“Then what is it?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug, then repeat, “I don’t know.”
The rain falls harder. Senior lets out a snore.
Briggs surprises me again. “I’m here for you, you know?”
“Oh.” I take another sip of my coffee, wrapping both hands around the mug. “Thank you.”
I can feel the weight of Briggs’ gaze for a long moment before he stands. He walks back into the house before appearing again with a throw blanket in hand. He says nothing as he takes my coffee, setting it on the table before he places a knee into the couch between my feet. He bends low to tuck the blanket around me, his big body hovering over mine.
His face is so close to mine. He is so close to me. Earth and leather with just a hint of cologne surround me, and something tightens in my belly. An ache so low and lovely. I’ve never felt anything like it before. Never experienced a want like this, deeper than flesh.
“Thank you,” I rasp.
His eyes lift to mine and God, but they pin me there. “You looked cold.”
He doesn’t move away as his eyes drift to my lips. I wet them with the tip of my tongue. His lids look heavy as his eyes tip back up to mine.
His eyes fall and lift again. He moves in. I don’t shift away.
With a crack of thunder that makes me gasp, Briggs invades. His lips are hot enough to sear. He tastes like man and bitter coffee as he commands my mouth, kissing me with raw hunger and unbridled need.
My thoughts fracture as fire surges inside my veins.
Kissing this man is like experiencing the wonders of the universe while simultaneously coming home for the first time.
His tongue sweeps across mine as he presses deeper into me. A shiver erupts in a thousand tiny goosebumps across my skin as his hand, big and rough, cups the side of my jaw gently. With a sweep of his thumb over my chin, he angles my face higher, deepening the kiss further until I feel as though I’m breathinghimin. In the background, the storm crests with roars of thunder and bright flashes of lightning.Rain pelts the roof of the covered porch to craft an otherworldly symphony that lulls me deeper into this moment.
Between the storm and Briggs’ kiss, it doesn’t take long for me to lose all sense of self preservation. When his hand falls from the side of my face to cup my hip instead—the feel of his warmth is amplified by the silk that covers my body.
A hitched moan I don’t mean to let slip free sounds.
Briggs responds by curling his fingers into my hip, sinking deeper into the kiss.
I don’t know how it happened, but I’m no longer sitting. I’ve scooted down on the couch, laying nearly flat on my back. Briggs is hovering above me, one knee planted between my legs. That big hand is still gripping my hip and somehow my hands find themselves in his hair. My fingers twist in the curls as he sucks my bottom lip into his mouth.
His lips, burning hot, drift over my jaw to the sensitive flesh behind my ear. I loose another shuddering breath as he rumbles roughly there, “I should stop.”
Oh God, he wants to stop.
“You want to stop?” The words fall from my lips in a breathless rasp.
“Fuck no.”
“Then don’t,” I beg.
The growl he releases is the embodiment of broken male will, and I think it’s my most favorite sound ever.
He asks into my throat, “You don’t want me to stop?”
I shake my head. It feels somewhat frantic, but I don’t have the headspace for shame right now.
“Say the words, Lilah. Tell me you don’t want me to stop.”
“Don’t stop.” I rush to give him what he wants. “I don’t want you to stop. Please.”
“Hell,” he rasps.
