“I know,” I reassure him.
“We have all the time in the world for kissing and… everything else. I just wantthisright now,” he says, his finger dangling between us. “It’s enough—morethan enough, actually.”
“Rafael?”
“Yes?”
“This is the part in the romance book where the hero shuts up and kisses me.”
He leans closer, the space between us dissolving until his lipsbrush mine in the barest, most excruciating tease. The blanket bunches around his waist, his hand resting heavy and possessive over my knee. Then his fingers come up, curling around my wrist, and his lips part against mine. He takes the lead, achingly slow, like he’s savoring every second, every tiny movement, every piece of me.
It’s not tentative—we’ve waited too long for that—but it’s not an expert kiss, either, because we’ve never done it before. It’s certainly better than I could have ever pictured, and I spent a lot of time in this very room doing that.
Maybe it’s what a gentle kiss from a wild soul feels like.
When we finally break apart, his forehead rests against mine. “You undo me, Scarlett,” he says, so softly I almost miss it.
“Really?” I rub my thumb on his nape. “Sometimes it feels like you hold me together.”
His lips crash into mine again, and this time, his hand slides to my back, pulling me closer as if the space between us is unbearable.
This kiss is different.
Maybe it’s what a wild kiss from a gentle soul feels like.
I press into him, my hands fisting in his shirt, desperate to close the invisible gap, to feel more of him. His teeth graze my bottom lip, and I let out a soft gasp that he swallows with another fierce, all-consuming kiss.
“Someone has a thing for sad boys, huh?” he says, an inch away from my lips.
“Oh, yeah,” I tease back.
“Then I should mention,” he says seductively as he maneuvers himself on top of me, “that my prom date left with someone else.”
I chuckle, the laughter quickly dissipating as he bites my earlobe, then softly kisses the spot beneath.
“And the anniversary of Hairy Houdini’s death is coming up.”
“Hmm.” He presses soft kisses along the curve of my neck, each one leaving a trail of warmth. “That’s downright depressing.”
“Wait until I tell you about my nana’s last words,” he murmurs, smiling against the skin of my chest.
I laugh, holding on to his hair as he presses wet kisses right above the hem of my shirt. “Rafael,” I breathe, my voice catching as his lips trail lower. My fingers tighten in his hair, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away. “Wait.”
He pauses immediately, lifting his head to meet my gaze. His eyes are dark, pupils dilated, but there’s concern there, too. “Everything okay?”
I try to catch my breath. “Yeah, I just… my brother’s in the next room. We have to keep it PG-13.”
Rafael’s eyes sparkle with mischief as he leans in close, his breath hot on my ear. “I think I can work with that.”
My hands slide down his back, touching the muscles shifting beneath his shirt as he moves. He keeps his weight on his forearms, hovering above me, but I can feel the heat radiating from his body.
“I’m so glad you’re not a serial killer,” I breathe. Though, to be honest, knowing how having his body inches away from mine feels, I’m not sure that would have stopped me anyway.
“Right back at you.”
His hand cups my face, thumb stroking my cheek as he kisses along my jaw. I tilt my head, giving him better access to my neck. The scruff along his jaw scrapes softly against my skin, sending little sparks of sensation down my neck. When his teeth graze a sensitive spot, I gasp, my fingers digging into his shoulders.
“Shh.” He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through his chestwhere it brushes mine. “How about PG-14?” he asks, his voice low and husky.
