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“Again,” he said.
“Again.” Could her pulse be any faster? Maybe she was having a stroke? Maybe that’s why she kept on kissing him?
That’s not why, and you know it.
He tilted his head to the side a little. “Is this something you’re going to do now? Randomly kiss me?”
“Maybe.” Her heart pummeled hard. “Maybe not. I don’t know. I—”
He closed the space between them, cupped her face in his steady hands, and kissed her.
Slowly.
Kissed her until her knees began to tremble and her toes curled in the cool sand.
Kissed her like he wanted to thoroughly understand everything about her.
Or like he already did.
He seemed to know exactly what she wanted his lips and tongue to do, where she wanted them to be. He explored her mouth, her throat, back to her lips again. A shiver rippled through her, bursting delicious little blooms of desire deep in her core. Dio, it felt good.
She whimpered a soft sound of surrender. She’d been kissed many times—she’d been the biggest earner of the homecoming fair’s kissing booth back in her senior year, not to mention her various exes and flings—but she’d never, ever been kissed like this. Mick’s kiss sent a flood of pleasure and hunger through her. Mick’s kiss seemed to awaken a carnal ache in her. Mick Blackthorne, of all people.
And she didn’t want him to stop.
In fact…
She tugged his shirt free of his pants, slid her hands under the loose material, and feathered them over his abs.
God damn, they felt incredible under her fingers, all sculpted and hard and warm and smooth.
Liquid need pooled between her legs.
He groaned into the side of her neck as she skimmed her fingertips up over his tight nipples.
“Holy fuck, Zeta,” he ground out, his lips scoring a path up to her temple while his hands kneaded her butt. “What are you doing to me?”
He rolled his hips to hers, and fresh blooms of desire spread through her body at the impressive bulge pressing into her lower belly.
“Questa,” she whispered back, pinching one nipple lightly as she rolled her hips back. She wanted that impressive bulge in her hand, her mouth, her sex. Pulling away a little, she captured his stare and freed her hands from under his shirt. “This.”
She lowered his fly.
His jaw bunched.
Way off in the distance, a low grumble boomed across the dark sky. Or maybe it was the thudding of her heart? She wanted him on a purely carnal, sexual level.
Did he want her?
Still holding his gaze, she popped the button on his fly.
His jaw bunched again, his chest swelling as he sucked in a breath. “Zeta, are you serious about this?”
As an answer, she trailed her fingertips up the length of his engorged erection, now jutting free of his pants but still trapped by what felt like cotton briefs of some sort. His eyes fluttered closed, and his whole body shuddered with a low groan.
“I don’t understand how I feel about you, Mick,” she confessed, her throat tight, her voice almost a rasp. “But right now, at this moment, all I want from you is this.” She flattened her palm to his erection, inched her fingers into his open fly and gave his balls—as impressive as his erection—a gentle caress. “Please?”
His nostrils flared. He opened his eyes and looked down at her, wrapping warm, strong fingers slowly around her wrist. He held her hand motionless and lowered his head to hers, his breath a warm fan on her lips. “Zeta, if this is some kind of weird retaliation for what I did with Nick back when we first met, I—”
