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I set the jacket on the pristine gray floor mat.
"Not bored at all," she says, and moves an inch closer. So close I can feel the heat of her skin. I swallow hard. The swell of her breasts is dangerously close to my body.
"I love listening to you talk, Damien. Something about your voice. It does things to me. Always did."
Her compliment renders me speechless, like nearly everything else she does. I'm not sure how to respond, so I take her chin between my thumb and forefinger and tilt her face. She rises on her tiptoes and leans into me.
That's when I succumb. Dammit, I can't help it. I'd come here to apologize and say hello after ten years, not seduce her. And yet, here I am, every cell in my body desperate and screaming to eat her with kisses.
I dip my head. Right before my lips touch hers, a warning invades my mind.
This is a mistake. I'm leaving for Syria in three months. And I might not return.
The moment our mouths meet, I know this kiss isabsolutely, definitely, one hundred percent, a huge fucking mistake.
Because I'm still in love with Kate Cooper, and I don't deserve her incredible kisses.
I don't deserve her at all.
kate
. . .
Damien Hastings tastes delicious.Like whiskey with a hint of orange blossom honey. Like high school fantasies and like a grown man who has learned how to kiss a woman properly.
He also smells faintly of soapy limes, and the smell-taste combination is doing some wild things in parts of my body that have been dormant for several months. Years.
I pull back from his lips and swallow. "Um, whoa."
Not the most alluring reaction I've ever had to a man's kiss, but my brain isn't firing on all cylinders right this second. Probably because of the intense, sudden heat that's bloomed, no, exploded, in my belly and below.
His eyes snap open. "Oh. Oh God. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you without permission. I couldn't help myself...I assumed..."
I wrap both of my arms around him and practically climb him like a tree. "You assumed correctly."
He lets out a low chuckle, and I stand on my tiptoes to steal another kiss. Somehow that ends with me in the back of the wagon and us stretched out, Damien's long legs hanging off the back.
"You are so, so beautiful," he murmurs, his hand brushing my hair back. He's half on top of me now, his big, hard body pressing into mine. "This is exactly what I wanted ten years ago."
"Us smooching in the back of a perfect wagon in a parking lot?" I giggle.
"Yep. This."
He's kissing me like he's hungry. Like I'm delicious. Like he's suddenly faced with an all-you-can-eat buffet of rare delicacies.
Okay, maybe that's me. I'm kissing him back like I'm starving.
I also can't get enough of his stubble. It's soft and smells like spicy limes, and I hesitantly press my lips to the furry spot under his bottom lip. The sensation on my skin drives me so wild that I finally give up on discretion and nuzzle my nose and mouth into his jaw. A purr escapes my lips.
"You like the beard?" He tugs my hair gently, enough to make my scalp tingle.
"Love the beard. Love."
He pulls my hair harder, and I rip my face out of his stubble. That's when he presses a featherlight kiss on the sensitive spot of my neck, the one about an inch under my ear. Then another. And another.
I whimper. And shudder. He clearly knows what he's doing to me because he keeps kissing and kissing, the stubble tickling and tickling. Pure pleasure.
Then he bites softly, and I gasp.
