding.
She moves closer and I tilt my head.
Needing to know how it feels, I release my grip on her hand and twine my fingers into her loose hair. The silky locks sliding against my palm.
