“What kind of issues?”
“We’re talking about you.”
“Thank God. I hate it when men are emotionally healthy and open to sharing their own struggles. That’s so much harder to resist.”
Suddenly, my back is against the wall, and Flint is staring directly into my eyes. How did I not notice before that his are brown? They’re a light brown. Flecked with gold. I thought they were hazel. Do they change in the light? I’ll have to watch and see.
“This isn’t happening,” he says, low and tight.
“I’m aware.”
“No matter how much I can’t get you out of my head.”
I haven’t had a man-induced orgasm in at least three years. At least. But I just felt a quake ofsomethingin my clit. “We shouldn’t see each other.”
“Stop coming to the school.”
“I’m making up for six years ofnotdoing the things I should’ve done.”
He growls.
Growls.
And there’s that tiny earthquake in my clit again, prompting some action in my vagina too.
“I wish you’d been a crotchety old man who yelled at everyone to get off his lawn.”
“I wish you’d been a selfish opportunist wanting to subdivide the ranch and put crappy houses on it.”
“We can’t do this.”
At least, that’s what my mouthsays.
What my mouthdoes, though, is a different story.
Because when Flint crashes his lips on mine, I am ready, willing, and 100 percent on board.
My eyes drift closed, and I hook a leg around the back of his thigh. He tilts his hips harder against my stomach, letting me feel every inch of his erection while he destroys me with a deep, hard, unrelenting kiss.
And I love it.
I love matching every stroke of his tongue.
I love the desperate grunts in the back of his throat.
I love the feel of his thick, rough beard against my skin.
I love the way his hair is long enough for me to grip it in my hands, and I love the way I feelwanted.
Needed.
Desired.
As a woman. As ahuman.
This is no simple kiss. It’s filling every wish I’ve had for someone towant mefor longer than I care to admit.
And I didn’t earn this kiss by sacrificing who I am. What I want. By putting someone else’s dreams ahead of mine.
