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Her face goes slack, that fire in her eyes extinguished, and the befuddlement that fills her expression is so beguiling that I think—
Fuck it.
I bend down…
And kiss her.
Seventeen
Nova
One second,he’s stalking me like a tiger, tracking me through the jungle and readying to pounce when I least suspect it.
The next, he’s laughing and it’s fucking beautiful—a deep rough sound that seems to bounce around the room, that settles over me like one of those thick blankets he tucked over my sleeping body the night before.
I get the sense that he’s not a man who laughs very often.
But him giving that to me…
I amarrested, frozen in place because it’s the most astonishing and bewitching thing I’ve ever heard and seen.
His smile is wide and free. His skin crinkles at the corners of his eyes. The strong cords of his throat stand out in sharp relief. His laughter is equal parts velvet and sandpaper—gentle brushes over my skin that relax me but also rough sweeps that prickle my nerves, sending me to rigid attention.
I didn’t know laughter could be a gift.
But from Lake it is.
Especially as he turns to face me fully, hazel eyes sparking with humor. He’s so close now that I can see his pupils have dilated, can see the individual strands of hair in the stubble on his cheeks—
Then I can’t see anything.
Because his arm is banding around my middle, bringing my body flush to his.
All of the air in my lungs escapes me in a rush…and then he’s breathing for me, or maybe I don’tneedto breathe, maybe I don’t need to think, maybe I don’t need—
Anything but this man’s lips on mine, soft and yet firm as he parts mine, sliding his tongue inside my mouth in such a skillful move that I quickly forget my name, where I’m at, the shitty circumstances that have brought me to these mountains. I quickly forget everything aside from how his hands feel on my body, his lips on mine, the sleek darts of his tongue.
The man can kiss.
Confidently. Without mercy.
One movement brings me even closer. Another has my feet dangling in the air. A third has my ass hitting the counter, knocking Steve’s bowl to the floor.
It lands with a distant clatter and I hear Steve’s nails as he rushes toward it—and no doubt the mess we’ve just made—but even that noise doesn’t fully snap me out of my stupor. For one, Steve’s a great vacuum. For another, Lake has sunk his fingers into my hair, is tilting my head back, his lips releasing mine and moving along my jaw, down my throat. He nudges the neck of my sweatshirt to the side, nips at my collarbone, laves his tongue into the divot at the top of my chest.
I shiver and his lips are back on mine, kissing me into oblivion, kissing me without mercy, kissing me so that the only thing I can do isfeel.
His other hand goes to my hip, drawing me forward, settling my ass on the edge of the countertop. That hand slips from my waist and beneath my sweatshirt, beneath the T-shirt I have on under it, and the first brush of his warm, rough fingers on my skin makes me gasp, electricity surging through my nerves, moisture gathering between my legs, desire a fire burning out of control in my belly.
Then those fingers keep moving, sliding and shifting until his palm has gone flat on my side, until it starts to sweep its way up.
Yes.
This I like.
Thisis what I want.
Especially when there isn’t any hesitation in his kiss as his hand continues to move and his lips and tongue don’t stop and his fingertips reach the elastic band of my bralette…
