“No,” I whispered honestly. “You?”
“Not even a little.”
We kissed again, slow at first, tasting, learning, but it deepened and grew hungrier. His hand cupped my jaw gently, like he was trying to be careful even as the electricity between us surged out of control. My fingers slid up the back of his neck, into his hair, and he made a soft, rough sound against my lips that made something inside me tilt dangerously.
“God,” he murmured, kissing the corner of my mouth, then my jaw, then the soft space just beneath my ear that made my breath catch. “You’re… incredible.”
My heart tripped. “I’m not.”
“No,” he whispered. “You need to hear this.”
He kissed me again, slower this time, each pass of his lips deliberate, almost reverent. His hand slid to my waist, holding me in a way that wasn’t just desire; it was grounding.
“You’re trouble,” he murmured into my skin. “I knew it the moment I saw you.”
I laughed softly, breathless. “You didn’t even like me at first.”
His smile pressed against my cheek. “I liked you way too much at first.”
Heat curled through me, warm and spreading, tinged with something deeper, something dangerously close to emotion.
I tugged him back to my mouth, and this time the kiss turned molten, all restraint slipping. He kissed like a man trying to hold back a tidal wave and failing beautifully.
His thumb brushed beneath the hem of my fleece, bare skin, and my breath caught so sharply I worried I’d wake the sleeping guests.
“Sienna,” he whispered, the sound broken.
“I know,” I breathed. “Me too.”
His hand hesitated, then spread gently over my hip beneath the sleeping bag, pulling me flush against him. Every nerve in my body lit up.
He kissed me with a kind of focus that felt like being chosen, like being seen. Each brush of his lips grew warmer, deeper, his breathing unsteady as his hand slipped along my waist, tracing my curves through layers of fleece and wool, as if learning me by shape alone.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he whispered.
“You said layers were smart,” I managed.
“They were.” He kissed my neck, slow, devastating. “Now they’re in my way.”
My fingers dug into his back. “This isn’t fair.”
“No,” he said, kissing my collarbone through my shirt. “It’s not.”
I shifted closer unintentionally. My body wanted his more than my mind could keep up with. My hands ran along his thighs.
He stilled.
So did I.
“Don’t do that unless you mean it.” He smiled with an intensity that made my body surge with desire.
I meant it.
I really meant it.
I guided his lips back to mine in answer.
He made another soft, guttural sound in his throat and kissed me like he couldn’t stop himself, like he had been trying to hold back for days and had finally broken.
