I’m not going to survive a fucking kiss.
And there’s no other place I’d rather die.
Letting go of the couch arm, I circle her throat, cradling the strong yet elegant column. I lift my head and study her mouth, swollen from this marauding that we’ll call a kiss because we don’t have anything else to label it. With a groan, I dive back for another taste. She arches into my hand, and I bend my head lower, grazing my teeth across the delicate line of her jaw, down the side of her neck. Releasing my hold on her throat, I tongue her pulse, satisfaction at its rapid beat a fiery blaze in my veins.
I part my lips to tell her how beautiful she is, how goddamn hard I am for her. But I shut up, afraid saying anything will shatter thismoment. And selfish bastard that I am, I just want one more minute, one more second, with her. From personal experience, I know how fleeting time with her, like this, can be. In another instant, this will be smoke, another memory for me to fuck my fist to. So I have to drown in her while I can.
Shifting my hand away from the back of the couch to just above her head, I raise the other to her slightly rounded, soft stomach, trailing my fingers over the trembling muscles.
“Fuck, Jordan. Do it,” she groans. “Please.”
I almost shush her.Don’t break the moment. Don’t break the moment.
But I keep it inside. Because I’m too busy giving her what she wants. What we both want.
I cup her breast.
We both moan. She bows tight. I curse.
It’s been only months since we’ve had sex, but goddamn, if it doesn’t feel like years since I’ve touched her like this. Since my fingers have squeezed and molded this perfect tit, plucked and twisted her beaded nipple.
Since they’ve slid through the slick, tight heat of her pussy.
God, I need more. I need more ofher.
Jerking my head up, I take her mouth again, my fingers continuing to plump her flesh, reacquaint myself. Make new memories.
The jarring ring of my cell phone reverberates in the room like the discordant blast of a fire alarm.
Fuck.
Reality crashes over me, a frigid, unwanted flood. I freeze, and Miriam goes still underneath me. Closing my eyes, I press my forehead to hers, and our breaths break like cannon fire in the silence of the room. My body throbs, and I shift my hand from her to the couch arm so both hands grip it. And grip it tight. So I don’t put a stranglehold on my dick.
My phone peals again, and it’s a special ringtone, or I might be tempted to ignore it.
Still, I snarl a little as I shove myself off Miriam and snatch up the cell. Stalking away from her, I swipe my thumb across the screen.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, Jordy. I’m just checking on you.” Her sigh echoes in my ear. “You weren’t in a great place when you left here.”
“I’m good.” If frustrated, aching, and guilty as fuck are good. Then yeah, dandy. “No worries, yeah?”
“I’m your mother. Worrying is in my job description,” she drawls. “But I want you to know, sweetie, whatever you decide is fine with me. I’ll support you either way, okay?”
“Yeah, Mom,” I murmur. “Thank you for that.”
“You’re welcome. All right, I’ll let you go. Don’t make me have to chase you down to get you over here,” she adds.
I huff out a laugh at that subtle reminder. Subtle as a bat to the side of the head. “I won’t, Mom.”
After ending the call, I slip the phone into my front pocket and slowly turn back around to Miriam. She’s off the couch, standing behind it. Probably doesn’t want anything to do with the scene of the crime. A grim resolve sinks inside me, a boulder dropping to the bottom of a dark lake.
“I take it that was Grace making sure you’re okay,” she murmurs.
“Yeah.” I stare at her, tunneling my fingers through my hair. “Should I apologize?”
No point in fucking around with pretending that ... apocalypse of a kiss didn’t just happen.
