A tiny moan escapes me. My eyes blink open, and I open my mouth to blame it on my exhaustion, but there's a rumble in Hugo's chest. His throat. He's groaning, too.
And then his fingers move in my hair. The tiniest contraction. A second moan from me.
Involuntary, I swear.
He does it again, almost a massage. A tiny sound in my throat, as if he holds a switch and flips it. My hands on his back begin to move. A faint touch over his smooth, muscled skin.
Higher, to his shoulders. His neck, my fingers curling, nails lightly scratching.
A deeper groan from Hugo, reaching between my legs.
These touches are soothing, and stoking the flames that flickered to life that first day we met. The flames we've been denying ever since.
Hugo's face dips, lips pressing against the middle of my forehead. He is hard and thick against my hip.
This is it. The precipice. We both know it. Neither of us expected the other person. He was doing his own thing in Summerhill. I was navigating life in Phoenix. But were either of us really living?
Is that what we're doing now? Waking up? Living? Were we waiting on each other, needing one another to awaken the other?
"Mallory," Hugo says, agony twisting my name.
"Hmm?"
"I'm unbelievably close to kissing you."
"I'm even closer to letting you."
He spins me around, lifts me like I weigh nothing, and sets me on the kitchen counter. Without a thought, I open my legs, allow him to step between. He gazes at me, dark brown on dark brown, the understated glow from the light revealing the need in our eyes.
Hugo reaches for me, hand landing on my collarbone, gliding up my neck. He fingers my jaw, positioning my face. Another tiny moan from me.
"Those fucking moans," he whispers. "They're killing me."
"So many more where those came from," I taunt.
He growls, something low and animal and so sexy it makes me swallow. My hands find his shoulders, and he reaches around my back with his free hand, hauling me flush against him. Now my center is pressed against his rows and rows of abs, and it's everything I can do to not get greedy. I'm dying to grind against him. I wore underwear because it felt indecent to sleep in someone's guest bed without them. Now I'd be lying if I said there isn't a little part of me that wished I hadn't.
Hugo's face hovers closer to mine, and I tip mine up, offering. He obliges, dipping lower, lips touching mine at long last.
Fire. That's what I feel. A zinging electricity, shooting out to my limbs. Our lips move, pressing and yielding, and I hold onto his shoulders while his tongue parts my lips. A groan from both of us.
We kiss and kiss, taking sips of air when necessary, but we don't let up. He holds me close, and there is such sweetness to it. I know this kiss must end, but I never want it to.
We slow, tongues receding, but I nip his lower lip gently, sucking it into my mouth to soothe. It elicits a frustrated growl from him. He likes that.
We part, gazing at each other once again. Coming full circle. I prop my hands behind myself, steadying me. Hugo's gaze drops to the edge of the counter, where he stands between my legs. More specifically, where my center presses to his stomach. His eyes move over the small space, a lazy perusal, followed by a deep breath.
"We should probably go back to bed," he chokes out.
I know what I'll be doing the second I hit those sheets, and it won't be sleeping.
"Yeah," I wheeze.
Hugo steps back, helps me off the counter. I grab my bottle of water, the only reason I came out here. Hugo slides the lights off, and then I feel his hand on the small of my back, and I shiver at the memory of his lips on mine. He guides me down the hall, and that motion sensor light illuminates.
We pause at the guest room door, and I look up at him. Muscled and tousled and so handsome it hurts. I want to keep making him feel good. I want him to do the same to me.
He grips the top of the doorframe. Looks down at me. His muscles pop, and I die a thousand hot and sex-starved deaths.
