“Zoey, stop.You don’t …”
But just like the night I met her, she ignores me as she rummages through her bag.And once again, she pulls out some kind of crochet creation.
“It’s a scarf.”She leans forward, laying the item around my neck.
As far as scarves go, it’s not the best.The ends barely fall past my shoulders, and one side still has a crochet hook stuck in it.
Not that I care.
“I love it.”
“Liar.”She smiles and goes to take it back, but I lean away from her, wanting to keep the gift.Zoey slaps my chest lightly, laughing as she does.“Stop it.I’m not done with it.I just started this morning when I realized I needed to apologize, but I didn’t think my crochet speed should dictate when I tell you I’m sorry.”
I sit up straight again, letting her remove the half scarf.
“You keep saying you’re sorry, but you don’t need to.How you reacted … that’s reasonable.I should be happy you didn’t try drowning me in holy water.”
Zoey tucks the craft back into her bag before looking at me.
“You’re right.I need to stop saying sorry.”Her fingers land on my lips when I go to speak.“And I need to start saying thank you.”
A gentle growl sneaks out before I can stop it, rumbling against her hand.Her mouth opens with a little gasp, but she swallows and pushes on.
“We were in danger that night, and you protected me.”Zoey bends at the waist, bringing her face close to mine and threatening to overwhelm me with her intoxicating scent.“Thank you, Warner.”
Fingers drop away, only to be replaced by her sweet lips.She brushes a gentle kiss against my mouth at first.A happy hum spills out of me, which seems to give her permission to lean forward and wrap her arms around my neck.To straddle my lap.
To drive me fucking wild.
29
ZOEY
Makingout with Warner was not part of the plan.
But I think it’s a fantastic addition.
I meant to just brush my lips against his.A quick thank-you.
But once I get a taste, I’m a ravenous shark, scenting blood.
Okay, not the sexiest metaphor.But seeing as how I want to consume Warner, I still think it’s apt.
“Zoey.”He groans my name against my mouth as I settle on his lap, my thighs spread and circling his hips so I can press closer.My dress rides up, leaving just the thin cotton of my underwear as a barrier between my center and his rough jeans.
My name on his lips is like hearing my favorite song on the radio.I want to hit replay, but I know I have no control over when I’ll hear it again.So, I enjoy it while I can.
My fingers tangle in his soft hair.My tongue traces the seam of his mouth.My hips rock, pressing into his groin.
He gets hard beneath my onslaught.
And a stab of guilt rips through me at the realization, so quick and painful that I tear my lips away from his.
Warner flirts and charms, and he’s given me a few kisses in the past, but that doesn’t mean I have free range to maul him.
“I’m sorry.Hell, I’m attacking you.”Bracing my hands on his shoulders, I try to rise from his lap, which turns out to be a much harder maneuver than getting there.Probably because I don’t want to go.
An unhappy growl pairs with clasping hands on my ass, holding me in place.When I stop trying to get up, Warner buries his nose in my neck, and I can feel him breathing against me, his hot breath raising goose bumps all over my skin.
