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I grab his arms and he stills. “I don’t want the first time you kiss me to be in front of everyone else. I just—I think maybe I’m still a bit tipsy. I feel—” He waits. “Hot and cold and a little dizzy.” Shyly, I admit, “And I’ve never kissed anyone,” when his brows begin to rise, I add, “like you.”
“Like me?”
“Just so—much.”
“So much of what?”
I squeak, “Man.”
His lips curl, like I gave him a compliment.
I’m not sure it was a compliment, however. Heisa lot. And, sure, I’ve been kissed, if quick pecks count.
Still, I sincerely doubt the way this man kisses is anything like a peck. I bet he kisses like the men in my romance books. I bet he kisses like he’s done it a few times and knows exactly what he’s doing.
Will he taste my innocence?
“It’s just a kiss, Kitten.”
Just a kiss.Not to me. But I harden myself, determined to keep that hidden.
A shuddering, “Okay,” falls from my lips. His eyes drop to my mouth, and something squeezes my core.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he rasps. “I want you to kiss me back.”
I nod once, and then he drops his mouth to mine.
His lips are warm and hard as they cover mine. Cash doesn’t press his lips to mine, closed mouthed and simple like I expect the kiss to begin. He doesn’t kiss me gently, either. It’s fire, burning hot right off the start.
His big hand comes to the side of my neck, fingers diving into my hair as his thumb caresses the line of my jaw. He’s everywhere, over top of me, consuming me, burning me from the outside in or the inside out, I can’t tell. His mouth moves over mine. His lips aresofter than I expect while still being impossibly firm. He gives me a little more of his weight at the same time I feel his teeth nip into my bottom lip. I gasp, and he takes advantage of my shock, invading my mouth with his tongue.
My core is an active volcano, my body trembling as I move my lips with his, trying to keep up and surely failing. He tastes like whiskey smells, and cigar smoke with just the faintest hint of cinnamon hearts. He dominates me, kissing me until I’m breathless, pulling away only to press hot, open-mouthed kisses over my jaw and down my neck. He sucks on my collarbone and nips at the skin below my ear before returning to my mouth with a low, devilish growl that sets me aflame. Hot heat wicks up from the core of me, burning away hesitation and singeing rationality. With the loss of inhibition and sense, I stroke my tongue against his for the first time. In response, he makes a noise in the back of his throat that is pure, aggressive male pleasure. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever heard in my life. I lose the last lingering shreds of my sanity as I push my hands into the mess of his rock-God hair and let myself kiss him harder.
“Fuck, you taste sweet.” He shifts his weight over me, kissing me through the words. I can feel his hand moving, tugging the blanket away from my body, but I can’t seem to find all the pieces of my fractured thoughts. I can’t slide the splintered bits back intoplace—can’t think of anything but how this man feels against me.
How he tastes.
I’m intoxicated.I’m drunk on him.
His big hand twists a fistful of my clothes—his clothes—and he commands against my lips, “Say yes.”
I don’t even have the capacity to think about what he wants me to say yes to, only that my body wants to comply. Every aching inch of my flesh is tuned into this man, and this man alone. The world outside this rooftop no longer exists. It’s just him and me.
“Yes.”
He releases the fabric and kisses me harder, his tongue stroking mine, adding kindling to the scorching flame that already rages inside my body. The feel of guitar calloused fingertips against the smooth skin of my low belly has butterflies swarming.
I tear my mouth away from his. “Cash.”
It’s supposed to be a protest, but even to my ears it sounds like a plea. I want this, even as I know I’m not ready for it. Not like this.Not when it isn’t real.
What am I doing?
He claims my mouth again, kissing me so deeply, I think he grazes soul. Shifting closer, he slides one knee between my legs as I gasp his hot breath into my singed lungs.
Oh God. Oh God, oh God,oh God.
I’m not sure what I’m praying for, only that I am praying.
