I can’t stop myself.
And I don’t want to.
24
Sloane
I knowexactly what Davis is thinking.
Money runs the world, sweetheart.
That’s why he’s staring at me like he’s never seen me before. Like he has no idea who I am. Like I’m a complete and total unworldly idiot.
That’s what I’m thinking when he turns so his body lines up with mine, when he tucks our clasped hands behind my back and slants his mouth over mine.
Oh.
Oh.
This is unexpected.
But also—oh my god.
His lips—and his beard—and his body—and the way he smells like pine trees and s’mores and tastes like delicious temptation?—
Okay, yes.
I’m good with this man kissing me.
I’m—ooohgod, he’s licking the seam of my lips, and I’m opening to him, andgod, I miss kissing.
I miss kissing a man who knows how to kiss me.
I miss kissing a man that I trust to kiss me.
And it doesn’t matter that he was kissing me like this last night and also Saturday night.
That was a long time ago.
Ages.
Eons, even.
Especially when I know this could be the last time he kisses me.
The last time I’m ever kissed.
He pulls me tighter against him and deepens the kiss, his tongue stroking mine, our breaths mingling, his other hand curling into my hair while I cling to him like he’s my lifeline.
We’re alone.
There’s no one here to put on a show for.
I don’t think he’s trying to shut me up to make me quit talking about the ethics of pirate treasure either.
Not with that bulge pressing into my belly.
Again.
